Hank was no stranger to survival in the world of horror films, having made it through six terrifying productions. In the context of the Thirteenth Cinema, this was no small feat, and one could easily call him a seasoned actor. There were far more perilous experiences he had survived, so stepping into the room before him without so much as a twitch of hesitation, he wore an expression of composed assurance.
As for Allen, he had only survived one horror film, and naturally, his experience was far less refined. Had it not been for the fact that he had already endured the unimaginable—having witnessed his own decapitation—he might not have been so composed when faced with Ivan's severed body earlier. But with Hank, the veteran actor, by his side, what was there to fear? So, he followed Hank inside.
The room before them was a bedroom. It was notably larger than an ordinary domestic bedroom. The space was open, every corner visible, and the bed was solid, with no hiding place underneath. To be sure, Hank lifted his gaze and surveyed the room one more time.
No one.
Clearly, the influence of the severed finger had played its part. While one could not say that curses were always influenced by the difficulty level of a horror film, most actors believed that such things would indeed have an effect. In reality, the power of cursed objects wasn't always reliable—sometimes, the curse's effectiveness would falter. Of course, like curses that backfire and harm the actors, this was a rare occurrence.
The curse brought about by the severed finger should last for a while longer, but Hank knew it would not last long. Therefore, he had to search the room quickly before the curse's effect wore off.
"Zhang Hua! Take out your phone! Film this!"
He was improvising his lines now, speaking each one carefully, especially when addressing others by name. He made sure not to call out "Allen" by mistake. After all, making an error would cost him a significant penalty in redemption points.
To his surprise, Allen had already taken out his phone and begun filming. Hank had expected this—he knew the curse's backlash wouldn't last indefinitely. Hank, too, drew out his phone and began taking pictures of his surroundings.
Soon, Allen made a discovery.
Beside the bed stood a glass coffee table, and along its edge, there was a very noticeable crack. It appeared to be a recent addition. Although it wasn't clear whether it related to the plot of this horror film, Allen still captured it with his phone.
Meanwhile, Hank also noticed something.
As he crouched down, he spotted, to his shock, five distinct scratch marks on the floor beneath a wardrobe—deep gouges, as though someone had raked their fingernails into the wood.
It was at this moment that both Allen and Hank, simultaneously, noticed something else—an unexpected increase in their redemption points!
After photographing the crack in the glass table, Allen saw his redemption points rise by seventy!
Previously, due to the changes in the plot, his redemption points had dropped to 94. But now, his total had surged to 164!
Allen speculated that, given the room's dangerous nature, his redemption points might continue to increase if they stayed longer. However, he dared not take the risk. To him, the points he had were already enough to use the high heels for more than a second. His pay for this particular film was 150 redemption points, and as long as the time remained under ten seconds, the heels would be effective. But since the story had only reached the second act, he decided it was best to save them for a later moment.
At this moment, Hank felt a twinge of regret. If only Edith were here. Her spiritual sensitivity would surely allow her to sense what had transpired in this room... Of course, that would only apply if a death had occurred here. While utilizing spiritual sensitivity consumed a considerable amount of redemption points, if the intent wasn't to save one's life, the deduction would be somewhat lesser.
Upon discovering the scratch marks on the floor, Hank saw his redemption points rise by 80, even more than Allen's increase.
"Let's go," Hank said, pulling Allen with him as they quickly exited the room.
"My business... I hope you won't tell anyone else." Hank lowered his voice, his tone filled with a rare vulnerability. "I don't want anyone to know I possess such an ability."
"Don't worry, I won't say a word," Allen responded, naturally complying.
After leaving the dim corridor and returning to the living room, they found it still empty.
"Ugh..." Allen slumped onto the sofa, casting a glance at Hank. "I found a crack in the glass coffee table."
"Hmm... Take a look at this."
Hank opened his phone screen and showed Allen the scratches under the wardrobe.
"Something definitely happened in this villa," Hank said, his voice still hushed. "Perhaps there's something... unclean here."
Allen nodded. "I know."
Since the moment the red high heels became his, the script had undergone a change, designing Zhang Hua as a character who had an interest in supernatural phenomena, which explained how he had come to possess the cursed shoes.
"But I doubt anyone else will believe it. So, let's keep this between us."
If they spoke of it, the deduction of redemption points would be even greater. Besides, everyone already knew this was a horror film.
As for Allen, the crack in the glass coffee table and the scratches under the wardrobe...
A scene began to unfold in his mind. He imagined two characters—A and B. For some reason, A needed to kill B. During their struggle, the glass coffee table shattered, and as B was finally overpowered and faced death, his hand reached out to grip the wardrobe in a desperate attempt to survive. In the end, B was pulled away, his fingers leaving deep gouges in the floor.
B's restless soul lingered and eventually killed Ivan... So, if the murderer was A, what was their fear of B? Why did they offer such a generous reward and summon the others here? Was it to have B's vengeful spirit kill them all? But then, what was in that basement room? They had prepared meals for one another, and some had indeed eaten the food. So there must have been someone down there.
Do not open the door...
If A is the mastermind, why emphasize this so much? What could be hidden behind that door?
Why, then, did someone die without ever opening it?
At that moment, a sudden flash of insight crossed Allen's mind.
Had the door really never been opened?
If it were another character's independent action, the other actors wouldn't know about it. What if one of them had, against all odds, opened that door, only to later lock it again?
As for the key, that was easily explained. Perhaps one character accidentally found it. Such plot twists were common in horror films. On the surface, deducting redemption points would suffice, but what if this were a red-line plot point?
The more Allen thought about it, the more plausible this theory seemed.
Hank was the protagonist—could he have done such a thing? It was hard to say. In horror films, the main character often breaks taboos and seeks death in foolish ways. Cheryl, Ivan, Wu Jun, Liu Ying, and Zhao Xiaoya could all be suspects.
If that were the case, then one person must have the key. Perhaps that key itself was a cursed object. After all, how could a normal room hold a vengeful spirit behind a locked door?
At noon, lunch was finally ready. However, the meal was completely different from the pre-arranged menu (though, of course, the script didn't specify much about the lunch). Liu Ying and Zhao Xiaoya delivered the meal to the food elevator and pressed the button.
The others, their enthusiasm for the meal having waned, gathered in the living room with anxious expressions, their faces filled with unease.
Cheryl perched with her legs crossed, lighting her tenth cigarette of the day. The ashtray before her was completely filled with discarded cigarette butts. Wu Jun, too, took one for himself, lighting it up. Hank and Allen, non-smokers, deliberately kept their distance from the pair, avoiding the second-hand smoke.
The room was suffocatingly silent—after all, this was the script's blank period.
"I have something to say," Allen spoke up before Hank could. "I have something to show you all."
He quickly retrieved his phone and presented the photos to everyone.
"This is..."
All eyes turned toward him.
"The crack in the glass coffee table, and these scratches on the floor..." Allen surveyed the group, his tone turning serious. "I think there's something wrong here."
Though he hadn't discovered the scratches himself, he had also taken a photo of them after the fact.
Sure enough, his redemption points had not been deducted; instead, they increased by 40 points!
Allen's redemption points immediately shot up to 194.
Hank was momentarily taken aback, not expecting Allen to jump in front of him. He also realized that if these matters were shared with the others, it would undoubtedly further increase everyone's redemption points.
Of course, Allen was just as surprised to see an increase of 40 redemption points. He then considered the significant impact revealing this could have on the script—everyone would head to that room to investigate, triggering a butterfly effect that would surely alter the course of events.
However, for Allen, this was far from enough. It would only give him ten seconds to use the cursed high heels. Ten seconds was far too brief to make any substantial change.
"Perhaps there is something truly wrong," Cheryl's expression grew serious. "The crack in the coffee table could be explained as mere furniture damage, but these scratches are another matter entirely. No one would randomly gouge marks into the floor like that; a person's nails would break from such force..."
"Wait a minute!" Wu Jun interjected, his voice rising. "Actually, I..."
"What is it?"
"I've found something too! In that room with the antique porcelain, there was a chair, and beneath it... I saw a bloody handprint!"
Wu Jun had hesitated to mention it before, fearing that revealing it would cost him redemption points. But seeing Allen speak up without hesitation, clearly pleased by the revelation, made him realize that, perhaps, sharing his discovery would be beneficial.
"What?!" Cheryl's face paled.
Immediately, the group rushed to that room.
Of course, both Allen and Hank had mentally prepared themselves to bring out the cursed items at a moment's notice, should the situation take a dangerous turn.
Upon entering the room, they too saw the blood handprint beneath the chair.
"Indeed..." Hank said, his voice resolute. "This villa... something truly extraordinary has happened here!"