Chapter 5
813words
Client No. 044… who was she? What connection did she have to that faceless, crying woman? Why did the other woman have her ring? And what did 'I'm sorry I'm late' mean?
Questions swirled in his mind, but this wasn't the time for answers.
Task item four: Play 'Moonlight Sonata.'
He pushed himself upright and scanned the preparation room again. Stainless steel table, bottles, containers, makeup kit… nothing remotely capable of playing music.
It had to be somewhere else.
He crept to the door and pressed his ear against it. Dead silence. The crying woman and Night Patroller were gone.
He eased the doorknob open and peeked out.
The corridor stood empty, bathed in that same ghastly white light.
'Moonlight Sonata'… Beethoven? He remembered the first movement—slow and tranquil. Playing classical music in a funeral home from hell? Couldn't get more twisted than that.
He slipped out of the preparation room and crept down the corridor. Every door he passed was tightly shut, none marked.
At the T-junction, he instinctively glanced right—the corner where the crying woman had huddled was empty now, just a small, damp spot on the floor.
He hurried past.
At the corridor's end stood a staircase. After a moment's hesitation, he climbed up.
The second floor mirrored the first, but quieter. He tried several doorknobs—all locked.
Just as despair set in, he spotted a door at the corridor's end—slightly ajar, with faint light spilling through.
He eased the door open.
A small room—some kind of lounge. Sofa, coffee table. And there, in the corner—an old vinyl record player! Beside it stood a wooden rack with scattered records.
Owen's heart leaped! He rushed over.
He crouched and rifled through the dusty records. Most were unrecognizable, their covers faded with age.
Finally! From the bottom shelf, he pulled out a relatively well-preserved record. White cursive script on the black vinyl read: Beethoven - Moonlight Sonata.
'Moonlight Sonata'!
Found it!
He carefully placed the record on the turntable and reached for the needle…
When suddenly—
An overwhelmingly sweet, nauseating floral scent flooded the room without warning!
The scent bulldozed through the disinfectant and sandalwood smell—sickeningly sweet, unnaturally sweet!
Owen froze! Rule eight: [SMELL WARNING]! Sweet floral fragrance! The Garden's infiltration!
The rule flashed in his mind: [Immediately stop your current task and find the nearest lockable storage cabinet to hide in]!
He spun around! No storage cabinet in the lounge!
The floral scent intensified, becoming almost tangible—pink mist rising in the air! Dizziness and primal fear seized him!
'Cabinet! Need a lockable cabinet!' his mind screamed.
He bolted from the lounge! In the corridor, pink mist thickened! The cloying scent choked him!
Across the hall—a door marked 'Storage Room'!
He lurched toward it and wrenched the knob!
Locked!
'Damn it!' He pounded the door frantically.
The scent grew stronger. From within the pink mist came faint rustling sounds—like growing vines!
The desk in his intern room! It had drawers! Not large, but… did they lock?
When Blurred Face gave him the booklet, the drawer had opened without a key!
His only hope now. A desperate gamble!
Covering his nose and mouth, fighting dizziness and nausea, he sprinted for the stairs! The pink mist wrapped around him like something alive, clinging to his legs.
'Urgh…' he growled, hurtling down the stairs, barreling through the first-floor corridor toward the intern room!
The intern room door stood open! He rushed in and slammed it shut! But that sickly sweet scent—like a parasite clinging to bone—seeped under the door!
He lunged at the desk, grabbed the handle of the first drawer—the one that had held the Black Envelope!
He yanked with all his might!
The drawer didn't budge! Locked!
'No!' Owen's eyes bulged with desperation! The floral scent filled the small room; dizziness swept over him, his vision blurred, and his ears caught faint whispers and eerie laughter.
He pounded the drawer frantically.
From the corner of his eye, he spotted the gray Employee Handbook on the desk.
A thought struck like lightning!
He snatched the handbook and slammed it against the drawer's keyhole!
'Crack!'
A light sound.
Not a lock opening.
But the rulebook—the moment it touched the keyhole—its cover lit up with a faint, almost imperceptible gray light!
Then, with a soft 'click.'
The drawer… popped open!
Owen had no time to think—he yanked the drawer open and folded his body, cramming himself into the tight space!
Just as he squeezed in, frantically pulling the drawer closed from inside—
'Tap… tap… tap…'
Wet footsteps stopped outside the door.
The Night Patroller!
Owen froze! Even his breathing stopped!
The doorknob slowly turned…
