Where there are surveillance cameras, there are always surveillance screens.
Judging from the overall layout of the castle, the higher the floor, or the deeper underground it goes, the stronger Egger's personal imprint becomes.
In other words, if the eighth floor was already a bathroom, then the ninth floor—being the topmost level—had to be the most private place in the entire castle.
If there was a control room for all this surveillance, Xie Mingchi was certain it would be either on the eighth or ninth floor. Egger spent most of her time watching the guests, not just cooking meals or showering.
The heavy smell of blood in the bathroom had driven them out before long.
Just as they were about to head to the ninth floor, Xie Mingchi grabbed Wan Wuqiu's arm. "Wait."
Wan Wuqiu stopped. "What is it?"
"We should split up," Xie Mingchi suggested. "Egger's in the kitchen right now, so she can't be monitoring the cameras. This is the best chance to check the mirrors."
Wan Wuqiu agreed, but he didn't like the idea of splitting up. "I'll go tell Shen Feinian and Feng Yu to check the mirrors, then I'll come back to find you."
But Xie Mingchi shook his head. "No, you need to check them."
Wan Wuqiu frowned. "Why?"
Xie Mingchi hesitated a moment. "You want the truth?"
Wan Wuqiu raised an eyebrow. "Of course."
Xie Mingchi sighed, glancing away as he muttered, "Fine, then. Honestly… I trust you the most."
Because he trusted Wan Wuqiu the most, this job had to fall to him.
It wasn't that he didn't trust Shen Feinian and Feng Yu. They were clearly people Wan Wuqiu trusted—if they'd been invited into the previous puppet world as actors, then their relationship with him had to be solid.
And Feng Yu? The guy had shown up in the middle of the night after finishing his thesis, just to have Xie Mingchi review it in the middle of nowhere. If that wasn't the behavior of an honest man, what was?
He had no reason to doubt them. Xie Mingchi had already accepted them as teammates.
But there's trust, and then there's trust.
He trusted Shen Feinian and Feng Yu to be on his side—to have his back when things got real.
But Wan Wuqiu was something else entirely.
Xie Mingchi couldn't say exactly what made Wan Wuqiu different. Maybe it was the way he always felt like the closest person in the room.
Maybe it was because Wan Wuqiu was his ghost puppet. Their connection went all the way back to his past life.
Maybe it was the way they always seemed to think alike, read each other without words.
If Wan Wuqiu was the one checking the mirrors, Xie Mingchi could rest easy.
He wasn't sure about others, but if Wan Wuqiu was involved, he'd catch every single detail—and the exact ones Xie Mingchi himself would've paid attention to.
It was like Wan Wuqiu was an extension of his mind. He could sense what clues Xie Mingchi needed—and sometimes, he noticed things Xie himself would've missed.
Back in the maze villa, Xie Mingchi had picked the wrong soul thread and panicked. But Wan Wuqiu had told him to follow his instinct—that he'd cover him.
Thinking back, Wan Wuqiu must've realized he had chosen the wrong thread. And even then, he let Xie go for it, fully believing he'd catch the mistake in time.
And if he didn't? Wan Wuqiu had the confidence to grab the right soul thread himself before it was too late.
Wan Wuqiu already knew the perfect way to clear that puppet world. He'd been like a chessmaster, indulgently letting Xie Mingchi play freely—because he could clean up afterward.
Honestly, Xie Mingchi felt kind of awkward about it. A little inexplicably uncomfortable.
Wan Wuqiu's unconditional faith and support made him happy—thrilled, even.
But somewhere inside, he also felt a faint trace of resentment. Because that trust wasn't for him—not exactly.
It was for the past him.
Xie Mingchi believed that a person's experiences made them who they were. His past life could never have walked the same path, endured the same things.
They were fundamentally different people.
And yet, he'd somehow become someone else's substitute. That rubbed him the wrong way.
After hearing his confession, Wan Wuqiu frowned briefly, then smiled. "Alright, we'll split up." He reached out and brushed dust off Xie Mingchi's shoulder. "Be careful, Xie Mingchi."
Xie Mingchi nodded. Wan Wuqiu didn't waste another moment—he turned and headed toward the fourth floor.
Xie Mingchi, on the other hand, climbed to the ninth.
There was only one room on the ninth floor. It was the very tip of the castle, and the way the stairs descended into it made it feel more like a cellar.
The entrance was covered by a wooden panel. Xie Mingchi lifted it, and sure enough, below it was Egger's bedroom.
He followed the small staircase down and began to look around.
The room was steeped in an extravagant European aesthetic: a grand four-poster bed, a vanity, a wardrobe, a bathroom, and an enormous crystal chandelier overhead. It was all elegant, but oppressively dark.
And precisely *because* the style was so consistent, it made the anomaly stand out instantly.
Beside the vanity sat a massive wooden desk that stretched across nearly the entire room.
On it were rows of computers—each screen displaying surveillance feeds from throughout the castle.
Xie Mingchi gave the setup a once-over. Every single room had a camera, each placed in the upper corner of the wall facing the window. Full 360-degree coverage.
His stomach clenched. He scoured the screens carefully…
No surveillance in the bathrooms.
Thank God. At least Egger had some concept of personal boundaries.
Xie Mingchi let out a sigh of relief.
If even the bathrooms had cameras, he would've sworn off using them for good.
Still, while the cameras didn't go inside, it was easy to tell when someone entered a bathroom, based on the main room's footage.
He kept flipping through the feeds…
All of their bedrooms were under surveillance. Even the unoccupied rooms had cameras.
The dining room, hallways, the main lobby—every area except the eighth and ninth floors was rigged.
A chill ran down Xie Mingchi's spine. What kind of voyeur installs this many cameras in their own home?
Well… he had to admit, Egger was surprisingly up to date with technology. All these monitors and surveillance systems? She clearly knew what she was doing.
But it made him wonder—could Western ghosts become ghost puppets too?
How strong was a ghost puppet's learning ability, anyway? How did Egger even know how to use this kind of equipment?
Just as he'd suspected, the surveillance system's audio was impressive too. For instance, Lu Meng was currently cursing up a storm in her room—and he could hear every word crystal clear.
Normal conversation volumes could definitely be picked up from here.
Still, he was confident that when Wan Wuqiu had leaned in to talk beside him earlier, the volume had been too low to register.
Soon, Wan Wuqiu appeared in the feed, standing in their room and carefully examining the mirrors.
Xie Mingchi pulled his gaze away from the monitors and began searching the bedroom.
The most notable difference compared to the guest rooms was the absence of mirrors.
In fact, even the vanity—where a mirror was typically the focal point—was completely bare. No broken glass, no remnants. The room was spotless, like a freshly rented apartment.
He checked the bathroom next, eyes settling on the area above the sink.
A red cloth had been draped over something. Clearly, something was being hidden.
Xie Mingchi reached out and yanked the cloth away.
Beneath it was a mirror.
To be precise, it was the only mirror in the entire room. And yes—he could see his own reflection in it.
That was consistent with the mirrors in the guest rooms; the one above their own sink also reflected them normally.
But there was a difference.
The mirrors in their rooms had small candle holders on either side, with candles inside.
This mirror had holders, but no candles.
Which made sense. Mirrors and candles were traditionally used in rituals to summon Bloody Mary. Egger had no reason to summon herself, so covering the mirror and skipping the candles was logical.
That also explained why this was the only mirror in her room.
He kept searching. The vanity was simple—no drawers. Just a small sewing kit on top.
He turned to the wardrobe next.
After what he'd found in the bathroom earlier, he braced himself, holding his breath as he opened it.
And then… he froze.
Compared to the horrors from before, this wardrobe looked shockingly normal.
In fact, compared to the bathroom's, this one was downright mundane.
A few dresses hung inside—two, specifically. One was what Egger had worn during the day; the other was the red dress he'd seen in the mirror last night.
There were accessories and shoes too.
Just… a regular wardrobe.
The only thing that stood out was one of the drawers.
He tugged it. Locked.
Sighing, Xie Mingchi pulled out a bobby pin from his pocket—the same one he'd borrowed from Shen Feinian—and set to work.
Click.
The lock opened with a crisp sound. He pulled the drawer open.
Inside were documents.
He frowned, reaching for the top file.
It was a medical report.
And at the top, it bore a name: Egger Tang.
He opened the file and began reading carefully.
It was issued by a psychiatric hospital. Detailed patient information, treatment history, costs, and notes from her doctors were all included.
One line in particular made Xie Mingchi pause.
Egger had depression?
He skimmed through, noting that her first treatment had taken place in her teenage years—likely high school.
From her parents' names, Xie Mingchi guessed she was mixed-race—one parent local, the other foreign.
And judging by the treatment costs, her family had to be wealthy.
Xie Mingchi stared at the numbers and felt tears of bitterness well up.
Damn rich people, he thought. Always richer than me.
He turned to the notes from her first therapy session.
> "Patient suffers from severe depression due to long-term psychological trauma. Initial treatment involved conservative conversation-based therapy to prevent resistance."
He kept reading—page after page of updates, each detailing a worsening condition.
If he were Egger's psychiatrist, he'd be in full-blown panic by now.
> "Symptoms worsening; patient refusing to cooperate. Recommend…"
> "Patient exhibiting violent behavior; severe hostility. Recommend…"
>"Patient…"
Each note grew shakier, the handwriting more frantic.
Until the very last entry, which made Xie Mingchi's heart sink.
>"Patient spends most of her time in delusion, completely rejecting treatment. Fully immersed in a self-constructed world. Extremely dangerous. Avoid! Avoid! AVOID!!!"