"Well, now that almost all the participants are here..." the Guide sighed theatrically, as if closing the last page of a book. "Allow me to take my leave."
"Wait," Hov's voice sounded less like a question and more like a knife. "What did you just say? 'Almost all'? What other participants? Aren't... I the only one here?"
"Uh-hah-ghah-hah-gh..." he laughed, as if laughter was his native language and everything else just a dialect.
"Stop it, you bastard!" Hov snapped, his fist clenching on its own, fingers finding the Guide's collar as if they'd been searching for it since the boat. "I put up with you for 12 damn hours! On that goddamn boat! And if you let out that idiot laugh one more time, I'll drown you in this imaginary ocean."
The Guide smiled. Or smirked. Or bared his teeth, hard to tell.
"You still haven't figured it out, pathetic mortal, what game you've been dragged into, have you?" his voice suddenly turned icy. "I never, never, hear me, said you were the only guest. Before you, I managed to bring three more. Three, Hov."
"Answer me. What the hell is going on here? What damn game?"
"Yes-yes, just..." he twitched, squinting slightly as if from neck pain. "Be so kind, let go. Truth be told, I'm amazed by your... how to put it... intellectual transparency. I offered you questions several times. And what did I get? Your heroic silence."
"Only now, unfortunately for you, I can't explain anything anymore. No time. Though you'll find the answers yourself. If you live long enough."
"So you're leaving? I thought you were part of this whole circus troupe."
"Me?" he feigned surprise, as if Hov had suggested playing chess naked. "No-no, I'm just the guide. Nothing more. My duty, deliver, like a courier. Only instead of packages, people. And instead of a schedule, chaos."
"Nice to know you at least honestly don't hide how useless you are."
"Ah, Hov," the Guide closed his eyes, clasped his hands as if praying. "I'm touched. Your contempt is like a slap from fate. By the way, will you miss my voice?"
"I'll be glad not to hear it anymore."
"Agh... hurts to hear that after 12 hours together... we're almost like a couple in honeymoon hell..."
But Hov didn't respond. He just turned and, without looking back, headed toward the forest thick as unspoken words.
"Farewell, demon of darkness who came to this island seeking truth..." the Guide's parting words followed, with almost genuine sincerity in his voice.
A shiver ran through Hov's body. The wind picked up. Leaves danced like madmen, without music.
"The wind's getting stronger. Looks like this night... won't be particularly peaceful. Screw it," he quickened his pace.
The Guide said the mansion is through the forest. Straight. No turns. Turn, and die. Clear.
"Strange..." he stopped, clenched his palms. "Not a drop of power. Empty. No magic, no response. So that's how the system works here. Rules."
Whatever. The main thing, answers.
He walked on, despite the wind.
Exactly a year ago, my wife. The last weeks of pregnancy, everything was fine. Doctors assured it would be normal. It would be normal... They lied. It wasn't normal, labor lasted eight hours. She didn't survive. I wasn't with her, didn't hold her hand. Didn't say "thank you."
Tears rolled on their own, as if they knew the way, he wiped them. Calmed down. And walked further.
The game was about to begin.
The mansion turned out bigger than he imagined. Massive, like a memory that won't let go.
Probably important people lived here. Or... no. It's an illusion. A ghost. Who in their right mind would live on a nonexistent island?
"The wind's getting stronger... need to get inside before the rain," he said to himself, as if someone was listening.
Inside, in the guest hall, the other three were already sitting. Silence. So thick you could sit on it.
"I-I can't believe it..." one finally exhaled. "W-what the hell..."
"Am I imagining, or did that psycho slip something in my water before arrival?"
"Calm down," the second spoke. "No one gave you anything. Everything you see is real. No matter how much you want not to believe it."
Hov froze.
"Y-Yahweh... it's you? But... you died! You died back then! How is this even possible?! And... the Creator?! What is he doing here?! We destroyed him! And... this girl. I've never seen her. What the hell?"
"It's not an illusion," the Creator said calmly. "The girl is a participant too. Just new."
"Yes... we died," Yahweh confirmed in the voice of someone whose life was taken but not their memory. "And now... alive. Here. Don't ask how."
"Drink. Rest. There's even champagne, they say the cook tried hard," he added, as if it was a dinner party, not a cursed resurrection.
"Cook?.. So there are other people?"
"Not exactly. Servants. Three. They're not players. Just... service links in this game."
Hov sank into an armchair. His body tired even before his mind.
"You must be tired," Yahweh said. "We were in shock too. But rest helps."
"How can you talk calmly?! You were dead! Now you're... not dead! And we're on a ghost island with no time!"
"Because..." Enua began calmly, as if explaining how to fry potatoes. "We've already been briefed. The game won't start until the last participant arrives."
Silence. Deep as the emptiness outside the box.
"Alright," Hov muttered. "I'll look around."
At that moment, two entered the hall. Servants. A young girl with brown hair and... a brother?
"Welcome. You're... the fourth participant, right?" she asked politely.
"Y-yes. Hov."
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Morgana. This is my... uh... brother."
"Don't call me brother in front of guests!" the guy hissed, clearly panicking.
"I'm Cheryl. Servant of this mansion," he exhaled with practiced submission.
"No titles needed. Just Hov."
"Sorry. We're not allowed. We're tools," Morgana said. Without irony. Seriously.
"Follow us. We'll show you everything necessary."
And the tour began.
"This... mansion? Or... castle?"
"Built by the island's owner for his wife. Out of love. To madness."
"Wait... if the island doesn't exist, and the box is temporary, there shouldn't be a mansion."
"True. It exists... and doesn't. Like a cat in a box, only more tragic. After the game, everything vanishes."
"But then... inside the box it's empty too?"
"Almost. But not for you. For you, it's reality. For others, nothing."
"Okay... then the participants. I saw the dead. How?"
"It's part of the game," Morgana said. "The island's mistress resurrects the dead. All participants."
"Mistress? Where does she get such power?"
"The owner's wife. He built this castle for her. Was obsessed. Madly."
"And sealed her? His own wife?"
"Exactly," Cheryl whispered. "Out of love."
He continued in the voice of someone paid not with money, but fear:
"They lived happily. Until she wanted to leave the island. He got scared, forbade it. She begged, he lost his mind. Found grimoires, learned magic, but then... sealed her by force. Forever. She died... in those chains."
Silence.
Heavy.
Alive.
"S-sorry... he shouldn't have..." Morgana bowed.
"No... it's okay... just..." Hov closed his eyes. "Just too much for one evening."
"She resurrects too," Morgana reminded. "Every time. Before the game."
After that, they showed the rooms. Bedrooms, shower, toilet, kitchen. Everything like a normal place. But nothing was normal.
"There's a phone in your room. Call if needed. From 5 to 21 we're available. After that, we rest."
"Meals three times a day. Or more if needed. The cook works without sleep," Cheryl added, and both vanished.
The mansion seems clear. But... the story... strange. And how do they know everything? The Guide clearly isn't an ancient guardian... Alright. Not important now. Main thing, wait for the last participant.
Four people.
Waiting.
The game was about to begin!