As everyone immerses themselves in the hunt for the bus tickets, something stirs elsewhere. Inside the bus, still parked near the Supreme Court, a presence lurks. The motionless dolls remain seated, frozen in eerie silence except one. Near the entrance, a single doll appears. Its head tilts unnaturally, neck twisting left and right, its joints creaking. Step by step, it walks down the aisle, its fingers tapping a slow, rhythmic beat against the bus seats. Its painted lips curl into a haunting smile. And then, it moves.
Meanwhile, inside the Supreme Court's ceremonial hall, Pearl and Tate cautiously step inside. The grand space radiates light, its high ceilings adorned with crystal chandeliers, the polished wooden floor gleaming beneath them. Rows of ornately carved chairs line the space, arranged with meticulous symmetry. At the far end, two authoritative seats rest atop a platform. Behind them, a statue of President Hồ Chí Minh stands solemnly, the national flag and party flag symmetrically flanking his figure. Both carefully fold their maps, tucking them away before starting their search. They divide the room, scanning every chair, corner, and crevice for the ticket. Tate remains tense, his awareness heightened, every muscle primed for danger. He treats each object he touches with caution, his instincts screaming at him to stay alert. In contrast, Pearl seems completely at ease, moving without hesitation, treating the mission like an ordinary scavenger hunt. Her lack of worry baffles him, prompting a teasing remark:
"You know, you say "just a little" every time you talk about your emotions. But your reactions are always exaggerated."
Pearl, completely engrossed in her search, responds absentmindedly:
"Really? I guess it's because I feel a little bit of everything all at once. You can't really measure emotions, right?"
"True."
As she reaches beneath one of the chairs, her fingers brush against a small slip of paper. Her eyes widen, excitement surging through her. She calls out in hushed eagerness:
"Tate, I think I found something!"
Immediately, he rushes over, his posture alert.
"Can you get it? Need help?"
Pearl struggles for a moment, her face scrunching in determination, using all her strength to pry it free. Finally, she pulls it loose. A black ticket rests in her palm, its glossy surface catching the light. Bold red lettering spells out the words: "Bus Ticket". Stunned, she leaps to her feet, holding the ticket out triumphantly.
"I - I got it!"
Tate stares at it for a moment, taking in the sight of the first confirmed ticket. Only five minutes have passed since the game began, yet Pearl has already secured hers. Her sheer luck astounds him. He watches her radiant expression, then smirks, playfully pushing the moment further.
"Nice! How do you feel? Are you "just a little" excited?"*
Her beaming smile doesn't falter.
"Yes, just a little."
"Just a little? I can see your big smile on your face."*
"Well, because you still don't have your ticket. I can't just leave you behind, can I?"
Tate is about to tease her again, however , he notices her cheeks flushed a faint pink, her fingers clutching the ticket like a child cherishing candy. Her response catches him off guard. Instead of teasing further, his voice softens.
"You should return to the bus. It'll be safer for you."
"No! I'm not leaving. I'll only go back once you find your ticket."
Pearl's cheeks flush, her hands tightening into fists, her stance unwavering. Tate drops his gaze slightly, lifting an intrigued eyebrow, letting out a quiet chuckle. Deep down, her stubbornness amuses him, but he still feels the need to clarify.
"You're really sure? I have a feeling this place isn't safe."
*"Even if there's a little danger, you're my friend. Helping each other is natural. Come on! Hurry up and find your ticket, or we'll run out of time."
She pats his shoulder before resuming her search. Tate follows suit, scanning the remaining rows of chairs. Occasionally, he glances at Pearl's concentrated expression, noting the difference in her demeanor. She is quietly determined, her gaze gentler than before. Meanwhile, in the auditorium, Lyly and Karen wander between over five hundred seats, their hunt stretching past fifteen minutes with no results. Despite the skylight casting natural illumination over half of the hall, the ticket remains elusive. Lyly groans in frustration, trudging toward the unlit section, collapsing onto a chair with a long sigh.
"I'm exhausted! Where the hell is that stupid ticket?"
Karen lifts her head, offering an encouraging smile.
"Let's search a little more."
While catching her breath, Lyly pulls out her compact mirror. She tilts her head left and right, inspecting her face.
Satisfied, she tucks it back into her pocket, casting a sideways glance toward Karen, still diligently searching. Leaning back against the armrest, she suddenly speaks up.
"Don't you think this trip is weird? It was advertised as an adventure tour, but I feel like we've walked into a trap."*
Karen pauses, her fingers grazing one of the chairs as she registers the thought. She sinks into a seat bathed in the sunlight, glancing toward Lyly, sitting in the darkness at a distance.
"Now that you mention it. I did find it odd that we're only seven people. Shouldn't this trip have hundreds of participants? Also, we're not even alive on the surface anymore. Yet, for some reason, this world has 5G for you to scroll through social media. The only problem is that we can't upload photos or make calls."
Lyly lets out an exasperated sigh.
"I thought about that too. But think about the ruins we saw from the bus - how is anyone still living here?"
"What if someone is?"
"Huh?"
"What if - beneath all the wreckage - people are still alive?"
Lyly scoffs, waving her hand dismissively.
"Karen, you need to stop watching too many detective movies. How could anyone survive here? If they were alive, they'd be dead within minutes due to the virus."
Karen hesitates, her mind entangled in the theory. In reality, Lyly is right. The virus outside still persists. Lina had perished instantly the moment she was ejected, proving survival was impossible. Eventually, she raises her hands in defeat, shrugging.
"I was just guessing. But do you notice we're sitting exactly the same way as when we first met?"
Lyly smiles, her gaze lingering on Karen as she reminisces about the first day they met in the lecture hall. One loved basking under sunlight by the window. The other hated the feeling of sunlight piercing through. Even now, it's the same.
Karen sits in the bright spot, where light pours down from the skylight overhead. Lyly remains comfortably settled in the shadows.
She nods, then lifts her gaze, scanning a row six seats away - Two sheets of black paper cling to the backs of chairs. One is in the light. The other, in the dark.
Her eyes widen in disbelief. She shoots upright, rubbing her eyes vigorously, trying to confirm what she's seeing.
Her abrupt movement startles Karen, who clutches her chest. "What - what's wrong?"
Lyly points ahead, her body going rigid. Her breath catches.
"There ! Is that a bus ticket?"
Before Karen can react, Lyly bolts forward - Her gaze locked onto the two pieces of paper, As if blinking would make them disappear.
She skids to a halt before them, Reaches out, peels one free.
Bold red lettering stares back: "Bus Ticket."
Excited, she waves toward Karen. Her voice brims with triumph.
"I found them! Two tickets!"
Karen rushes over, her smile widening. She gives a thumbs-up.
"You're amazing, Lyly!"
"Of course!" Lyly flicks her hair back, slightly smug. Most people find one, but she? She finds two.
"You take one. I'll keep the other. We're getting on that bus together."
Just as they celebrate, a deep red glow floods the room. Blaring alarms follow. The piercing sound freezes them in place. They stare at the ceiling. Then scan the room. Fear crawls up their spines.
Karen grabs Lyly's arm. Her voice trembles. "What's happening?! Did we trigger something?"
"I don't know."
Elsewhere, inside the courtroom on the fourth floor, red lights pulse overhead. Alarms echo through the walls. Tate plucks a ticket from the judge's bench and slips it into his pocket. Meanwhile, Pearl stands frozen. Eyes darting. Body rigid. Alarms scream around her. She clutches Tate's sleeve. "Tate, what's happening?"
He scans the blinking lights. Dread settles in.
"Something's wrong." But he simply shakes his head. "We need to get back to the bus now."
Across the compound, Tom barrels toward the entrance. Clothes disheveled. Sweat pouring. One hand grips his bus ticket. Just moments ago in the Justice Garden, He'd been scouring the four pillars. Then he saw it: A ticket behind the "Heart" pillar. He snatched it immediately, triumphant.
"The bus is right ahead. If I board first, the Platinum Pass is mine. I'll have the power to kick those pests off one by one." But the moment he reaches the main hall, his victory shatters. His smile fades. His body goes stiff. In the reflection of his eyes: A black-cloaked figure descends from the bus. A massive hammer in his grip. A half-masked face. A twisted smirk. Teeth stained red. A tongue runs lazily over peeling lips. Tom's skin turns gray. One hand flies to his chest. The other fumbles for his heart medication. He swallows hard, but his mind stays fogged. Still, the figure does not move. Tom's eyes dart left then right. He hesitates: Left or Right? Before he decides, the figure steps forward. Tom starts to panic. He bolts left. He glances back. The killer's eyes don't blink. Excitement pulses in the figure's veins. Hammer tight in hand. But still, that mystery person doesn't pursue it. He pauses at the center of the hall. Savoring the moment.
9:30 AM. The clock chimes. Lights dim. Alarms stop. A voice echoes:
"RED ALERT. The Hammer Killer has entered the court. Exit doors are locked. Proceed to the sixth-floor courtroom. Avoid direct encounters."
ns216.73.217.39da2
and then Add to home screen.