Who was the extra person?
Erik strained to recall, but their contact had been too brief. Some of the female players were quiet and reserved, making it impossible for her to remember all the names and faces. She could only confirm five: Brielle, Ximena, Aurora, Mary, and Adaline.
Three others remained vague in her memory. She couldn't match them to the remaining four women.
"No fire, and our clothes are still wet… The rain's still coming down."
"It's past noon, isn't it? I wonder if Mr. and Mrs. Dashan will still bring us lunch. If they do, maybe we can ask if they have any dry clothes."
"Achoo! I'm freezing! This mountain air is brutal."
Despite the awkwardness of the situation, it brought a subtle sense of camaraderie among them.
There was no sign—nothing at all—that something not human lurked among them.
Without betraying any emotion, Erik quietly approached Brielle, whispered a few words to her, then slipped into her damp clothes and walked into the main hall.
The hall's window was broken, and with the kitchen collapsed, the cold rain and wind now swept in unhindered. No other female players ventured into the room.
After a while, Brielle moved to speak with Ximena. The two of them soon got dressed and joined Erik. They made no attempt to alert Aurora, fearing her inexperience might give them away.
They stepped outside. Rain sprinkled fine and cold against their faces, seeping into their bones.
Brielle and Ximena looked uneasy. The three of them pooled their memories and compared notes.
"There are three other female players," Erik said. "Do you remember who they are?"
"I remember Eliana," Brielle offered.
"My memory's sharp," Ximena said. "The other two are Melody and Rose. That matches."
The three exchanged grim looks.
"The extra one is lying in bed right now. She got into the room and immediately lay down. Aurora asked if she was feeling unwell, but she didn't respond," Brielle said, unnerved. She looked at Erik. "Before your hint, I hadn't realized anything was wrong with her face. She blended in perfectly. But now… I can't remember what she looks like at all."
Erik pressed her lips together and glanced toward the side rooms. "Is this happening only to us, or are the others experiencing it too?"
As though summoned by her words, the door to the right wing creaked open. Gavin emerged, eyes meeting theirs through the curtain of rain. The heaviness in their expressions was mirrored in his.
"I was just about to go find Dashan to ask when lunch is coming. I'm starving. Want to come with me?" Gavin called out.
"Yes—let's go!"
The four of them dashed out into the rain and took shelter beneath the eaves of a nearby house, quickly exchanging information.
"There's an extra person in the right wing too," Gavin sighed. "Also lying in bed. No clue what they want."
"None in the left wing?" Erik asked. "Or maybe they just haven't noticed yet? Either way, it's a good sign the extras are staying in bed. Dashan and his wife should be coming soon with lunch. Once we gather for food, we'll know for sure about the left wing."
Just as she spoke, the courtyard gate opened. Dashan and his wife emerged, carrying wooden buckets.
"Oh my! Guests, what are you doing here?" Dashan's wife exclaimed in surprise.
Gavin grinned cheerfully. "Ah, so your house is over here! We were just about to go looking for you—we're starving!"
Laughing, she replied, "We figured as much! Come on now, the food's just been finished."
"We'll help you carry it!"
Erik picked up one of the buckets. It was heavier than expected—likely a soup pot. Gavin grabbed another and casually asked, "Dashan, you mentioned it's a bad omen when it rains after harvesting the wooden spirit trees. What does that mean exactly?"
Dashan was reluctant to explain, visibly uncomfortable. It took some coaxing from Gavin before he finally opened up. "They say the rain draws bad things. Those batches of spirit wood always cause trouble when turned into puppets—never peaceful. But it's just superstition… don't be too frightened."
Who wouldn't be frightened by that?
Erik interjected, "Is there a way to break the curse?"
Dashan's expression changed slightly. "Don't tell me… you've actually seen something?"
The players nodded, and he grew anxious. "This is beyond me. I have to tell the village chief!"
He set the bucket down and ran out of the hall. His wife hurried after him, clearly unwilling to stay behind.
"Lunchtime!" Erik called into the room.
One by one, the female players came out in damp clothes to collect their meals and eat inside. Erik kept watch, noting that the shadowy figure in the bed only stirred slightly—no intention of getting up to eat.
Aurora, always the slowest, glanced back and asked, "Hey, sis, still feeling sick? Want me to bring your food in?"
A mumbled response came from the bed. Aurora didn't catch it clearly but assumed it was assent. When she passed Erik on her way out, she gave her a puzzled look, unsure why Erik was lingering there.
As soon as Aurora left, Erik shut the door and jammed a stick into the handle to block it.
"You—" Aurora started to protest, but Erik silenced her with a finger to her lips and pulled her away.
Aurora was full of questions, but as soon as she entered the main hall, she sensed something was wrong.
Everyone had gathered there—despite saying they'd eat in their rooms, every player had stayed in the hall, their faces grim.
The male players were the same. Gavin had locked the right wing and checked the left, blocking both doors.
"Every room has one extra person," he said. The words struck like oil on a fire—everyone's heart pounded.
"W-what do you mean?"
"Exactly what it sounds like."
"We can just count. All the players are here in the hall right now."
One by one, they counted. The total was **21**.
Rowan from the left wing gasped. "I thought the extra person on our bed was from your side!"
A player from the right wing echoed, "I assumed ours was from the left!"
It made sense—everyone had come back in a frenzy, and with wet clothes and confusion, it was easy to mistake one another.
If the female players weren't all sleeping together, they might never have realized there was an intruder.
"What do we do now? Could they have followed us from the wooden forest?"
"Don't panic yet. They haven't harmed us—let's wait and see. Dashan went to find the chief."
Though none had the appetite, exhaustion overpowered nausea. Everyone ate cleanly, barely speaking. The rain slowly stopped.
Erik came in holding an empty bowl. "I saw the chief—he's on his way."
The players rushed to clean up and went to greet him at the door.
The village chief arrived with Dashan's support. His once-kind face was now clouded with dread, as though shrouded in a dark aura.
He visited the master bedroom and both side wings, carefully observing the three extra figures before sighing heavily.
"It's been many years since this last happened."
He sat down, rapping his cane against the floor. "What exactly did you do in the wooden forest? Why did you provoke the spirits?!"
Dashan looked ashamed. "I was watching the whole time, chief. Nothing happened."
"Sigh…"
Brielle asked, "Didn't you say puppets with spirits are the best kind? Then what exactly are wooden spirits?"
The chief shook his head. "It's not the same. Not at all."
He explained.
The trees in the forest possess spiritual essence. With the right talent, one can awaken that spirit and craft 'blessed puppets'—benevolent ones that obey their makers and protect the village.
But the wooden spirits that follow during the harvest are **malignant**. They reject the wooden bodies—they want human flesh.
He gave the players a pitying look. "They followed you down. They've chosen your bodies."
A wave of fear swept through the room. Rowan shouted, "Who did it?! Who attracted them? Whoever it was should take responsibility!"
"What are you saying! It might've been you!"
Arguments broke out.
"Chief, is there truly nothing we can do?" Erik asked.
The chief shook his head. "There's no easy way. As long as they're denied a body, they won't leave. In the past… lives had to be sacrificed to drive them out. I'm sorry. You came in goodwill to interview us, and now you're in danger."
Tears welled in the old man's eyes.
Tension thickened like smoke. Everyone now eyed each other with suspicion.
There were **three** wooden spirits—and that meant **three** targets.
No one wanted to be one of them. They all silently prayed for someone else to take their place.
Erik prayed too. Better them than her. In this game, survival was everything.
The rain outside finally stopped.
The village chief, comforted by Dashan, calmed himself. "We can't delay. Today, I'll teach you how to craft puppets. The farther you are from the forest, the weaker the spirits grow. Make them quickly and return to the city."
"Can we just leave without making them?" Brielle asked, testing the waters.
As expected, the chief shook his head. "Our custom says—once you've entered the forest, you must craft a puppet. Otherwise, even if you return home, your soul will remain here. If I'd known the spirits were active, I would've sent you puppets from the village instead."
But the players knew… they **had** to make their own.
There was no time to lose. The chief led them to his house.
"My yard is larger, and there's a canopy. All the tools are there too. No need to move them—just come over."
Erik hoisted her tree trunk from the corner of the hall.
The players carried their wood to the chief's home. As Erik set hers down, she saw **three ghostly figures** drift silently through the door.
**The wooden spirits had arrived.**