They emerged into what looked like a massive theater.
It stretched endlessly, filled with rows upon rows of broken red velvet seats, thick dust, and twisted mannequins posed like an audience.
At the center of the stage was a giant marionette cross, suspended from the ceiling. Thick, black wires dangled from it like veins.
And beneath the spotlight stood four small stools — one for each of them.
The voice returned.
"Trial Four: The Marionette Game."
"Four players. Four choices.
Only one will be pulled.
The others will watch."
"If you move before the game ends…
another will be taken instead."
Daniel stepped forward slowly. The rules didn't make sense. But they never did until it was too late.
A slow, creaking sound echoed — the sound of invisible ropes stretching from the ceiling and curling down toward them.
The wires slithered over their heads.
Daniel's breathing grew shallow.
"Don't move," Ethan muttered, jaw tight.
One of the wires dropped.
And hovered above Jules.
"No—no, no, don't—" Jules backed up, but the wire followed. It suddenly snapped down like a snake, wrapping tightly around his wrists and ankles, lifting him from the floor.
He screamed as his body was pulled upward like a puppet — limbs jerking violently.
"Jules!" Lena shouted.
Daniel took a step forward.
But Ethan grabbed his arm. "Didn't you hear it? If we move, it takes someone else."
Daniel froze, torn between instinct and fear.
Above them, Jules thrashed like a broken doll.
His mouth opened, but it wasn't his voice anymore.
It was the house's.
"Confess, puppet. Or let me pull deeper."
Jules's jaw trembled. His voice came out cracked. "I—I don't know what it wants—"
"Say it."
Then the wires twisted inside his flesh. You could see it — moving under his skin, like worms. His eyes bulged.
He screamed.
"JULES!" Daniel shouted, fists clenched.
"I—I loved her!" Jules screamed. "Zoe! I loved her and I never told her! I hated that she liked you, Daniel! I hated it! I would've let you die back there just to have her look at me—"
The wires stopped.
A long silence.
Then—
"Too late."
The wires pulled.
With a crack and a jolt, Jules's arms were torn from his shoulders.
Daniel screamed.
Lena turned away, hands over her mouth.
Blood poured like a waterfall from the puppet's suspended body.
But Jules was still alive.
Still sobbing.
His body twitched.
The wires dropped him like garbage.
He hit the floor hard — broken, twitching, half-conscious.
Daniel lunged forward.
This time, the mansion let him.
He slid beside Jules, cradling his friend's ruined body.
Jules's eyes blinked slowly, unfocused.
"I didn't mean it," he whispered, choking on his own blood. "I was just... jealous. You were always better. Everyone always picked you. I just wanted… to matter."
Daniel wept openly now.
"You mattered," he said, voice cracking. "You were my brother."
Jules's lips curved into the faintest smile.
And then… he was gone.
---
Three remained.
Lena. Daniel. Ethan.
They stared at the ruined stage.
The wires coiled back into the ceiling like snakes returning to their nest.
The mannequins in the audience began to applaud.
Slowly. Mockingly.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
The lights dimmed.
The voice whispered:
"Three players remain."
And the stage door creaked open.
---
They walked in silence for a long time.
No one spoke of Jules.
No one needed to.
The air was soaked with grief.
Lena looked pale. Her steps were uneven.
Daniel couldn't stop shaking.
Even Ethan was silent.
They reached another corridor — this one lined with shattered mirrors. Each one showed a version of them — twisted, bleeding, screaming.
Then a staircase.
Spiraling up.
They took it.
Because what else could they do?
---
They found a dusty lounge at the top.
For once, there was no trap. Just a room to breathe.
They sat on the floor in a circle.
Ethan lit a candle from his backpack — a small tealight he'd found in one of the earlier rooms. It flickered weakly, casting shadows across their faces.
No one said anything for a while.
Then Ethan broke the silence.
"We're not all making it."
Lena's eyes shimmered. "Don't say that."
"You know it's true," he replied coldly.
Daniel looked at him. "Then we make it count."
Ethan raised a brow.
"We don't let it win," Daniel continued. "Whatever this place is — simulator, curse, game — it wants us to break. It wants us to turn on each other. To lose everything."
He looked at Lena. Then back at Ethan.
"But I'm not letting it take us without a fight."
Ethan stared at him for a long moment.
Then, slowly, nodded.
"You've changed," he said.
Daniel looked down.
"Everyone else is dead. I have to."
---
Lena reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded photo.
It was from before they entered the mansion — all nine of them, grinning in front of the rusted gate. Daniel in the center. Lena to his right. Jules behind them, smiling shyly. Zoe flashing a peace sign. Maya hugging Harper from behind.
She placed it on the ground between them.
"We remember them," she said. "No matter what happens next."
Daniel looked at the picture.
His throat tightened.
He nodded.
"So they didn't die for nothing."
---
They didn't sleep.
Couldn't.
They just sat, waiting for the next nightmare.
Waiting for Hillview Mansion to ask for another soul.
And knowing — deep down — that one more would be taken before this was over.