"Heh... hah..."
Isabel gasped for air, taking huge breaths as she propped herself up against the wall and strained to move forward.
She had long since lost count of the number of times she had died and could no longer discern which dream layer she was in now.
It hurt so much...
Each death brought her intense punishment.
At first it was just some fever and weakness—painful and uncomfortable, yet she could indeed proceed with the investigation.
After the first time she was pushed down the stairs to her death, she awoke to find herself bound and sitting in the hall.
Apart from herself, there were six other people present. Some cursed loudly, while others were silent.
And a young man with deep-set features and chestnut-brown hair seemingly found a violin out of nowhere and was enjoying the storm outside the window, playing discordant noises at will.
Yes, noises—at least by Isabel's standards. She'd been better at the violin after just three months of practice than this.
