There's definitely something wrong with this murder mystery game

Decorative displays lined the walls of the corridor, and a vase had shattered near the rotating staircase. Judging by the size of the fragments, the vase was about forty centimeters tall.

The pianist picked up a piece of porcelain and saw streaks of red blood among the water stains on the floor.

Had someone used the vase to smash someone else?

At the same time, the scenario he had been picturing in his mind became gradually clearer—the victim had been attacked with the vase between the stairs, which caused them to fall down and hit a prism-shaped column before running towards the entrance.

Now, the traces of blood left in the kitchen confirmed there was one victim, while the bloodstains at the main entrance indicated a second victim, and a large pool of blood near the living room coffee table could be from a third.

Given the substantial amount of blood loss, all three were likely already dead.

But the script only mentioned one "ghost"...

No, that's not right!

The task only specified to find the "ghost" in the story, not how many there were.

The pianist gazed at the vase fragments, deep in thought, when suddenly a voice emerged from nearby, "Speaking of which, it seems like this is the only vase in the entire mansion. It must be quite precious, right?"

The pianist quickly turned around and saw the dancer in a fiery red gown.

The dancer appeared quite young, around eighteen or nineteen, her graceful figure accentuated by the fishtail gown. The vibrant red color was striking.

Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, a few strands casually falling across her forehead, her smile revealing a touch of playfulness.

It was this unexpected approach that could catch one off guard.

When had she gotten so close...

Without betraying his emotions, the pianist stood up, holding the piece of the vase in his hand, and smiled, "I'm no expert in art, but it could be an antique for all I know."

With a slight smile, the dancer took the porcelain piece from his hand, caressing the smooth pattern, and said in an ambiguous, leisurely tone, "It's so clean. It must be wiped daily, I guess."

"Perhaps," replied the pianist noncommittally.

He did not continue the conversation, and after a cursory glance at the second-floor layout, he turned and walked towards the room from where he had earlier heard piano music.

The dancer watched his retreating figure, just curving her lips into a smile.

The lighting in the mansion was bright, the space generous. Apart from the chaos and shocking bloodstains, there was nothing particularly sinister or frightening.

A splendid crystal chandelier hung above the rotating staircase, its sparkling light casting reflections on the glossy red steps.

Swishing her fiery red gown, the dancer walked to the railing, leaning over to look down.

...

...

Half-past midnight.

The servants' quarters were on the first floor, close to the kitchen and laundry room, and were easy to find.

While everyone else was scattering to look for clues, the male servant returned to the living room tall cabinet and took out the revolver he had placed there earlier.

Wearing a body-fitting vest suit, his trousers did little to conceal the shape of the revolver; he had had to remove it earlier.

The male servant looked around to make sure no one was paying attention to him, then flipped open the cylinder to check the bullets.

Six chambers, indeed one was missing.

It was unclear where it had been used.

The male servant pocketed the handgun again, planning to hide it in his room first, but as he passed the sofa, something caught his eye.

There seemed to be something glittering under the coffee table.

After some thought, the male servant went back to his quarters on the first floor, hid the revolver under the mattress, and then returned to the living room.

He lay on the ground and from a three-centimeter gap under the coffee table, pinched out a bullet.

The metallic casing, about twenty-five millimeters in length, with a black tip that was slightly damaged indicated it had been fired.

Since it was found near the sofa in the living room, the nearby bloodstain was likely left by someone struck by the bullet, with the blood sprayed from the sofa to the floor.

The male servant turned his gaze to the sofa and mentally simulated the victim's position at the time.

If the shooter was to the right, the assailant might have resolved the person trying to flee the mansion at the entrance and then fired a shot at someone on the sofa.

The bloodstain pattern, one cluster from the edge of the sofa to the floor, and another from the other side of the sofa to the floor.

The victim's position at that time must have been sitting or standing next to the sofa, and after being killed, fell towards the other side, resulting in two separate bloodstains.

Wait, something's not right...

The male servant suddenly became confused. Why would the victim on the sofa just sit there, waiting to be killed?

And the positions of these three bloodstains in the living room, no matter how he thought about it, seemed odd...

While he was lost in thought, footsteps approached.

The male servant reflexively thought to hide the bullet, but after reconsidering something, he gave up concealing it and instead openly held the bullet as he stood up.

The chef was walking towards him.

"Hmm? Have you found something?" asked the chef with a chuckle, his plump face was very friendly as he smiled.

"Perfect timing. I found this, though I'm not sure what to make of it," the male servant said, displaying the fired bullet in the palm of his hand.

The chef's expression shifted subtly, the initial joviality replaced with seriousness as he took the bullet to examine it, commenting, "This means the culprit had a gun, and it's very likely that the gun is still in the mansion."

Having a gun was on a completely different level of combat capability compared to not having one.

The male servant nodded seriously, matching the chef's tone with a worried look, as if deeply troubled about the future.

"By the way, how's your investigation going?" inquired the male servant curiously.

"There should be another victim in the kitchen, but again there are only bloodstains and residual traces of murder, with no extra clues to speculate on what happened," the chef sighed.

"Actually, I suspect that there isn't just one perpetrator." The male servant looked intently at the chef and said seriously, "Could it have been a robbery?"

"But the scene doesn't seem to have many signs of struggle, and, moreover, valuable items have mostly not been lost," the chef pointed to the various collectibles on the high cabinet.

"Hiss, so what exactly happened here?" the male servant pondered once again.

——So, who could the perpetrator be?

Definitely not him.

He knew nothing, he had merely come upon a gun by chance.

...

...

Besides the bedrooms and the piano room, the second floor also has a vast study room next to the master bedroom.

As the owner of the villa, it is highly likely that the lawyer himself used this study room.

But this study room is truly spacious, not only equipped with a coffee table and sofa for receiving guests, but also connected to the master bedroom's walk-in closet through a secret door, and having an attached washroom, it looks full of life.

There are two desks placed in different positions, only divided by a screen.

The profession of a writer allows for flexible work hours and locations, and being a lawyer isn't a job that requires constant traveling either.

Do both of them work in the same study room then?

As even their workspace is not separated, it's apparent they often communicate, their relationship must also be quite good.

Mulling over this, the lawyer walked to the desk with a more composed and straightforward design, casually pulled open a drawer, and looked inside.

There was a sealed document envelope, but it had already been opened.

The lawyer paused for a moment, then took out the envelope and tipped it upside down, expecting something like legal documents, but instead a stack of photos spilled out.

The subject of the photos was the female writer.

With a relaxed and content smile, the female writer sat in the garden sipping tea, and her gaze wasn't on the camera but on the pianist sitting across from her.

Even, the photo looked like it was taken secretly.

Even, there were a stack of pictures like this!

In various scenes of the garden, or on the sofas in the villa, the dining table where they ate, all of them are photos of the female writer with the pianist, although they don't seem to have much physical contact, they do seem to be engaged in animated conversation.

The female writer laughed really beautifully!

The lawyer's expression turned strange as he continued to look through the photos, finally coming to one where the two of them were playing a duet, sitting together on the same stool in the piano room, with their backs to the camera.

This scene was a bit more intimate.

Lawyer: "..."

So, had he been cuckolded?

The lawyer couldn't help but touch his head, feeling like a green hat was being firmly placed upon him, and suddenly he didn't feel so good.

He quickly gathered up the photos and threw them back into the drawer, wishing out of sight, out of mind.

But after a while, he took them out again and continued to look through them.

However, since the "lawyer" collected these things, it meant that he had already suspected that his wife was involved with the pianist, right? So what would he do about it?

After all, which man could endure such a thing?

Would he kill over it?

...

...

The midnight clock ticked steadily forward.

The players had found some clues here and there in the villa, even securing key props.

Only Xu Shuo sat quietly in his room, feeling his way through most of a urban romance story—albeit not a thick book, he found that blind people can actually read quite quickly.

The book was quite interesting, a romance story about a border city painter and a wandering female white-collar worker saving each other, a story filled with artistry.

Xu Shuo closed the book, cocked his ear to listen; melodious piano music drifted from the piano room once again.

His room was close to the spiral staircase, adjacent to the piano room.

Actually, when the pianist had ascended to the second floor, Xu Shuo had already heard the light steps and the quiet voices of the two people.

The blind girl's hearing was stronger than he had imagined.

The silhouettes of fingers dancing on the piano keys seemed to carry over with the music, but his own understanding of music wasn't profound, so it wasn't until the climax that he recognized "Für Elise", the school bell sound from Xu Xi's junior high school days.

Unlike the person who had aimlessly pressed piano keys before, this time the person in the piano room was playing seriously.

Xu Shuo listened quietly for a while until his door was suddenly, unexpectedly knocked on.

"Sister, have you fallen asleep?" the dancer's cheerful voice came from outside the door.

Xu Shuo thought for a moment, returned the book to the drawer, stood up, and navigated with his cane to the door, unlocking it.

Before he could open the door himself, the person outside seemed to hear the unlocking sound and pushed down the handle, bursting in.

He stepped back hurriedly, but the visitor moved forward as well, and Xu Shuo immediately smelled a faint scent.

Indescribable, it felt a bit stuffy.

The dancer grabbed his shoulders, leaned in close to his ear, and whispered secretively, "Sister, I've discovered something interesting!"