Chapter 3

After hanging up, I ripped the reservation sheet filled with itineraries and plans into shreds.

I tossed it into the trash can.

Finally, some peace and quiet.

Around evening, the doorbell rang.

The president of the Foreign Language Class, Ethan, stood outside, dripping with sweat.

"Amber, save me! The beach resort our class booked got shut down by the health department today, and our graduation trip tomorrow is ruined! Everyone is literally crying!"

"I heard you booked the best cabin block in Silverwood? If your class isn't going, can you transfer the reservation to us at original price? Please!"

Looking at his anxious and sincere eyes, I pointed at the shredded paper in the trash.

Then, I called the host right in front of him and transferred the highly sought-after cabin block to his class.

Ethan was so thrilled he almost bowed to me, leaving with endless thanks.

In contrast, the ugly faces of my classmates who rushed to get a "free dinner" and bit the hand that fed them seemed even more pathetic and laughable.

The next night at 8:00 PM.

The city lights were turning on outside. This was the exact time my class was scheduled to arrive at "The Velvet Mirage" to start their party.

I was sitting on my couch, wearing a face mask and reading a book, when my phone screen suddenly started flashing wildly.

Although I had left the group, my deskmate Maya was a highly socially anxious gossip addict. She was too scared to join the party, so she stayed home, but she couldn't resist her curiosity and had been getting secretly recorded videos from someone there, which she forwarded to me.

"Amber, you missed out big time. This place is seriously insane! I feel like I walked into a movie!"

In the first video.

The estate ground level was magnificent, so golden and bright it made one dizzy.

Mr. Miller, wearing his faded old collared shirt, sat extremely stiffly on an imported Italian leather sofa, looking up at the glittering crystal chandelier, nervously rubbing his hands. But his eyes held an uncontrollable greed.

Chloe wore a deep-V sparkling tight dress, holding a cocktail that glowed with a strange pale-blue fluorescent light and bubbled with dry ice steam. She laughed and leaned close to him.

"Mr. Miller, this is a special non-alcoholic mocktail called 'Dreamy Nebula.' My brother had the bartender make it just for you. It's very healthy, try it."

Mr. Miller had zero defense. He even smiled with pride and appreciation, took the glass, and downed a huge gulp.

Then the camera panned to the classmates playing around the infinity pool.

The guys were excitedly taking photos with several tall, hot models in bikinis, while the girls were tasting delicate French pastries.

On the surface, everything looked like a high-end, intoxicating party.

I frowned, my fingers tapping the table. Was I really overthinking? Was there really a billionaire doing charity in this world?

But then, the second and third videos came in quick succession.

The vibe began to turn incredibly creepy.

The background music was no longer smooth, elegant piano. It had turned into a heavy, oppressive, deafening death-metal electronic beat.

The lighting had also shifted from warm yellow to an intimate, dim, reddish-purple, oozing a sinister energy.

"Amber, things feel weird... Chloe said we're playing an immersive escape room game! She separated the guys and the girls!"

In the voice message Maya sent, her initial excitement was gone, replaced by a slight tremble. In the background, I could hear a few girls gasping in fear.

In the video, the classmates were led by several expressionless servers into a long, narrow corridor with no windows, its walls hung with bizarre oil paintings.

And in a panoramic photo of the corridor that Maya accidentally captured.

I noticed a detail that made my skin crawl instantly.

At the dark end of the hallway stood several incredibly bulky security guards in black suits.

One of them was smoking, his sleeve rolled up slightly, revealing a hideous, blood-red scorpion tattoo on his wrist.

More terrifyingly.

The waist of his suit was bulging. That was definitely not the shape of a walkie-talkie or a baton.

That was a taser, or even... the outline of a real gun!

Why would a cultural seminar experience require elite, armed-to-the-teeth thugs with mob backgrounds?

Cold sweat instantly drenched my back.

I finally realized where that overwhelming sense of dread was coming from!

A free luxury experience, fresh graduates with no life experience, deliberately separated genders, and an isolated mountain forest.

This wasn't a party. This was a perfectly designed trap for prey!

Just as I grabbed my phone, intending to call Maya and tell her to call the cops and run immediately.

My phone vibrated violently.

It wasn't Maya. It was a photo and a voice message from Chloe.

In the photo, under the harsh red ambient lights, the scene looked like a living hell.

Mr. Miller was collapsed on the dirty carpet of a VIP room, his eyes tightly shut, his face flushed with an extremely abnormal deep red. His faded shirt was mostly torn open, and his hands were clawing at the air unconsciously.

Beside him, three of the most introverted, pure-looking girls from our class were huddled in the corner of a sofa.

They were shaking and crying, their eyes unfocused, their jackets gone, leaving only thin camisoles.

And Austin, our proud class president, was being pinned to a coffee table by two massive thugs. He held a piece of paper, his hand shaking like a leaf, as he pressed a blood-red thumbprint onto it.

"Amber, it looks like your high-and-mighty attitude couldn't save these idiots, after all."

Chloe’s voice message played. Her voice no longer had her fake, sweet "green tea" disguise. It was filled with sickening malice and triumph.

"Old Miller and these pure little sluts are currently in the VVIP room on B2."

"The 'Dreamy Nebula' mocktail has a pretty strong kick. They seem to have lost all control of their bodies. Any minute now, some big clients are coming in to 'inspect' them."

"Oh, by the way, your dear class president Austin just 'accidently' shattered a pair of antique French urns worth three million dollars in the hallway. He just signed a three-million-dollar loan shark contract. My brother said, if no one pays up, the guys stay to have their limbs fed to the dogs, and the girls stay to shoot high-definition videos for the internet."

"I heard your family is loaded? Didn't you love acting like the big sister of the class? Why don't you bring some cash over and save your beloved teacher and dear classmates?"

The trap was sprung!

The snake had finally bared its poisoned fangs!

She knew that even though I left the group, I could never watch Mr. Miller—who, despite being stingy, had genuinely helped me apply for financial aid during my freshman year when I was struggling—have his life ruined. Nor could I watch those innocent girls get destroyed.

She was forcing me into the game, trying to drag me into the same bottomless abyss!

Staring at Mr. Miller's unconscious face and the girls' hopeless eyes.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

When I opened them again, there was nothing but freezing cold killing intent.

"Send me the passcode to your B2 room."

I typed back, my fingers steady without a single tremble.

"I'm coming now."