There's definitely something wrong with this murder mystery game

The moon was bright, the stars scarce.

Osmanthus Village was steeped in silence.

Every household's doors and windows were tightly shut; the night sky was scattered with white blossoms blowing in the wind. The village pathways were deserted; no birds sang, no animals called, silence reigned. What had been a bustling village by day now seemed akin to a land of death.

The village was surrounded by mountains on all sides and faced south.

The North Mountain rose high, continuing into a mountain range, while the South Mountain was lower with a river ditch three zhang wide at its base.

All around was quiet.

Suddenly, a black cat walked into the village from the direction of the river ditch—it seemed to have just been crouching by the river drinking water or perhaps had come from within it.

The cat's black fur almost blended into the night; only the moonlight outlined its silhouette.

The cat looked around curiously, as if everything intrigued it.

White florets danced in the air, settling on the cat only to pass through its body, leaving one to wonder if the blossoms were illusions or if the cat was not real.

But in the vast village, only this cat strolled slowly.

It made its way toward a house at the foot of West Mountain.

The houses on this side differed from those on the east side, both in materials and size; they seemed more spacious and were built with green tiles and bricks.

After surveying several houses, the cat stopped outside the door of one.

Its black eyes fixed on the door, but it sat quietly on the ground without making a sound, only occasionally flicking its tail.

...

And across from that house,

in a relatively ordinary-looking home, a girl in homespun clothes with dust on her face huddled in a corner of the heated brick bed.

Her eyes widened in shock, her hands clamped desperately over her mouth as if afraid that even the slightest breath would alert the thing across the way.

Piercing screams came from the other house.

A man wailed and howled in despair, his frantic shouts and the rawness of his hoarse voice suggested the unimaginable torture he was undergoing.

Bang, bang, bang...

It sounded as if something were being struck; each blow was followed by a vicious scream from the man.

The girl dared not to speak or move.

She felt a pain so visceral that her body shook uncontrollably, her mind overwhelmed with the man's screams, almost as if she were the one being punished.

Pain!

Such pain!

The girl abruptly dropped her hands from her mouth and rubbed her arms.

In the darkness, feeling her intact skin and limbs, her illusion of pain slowly subsided.

Time passed without measure.

The desperate screams from the man across had turned to whimpers, weak and begging for help.

Unlike in the daytime, no matter how harrowing his cries, there was no stir outside; not a single villager opened their door to check.

As the commotion from the opposite house gradually subsided,

the girl realized she might be a bit oxygen deprived, yet she still dared not gasp for air and could only take careful, intermittent breaths.

Suddenly, the girl's gaze sharpened.

She had made sure to close the doors and windows.

But at some point,

the main door of the house had opened.

For a moment, the girl was bewildered; but then in a blink, she saw a strikingly bright red at the doorway.

This discovery almost made her scream.

But she quickly covered her mouth with her hand again.

When she blinked next, the glaring red at the doorway had vanished, and upon closer inspection, she found that the door was still shut with the bolt securely latched from the inside.

It was as if that moment had been a figment of her imagination.

But the girl dared not blink again.

She stared fixedly at the doorway, not allowing her eyes to blink even once, even as they began to burn and tremble; she was afraid that the very moment she closed her eyes, the red figure she had just seen would be at her bedside.

However, the truth was—

Even if she did not blink, the outcome would remain unchanged.

Under the girl's tremulous gaze, a ghostly red figure slowly materialized in front of the room's door, standing quietly, its outline somewhat ethereal and somber.

But it was just visible enough to conjecture who it might be.

It seemed to be a woman, dressed in a gold-threaded Embroidery red jacket skirt that trailed the ground, embroidered with intricate flowers and adorned with regal opulence.

Her entire body was covered by the dress.

The wide sleeves hid her hands.

And even her head was veiled with a red silk cloth.

The center of the red silk was embroidered with the character "Double Happiness," the edges with patterns, and gold Tassels hung from the four corners, looking particularly attractive.

This was like a bride awaiting marriage.

A bride apparently too exquisite for words.

But in this context, during the dead of the night, it was especially eerie; the bride in her wedding dress was set against the profound darkness of the night, her red garb as if dipped in blood.

In fact, the house with the tightly closed doors and windows hid everything as securely as the bride was covered, not allowing even the moonlight to penetrate the profound darkness.

Yet, that vivid red penetrated the dark and struck directly into the girl's eyes.

She stared at the figure in terror, wanting to resist, but her senses told her she could not defeat this thing.

She knew she couldn't overcome it from the moment it entered the room!