The knocking persisted, more insistent this time. As tension coiled within him, he waited, heart pounding. Finally, with a steadying breath, he inquired loudly enough for the unseen visitor to hear, "Who's there?"
"Oh! It's me!" A man's voice rang out loudly from the other side of the door.
'Me?' Amphi thought, smacking his forehead in frustration. Of course, Ambrose thought that an answer as vague as 'me' was sufficient when asked for his identity, even when their life was on the line.
With a reluctant click, he pulled the door open to find Ambrose standing before him, a bright smile on his face, and his coat still draped over his shoulders. He greeted Ambrose with an expression that bordered on annoyance.
"Oh, look who it is—the pervert," he quipped, not bothering to mask his irritation.
"Sorry?" Ambrose blurted, his eyes widening in surprise, akin to a deer caught in headlights. "I'm not a pervert!"
Amphi let out a deep sigh, leaning against the door frame, his eyes remaining closed as he studied the complicated expression on Ambrose's face. "That's exactly what a pervert would say."
"Let me give you some advice: when someone asks who's there, a simple 'It's Ambrose' is much better than just 'It's me.' Unless, of course, you're hoping for a punch in the face."
"Now, if you'll excuse me…" he began, attempting to shut the door, but Ambrose quickly wedged his foot in the doorway, stopping him from closing it completely.
"I can't tell if you're joking or being serious," He said, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "But if you are serious, I'm truly sorry. I'm not trying to be a pervert. I'm really not interested in you in that way. Please, could you tell me what I can do to make you feel comfortable?" His gaze was filled with overbearing determination.
Amphi's brows knitted together, a hint of guilt bubbling up inside him as he observed Ambrose's overly righteous and troubled expression. Still, he clung to his gruff demeanor; he disliked clingy people.
"You really are stupid," he sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Clearly, I'm just joking."
"Oh, thank goodness.." He smiled, relief flooding his features.
Yet Amphi felt only more distressed by his enthusiasm. Why was he so intent on sticking around? It was… exasperating.
"Still, it's bothersome. Why are you still following me?" He aimed to sound as conceited as possible, yet his rudeness barely seemed to faze Ambrose by now. "Go back to your room."
"Well, about that.. we're neighbors now…" Ambrose's voice trailed off, and he sheepishly showcased a key with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
Amphi paused, confusion painting his face. "I distinctly remember your room number being 205, not 410."
"Yes, but—"
Previously at La Isle Hotels room front desk…
As Ambrose languidly fiddled with the key, a man approached him from behind, tapping him gently on the shoulder to capture his attention.
"Can we switch rooms?" he asked hurriedly. But slowed when he noticed Ambrose's confusion. With a reassuring smile he continued: "My room is 410, which is right next to that friend of yours. Your room is 205, right beside Miss Athena.
"Miss Athena?" Ambrose queried, his eyebrow arched in curiosity. His logic warned him to be cautious, but his nerves felt relaxed at the man's words despite the abruptness.
"Ah, she's…" He pointed at a tall, confident woman engaging in a discussion with a group of people nearby. "The leader of group 2."
"You've decided to call it group 2?" Ambrose asked, eyeing the second group that had formed aside from the guy that supposedly solved the first puzzle.
The man raised a brow at Ambrose, but remembering that Ambrose was wandering alone with his friend, he relaxed his expression and explained slowly, "Well, I guess?"
"When Miss Athena took responsibility to guide us, a screen appeared before us with the words, 'Group 2 formed. The leader is confirmed to be [ Athena Cooper ]' Or something along those lines. We were all also given numbers depending on when we confirmed to be a part of her group."
"Oh~" Ambrose hummed, his intrigue piquing.
Still, the thought of taking the key from him filled him with dread. 'Would moving next door be a bother to him?' he wondered, guilt washing over him as he stared at the key in his palm. Even though it seemed like a recipe for chaos, an instinct deep within him urged him to take the key and remain close to Amphi.
Ambrose had always trusted his gut when it came to decisions, it had helped him in many life and death situations. Drawing in a sharp breath, he traded his key for the man's with renewed determination.
"Thank you so much for this!" He said, his face lighting up with gratitude.
"No, I should be thanking you. I hope you can return home soon, child," he responded in a warm, fatherly tone before making his way toward Athena and showing her the key. To Ambrose's relief, Athena was not at all perturbed and instead smiled warmly at him.
Feeling reassured by Jane's reaction, Ambrose flashed a relieved smile before rushing off in the direction Amphi had gone.
It didn't take long for him to realize that unlike Amphi, he had no idea where to go. "I should have asked for a map, too…"
****
Amphi rubbed his forehead in exasperation. "Well, goodnight then!" he stated curtly.
"Wait!" Ambrose called out, his voice urgent.
"What now?" he shot back, halting his hand just inches from the door to shut it.
"The butler said dinner would be served in thirty minutes. You weren't there, so I thought I'd let you know," Ambrose explained, rubbing his cheek nervously.
"Well, thanks for the heads up," he replied with a nonchalant yawn, before finally closing the door on Ambrose.
"Was this a bad idea?" He pondered quietly to herself as he walked toward his own room. Yet his gut insisted that this was the right choice. He unlocked his door with a loud click and stepped inside a luxurious one-person suite, his eyes widening with wonder.
"Wow, I've never been in a place like this before!" He exclaimed, taking in the opulent furnishings and elegant decor. But as memories of the earlier encounter flooded back in, his heart darkened, and what once felt like a lavish retreat began to take on the bleak appearance of a poisoned cake.
Turning back toward the door, he hesitated. Should I lock it?
"I don't want to be alone," He confessed to himself, before ultimately deciding to secure the door, recalling that Amphi had done the same. Moreover, the thought of a masked killer opening his door and killing him sounded far too frightening.
"What if the masked killer was in my room from the start.." He muttered, shivering in fear.
"No, no!" He smacked his cheeks, "Don't overthink, don't overthink," He repeated to himself, fearing that he may scare himself from even pissing.
After that ordeal, similar to Amphi, he began to explore his room, and on the plush bed lay a suitcase emblazoned with the number "178" in bold red letters.
"Strange, where have I heard that before?" He murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to jog his memory. "Ah, right! Amphi mentioned a number on my cheek."
He then shifted his focus toward the bathroom, which was easy to locate since there was only one other door in the lavish suite.
As expected, the bathroom was equally extravagant and stylishly decorated. A grand bathtub rested in one corner, adorned with floating petals and surrounded by waxed candles that lent a calming ambiance to the space. Another corner was thoughtfully reserved for a spacious shower, just waiting to be enjoyed.
"Ugh, darn beautiful trap," Ambrose cursed under his breath, his fingers clenched into fists at his sides as he struggled to tame the mix of jealousy and exhilaration surging through him. Living in such a luxurious hotel had its own allure, but danger lurked beneath the surface, waiting to turn the bath tub into his tomb.
"They're trying to kill you, Ambrose. Stay focused." With each deep breath, he fought to steady the tumult inside him, willing himself to keep his composure.
After the storm of emotions subsided, Ambrose turned his gaze to the ornate mirror hanging on the wall. The fiery cascade of his crimson hair partially obscuring the left side of his face, the vibrant strands framing his features like an intricate curtain.
With a quick flick of his wrist, he slid the hair on his face to the side. His face reflected back at him more clearly now, allowing him to catch sight of the number '178' tattooed just beneath his left eye—a curious mark that sparked both confusion and intrigue.
"How did he even notice that?" Ambrose mused, even he had trouble making it out under his thick bangs. However, he dismissed his concerns almost immediately. Amphi had shown himself to be weird but perspective.
"Well, I guess that means the luggage is addressed to me," He said softly, turning back to the large suitcase resting by the foot of the bed.
With a swift maneuver, he unlocked it, anticipation bubbling within him. Just like with Amphi, the contents of the suitcase felt eerily well-suited to his style. He unearthed a collection of clothes that were decidedly more aligned with his personality than the formal gown he had initially donned—an odd yet welcome discovery.
As he rummaged further, his enthusiasm waned; the bag was devoid of any weaponry or clues—only commonplace items like undergarments, shirts, a brush, and hair ties.
"Oh, look! New clothes!" He exclaimed sarcastically to the empty room.
Trying to make the most out of the situation, he laid out a sleek black furry jacket, black cargo pants, and a red shirt onto the bed. The fleeting thought of comfort danced in his mind as he quickly changed into an outfit that promised not only comfort but also mobility—essentials for whatever lay ahead.
Thirty minutes passed in a flash, as he gazed at the clock hung on the wall, his heart raced for what would welcome him next.
With a few precious minutes remaining, he grabbed something he had stumbled on during his search: a box filled with assorted medical supplies—bandages, antiseptics, and other necessities piled haphazardly together. Cradling the box against his chest, he smiled at the prospect of demonstrating his usefulness to Amphi.
"If I show him how resourceful I can be, he'll definitely allow me to stick around," he thought optimistically.
Yet, even amidst his resolve, he couldn't shake the recollection of Amphi's teasing remark, calling him a pervert. The thought made his cheeks warm with embarrassment. "Maybe I should just mention it casually…" He resolved, opting not to come off as overly eager or desperate.
As his thoughts swirled, the silence of the room transformed into a thundering presence, expanding against the walls and amplifying his sense of isolation. Staring blankly at the empty expanse of the wall opposite his, a wave of loneliness washed over him, prompting an involuntary sigh.
"I want to go home to dad.." He murmured, toying with his hair—the homesickness squirming in his chest. "If only someone were here with me, then I could distract myself."
Just as he felt himself sinking further into his melancholic reflections, a sharp knock echoed through the room, jolting him from her reverie.
Cautiously, he approached the door, each step measured as he wrapped his fingers around the cold handle. "Who is it?" He called out, his voice steady but curious.
"Dinner has been served, sir," a deep, masculine voice replied from the other side.
"Oh, yeah! I almost forgot!" He blurted as he hurriedly turned the handle and opened the door to find a butler standing before him.
He was impeccably dressed in formal attire, reminiscent of the butler he had encountered earlier. He carried himself with a refined grace, yet didn't wait for Ambrose's acknowledgment before striding down the hallway, his hand ringing out a sharp clap.
"Dinner will be served on the ground floor. Guides will escort you to the cafeteria. Should you need anything further, don't hesitate to ask the others or call the front desk from your room," he announced, his tone authoritative yet devoid of warmth.
Without waiting for a response, the butler proceeded down the stairs, leaving Ambrose and others momentarily stunned.
Cautiously, he stepped into the hallway, his eyes scanning the faces of the guests milling about. A wave of loneliness washed over him as he realized how closely knit the groups had become—his regret at choosing Amphi over the others growing, but his gut still reassured him that his choice was right.
Then, from the corner of his eye, he spotted a familiar figure amid the crowd.
"Amphi!" Ambrose called out, his voice rising with excitement as he hurried toward him.
The sudden movement attracted several curious glances from nearby guests, but his focus honed in on Amphi.
Unfortunately, the expression on Amphi's face suggested he was far from pleased to see Ambrose. In an instant, his confidence faltered, and he backstepped slightly, 'Damn it, I was supposed to act casual!'
'Not him again. Am I some kind of magnet for meddlesome people?' Amphi groaned inwardly, though he masked his irritation with a cheerful, closed-eye smile. "Ah, if it isn't Ambrose, back again!"
"Heh…?" He replied nervously, twisting a strand of his hair between his fingers.
Amphi's discerning gaze took in his new attire, noting how much more at ease he appeared in the casual ensemble. He himself had also undergone a transformation, now clad in different attire with a sizable bag slung across his shoulder.
"Did you find anything interesting?" he asked, his overly enthusiastic tone contrasting sharply with the irritation that simmered beneath the surface.
"Oh! Yeah!" Ambrose exclaimed, his excitement bubbling over once again as he dashed back to the room to retrieve the red box with a bold white cross. "I found this medical bag in my room!"
"Strange, there weren't any in my room," Amphi murmured, furrowing his brow as he pulled out his notepad, diligently jotting down the discovery. "Hey…"
"Yes?" Rose replied, the pride of having found something useful evident in her voice.
"Are planning to follow me again.." he said, crossing his arms with a disapproving look.
As Ambrose observed Amphi's expression, guilt welled up in his heart as he thought of an appropriate answer. "No… maybe…"
"Is that a yes?" he arched an eyebrow, not exactly surprised but not pleased either.
"..." Ambrose stared at him in silence, not wanting to agree or disagree either.
"Go find someone else to annoy." Amphi said before dashing down the stairs, leaving Ambrose alone.
Upon descending to the ground floor, he noted the significant increase in the number of servants bustling throughout the hotel—a stark contrast to the quieter morning hours. He pulled out his notebook, jotting down observations about the heightened surveillance during meal times, and proceeded toward the cafeteria.
He recalled that one of the doors that had been locked during his first inspection was now open to reveal a vibrant cafeteria, filled with the melodic hum of chatter and the clatter of silverware clinking against plates. The rich aromas wafting through the air sent his stomach growling in anticipation.
In the center of the room stood an imposing long table, a veritable buffet displaying an array of culinary delights.
The NPC's were gathered around, joyfully indulging in the delectable dishes, their elegantly manicured hands diving into the feast with reckless abandon.
Amphi's usually closed eyes widened as he approached the table, captivated by the vast selection laid out before him. Seafood dominated the offerings: grilled oysters glistening under soft lighting, delicate gougères, lobster thermidor nestled in creamy sauce, and salmon wellington wrapped in flaky pastry—each dish more tempting than the last.
He piled his plate high with a little bit of everything until it was filled to the brim. Seeing the others eat with carefree abandon, he decided to fill his own plate, pushing past his hesitations about the potentially dangerous cuisine.
At that moment, Ambrose reappeared, joining a few other players who'd just entered.
Seeing Amphi, his face lit up, and he hesitantly followed behind at the buffet table. To not make the interaction too awkward, Ambrose had a plate in his hands, and he was looking at the assortment of food on the table.
"You can stop pretending." Amphi said, raising a questioning brow at him.
"Doing what..!" He muttered, but quickly shrunk when he noticed Amphi's scrutinizing gaze.
"I'll give you one chance to explain why you want to follow me," He sighed, giving up on the idea of getting rid of him. "
"Um well," He whispered, his eyes glistening with expectation. "Ya' see, ever since I was a kid, I've had an extremely good instinct. Whenever there is something dangerous, or something I need to follow, my gut tells me.
"Like, one time, I had a gut feeling that I shouldn't sit in the seat I sat in everyday. I trusted it, and thunder struck that seat that day. That's just one of the events, I've had plenty of other stories.
"But the point is that my gut is telling me to follow you. That's why I can't let you go." Ambrose finished as he looked down at Amphi, hoping Amphi would trust him.
Amphi stared at him, taken aback by the story. 'Well, I guess if you're following me, you have to have something wrong with you..'
Just then, he felt a menacing gaze piercing into his back. Turning, he found a boy staring at him intently, a scowl firmly affixed to his features.
"Let's test that resolve on yours." Amphi smirked mischievously as he started walking towards them. "Follow me."
"Oh! Ok!" Ambrose blurted in excitement as he followed, his plate was somehow also already full. His heart swelled with satisfaction at joining him, reveling in the sense of accomplishment that came with being acknowledged after feeling dismissed.
Without so much as an invitation, Amphi took a seat at the crowded table where all eyes now turned toward him and Ambrose. He suddenly felt a surge of nerves well up as he settled into the chair beside him, acutely aware of the scrutiny from the others.
"Don't you think you should stay in your lane, it's quite sad to see Sir Ambrose be accompanied by a little wimp," A well-dressed young man at the opposite end of the table remarked, laughter threading through his words. Upon closer inspection, he was the same guy causing the commotion on the cruise.
"Come on, Sir Ambrose," he continued, a sly grin stretching across his face as he glanced between at Ambrose. "You should spend time with us. Why ruin your image with a runt?"
Taking a moment to ponder, Amphi finally released a deep sigh and flashed a radiant smile. "Well clearly it's because my face is more to his taste. But I do feel a bit sorry for your.. features, so I'd be willing to share some tips on enhancing your appearance—if you beg, that is."
An uncomfortable silence descended upon the table, as the guests blinked in shock, their expressions frozen as if they were witnessing a dangerous spectacle. Ambrose couldn't hide his surprise, staring wide-eyed at Amphi.
'First of all, I'm not into you! Second of all, who are you?! Third of all, why am I being dragged into this!? What did I do?!' Ambrose screamed in his head, feeling too awkward to speak up about his thoughts in between the tension.
Meanwhile, Amphi's gaze drifted toward the ceiling, curious if the voice that governed their game would respond. It didn't. 'So, it's acceptable for us to engage in conflict as long as we don't expose ourselves as players.'
"Aha, do you think you're still dreaming?" the boy at the edge of the table chuckled, although his smile appeared strained.
"I'm genuinely intrigued by those tips of yours. How about we continue this conversation in the garden after this?" he suggested, a sly grin spreading across his face. The others at the table exchanged knowing smiles, sensing the tension building—it was a blatant challenge.
"Sounds less like begging and more like a casual invitation," Amphi chuckled, clearly unfazed by the tension in the air. He was acutely aware of the others' eyes, drawn to the sleek camera perched above their table, its lens gleaming ominously.
'Fights might be off-limits in this space,' he thought, 'but the garden is possibly unmonitored. I need to jot this down for future reference.'
Across the table, the boy's grip on his fork tightened, his knuckles whitening as anger surged within him. His initially confident smile began to falter, morphing into something strained and forced.
"Please?" he uttered, his voice dropping to a near whisper, masking the rage simmering just below the surface. Each syllable was an effort, as if he was wrestling with his own emotions, which threatened to erupt at any moment.
"Are you even trying? What a pitiful display of begging. Good thing you're wealthy; if you were destitute, you'd be in real distress," Amphi taunted, meticulously fanning the flames of the confrontation.
Even Ambrose, who sat quietly observing, felt a twinge of anxiety as he noticed the boy's anger manifesting in the way he bent the spoon in his grip. 'Maybe, maybe I should ignore my gut for once.. I think second-hand embarrassment might kill me first…'
"Oh, please, Amphi? I'm—truly—so—desperate," the boy forced out, each word dripping with barely-contained frustration, suggesting that another taunt might just push him over the edge.
"Hmmm, nope!" Amphi cackled, clearly enjoying the spectacle. "Not today."
The boy's face blazed crimson as he twisted the fork until it was unrecognizable, his frustration palpable. Ambrose glanced at him, worry etched across her features, questioning why he would provoke someone twice his size. 'What are you thinking? You're going to get crushed!' he thought anxiously.
Meanwhile, Amphi appeared utterly unfazed, relishing his meal without a care in the world. He noted, with mild curiosity, that the boy recognized his name, even though Amphi had never formally introduced himself.
Unperturbed, he continued to indulge in the exquisite flavors of the meal, savoring each bite as if it were his personal triumph. Ambrose watched in disbelief, his admiration for Amphi's audacity battling with the mounting dread of his loss of appetite.
He took a few cautious bites from his plate, but the food that had once seemed delightful now felt bland and unappealing. The once inviting aroma of the dishes began to overwhelm his senses, transforming into an unsettling reminder of the escalating tension at the table. They all sat together—one man delighting in his meal, the rest glaring daggers at him, and one man caught in between, yearning only to escape the brewing storm.