To celebrate Halloween, our company booked an immersive “rural horror” escape room.

My boss said whoever could make it to the end without screaming would get a ten-thousand-dollar reward.

As a seasoned horror movie fan, I was instantly tempted.

The core character in the escape room was a scarecrow wearing an oversized pumpkin head.

I admired how well the props were made, but the chainsaw noise was too loud, so I slipped into a hidden compartment, put on my headphones, and scrolled through reels.

The next day, I woke up to a strong metallic stench mixed with the sickly-sweet smell of rotting pumpkin.

The police told me our boss had canceled the booking at the last minute, and the actor originally assigned to play the character had gotten food poisoning.

That pumpkin-headed figure wasn’t one of their staff.

I was woken up by the stench.

It was so overwhelming it hit like a punch to the head.

The metallic tang of rust mixed with the fermented rot of pumpkin forced its way up my nose, leaving my throat raw.

I jolted upright, only to slam my head into something hard, stars bursting across my vision.

“Damn…”

Clutching my head, it took me a long moment before I could make out where I was.

A cramped hidden compartment.

Right, this was the escape room.

Last night, the pumpkin-headed character’s chainsaw had been too loud, so I’d slipped into this hidden storage space.

I’d even been a little proud of myself, thinking I lived up to my reputation as both a seasoned escape room player and a horror movie expert.

As the noise outside faded, I’d put on my headphones, scrolled through some reels, and drifted off.

Where were my coworkers?

Had the game ended?

Who won the ten-thousand-dollar prize?

I pushed open the compartment door, and an even stronger metallic stench hit me head-on, nearly knocking me off my feet.

The farmhouse set outside was dimly lit, with only a few prop lanterns hanging on the walls, casting a faint, sickly yellow glow, just enough for me to see the hellscape in front of me.

There was blood everywhere.

Dark red splattered across hay bales, wooden walls, even the ceiling.

Just as I was thinking the production value of this escape room was insane, the props disturbingly realistic, I saw bodies.

Mangled bodies, sprawled in grotesque, twisted positions.

I recognized the plaid shirt.

It belonged to Kevin, the programmer who joined the company the same time I did.

He was usually obsessively clean.

Now half his body was soaked in thick, blackened blood.

And the one in the Chanel suit was our department director.

Her head was gone.

In its place was a smashed pumpkin, split open and still oozing thick red pulp.

Forensic officers were crouched nearby, photographing the scene.

The moment it hit me that none of this was part of the set, none of it was props, my stomach twisted violently, bile rising in my throat.

I clamped a hand over my mouth, forcing the nausea back down.

“Ugh…”

The dry heave echoed sharply through the dead-silent farmhouse.

“Sir! There’s someone alive over here!” a young officer shouted.

My whole body jolted, my legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the ground.

Within moments, they pulled me out of the escape room.

At the entrance, a middle-aged man was speaking to the police, sweat pouring down his face.

“Officer, I swear! The booking last night was canceled!”

The owner’s voice trembled, on the verge of breaking.

“It was their boss, William Zoo, he called personally to cancel it! He said they had other plans!”

My head rang.

Canceled?

Then what had we been doing last night?

What he said next sent a chill straight through me.

“And the actor we’d booked for the role got food poisoning yesterday afternoon from undercooked mushrooms. He’s still in the hospital!”

The owner’s eyes widened as he stared straight at me.

“Last night… we didn’t have anyone scheduled to play the pumpkin-headed character at all.”

The lights in the municipal interrogation room were blinding, more suffocating than the dim lanterns in the escape room.

Across from me sat Daniel Shaw, head of the city’s Criminal Investigation Unit.

Beside him, taking notes, was a young female officer named Emily.

“Miss Sullivan, go over what happened last night again. In detail.”

Daniel’s voice was calm but carried an unmistakable pressure.

“Don’t leave anything out, no matter how insignificant it seems.”

I nodded, trying to steady my voice.

“Last night was Halloween. Our boss, William Zoo, booked out a rural horror-themed escape room. He said anyone who made it through without screaming would get ten thousand.

“There were nine of us. After we went in…”

I went through everything—the layout, mechanisms, and performance of the scarecrow character with the oversized pumpkin head.

He didn’t move, just listened in silence.

“You said the pumpkin-headed character chased you with a chainsaw?”

“Yes. It was incredibly loud, just this constant buzzing.”

“And you found it too noisy, so you went off and hid in a compartment?”

“Yeah. I’ve done a lot of escape rooms. There’s usually some kind of hidden space like that.”

Daniel exchanged a glance with Emily.

Something about that look made me uneasy.

“So you found the compartment, climbed inside, and then put on your headphones and watched videos until you fell asleep?”

“Yes…”

“Where’s your phone?”

“In my pocket.”

Emily walked over, put on gloves, and took my phone from my coat pocket.

She tapped on it for a moment, then handed it to Daniel.

He glanced at the screen, his brow tightening.

“Miss Sullivan, your video app shows no activity between ten last night and seven this morning.”

“The record is empty.”

I froze.

“That’s impossible! I was watching… I watched several comedy creators!”

“Then why is your viewing history empty?”

Daniel turned the phone screen toward me. “Did you delete it yourself?”

“I didn’t!” I blurted.

“Officer, you can check. I’m a huge fan of horror films and escape rooms. I’m used to that level of intensity. Even in that kind of environment, I instinctively look for a safe spot to settle down.”

“Is that so?”

Daniel reached into the evidence bag and took out another item.

It was an old-looking walkie-talkie-style remote.

“This was found at the entrance to the compartment where you were hiding. It has only your fingerprints on it.”

My heart sank.

“That’s not mine! I’ve never seen it before!”

“Miss Sullivan.” Daniel leaned forward slightly. “That compartment isn’t part of the escape room’s original design.”

“What?”

“The owner says they never built a space like that. It was added later, without their knowledge.

“And it was installed just last month, right around the time of your first visit here. Our tech team examined it.”

Daniel’s voice turned cold.

“This remote was modified. It’s a trigger. One that can start the chainsaw remotely. By the way, that chainsaw wasn’t a prop.

“It was a compact, battery-powered saw. When we found it, there were still bits of flesh and scalp caught in the teeth.”

My stomach lurched, acid rising up my throat.

Kevin’s plaid shirt, the director’s Chanel suit, and the faces of the others flashed through my mind again and again.

“And the other button…”

He paused. “It was meant to trigger a micro gasoline charge planted in the fire sprinkler system.

“The blast radius wouldn’t be large, but it would’ve been enough to turn the entire farmhouse into an inferno in seconds.

“However, it seems the killer hit the start switch but never triggered the detonation. Why do you think he hesitated?”

“It’s not me!”

The words tore out of my throat, almost a scream.

“I don’t know anything! That remote isn’t mine!”

Daniel looked at me coldly. “We’ve looked into your background.”

He pulled a sheet from the folder and slid it across the table.

“You work at NewDream Tech as their senior programmer. Three months ago, there was an internal promotion for project lead. You and Ethan Ward were the top candidates.

“In the end, William Zoo chose Ethan. And Ethan died in the escape room last night.”

I stared at the paper, my fingers trembling uncontrollably.

“That’s just work! I… I was upset, sure, but I wouldn’t kill anyone!”

“Wouldn’t you?”

Daniel pushed another photo toward me.

It was a screenshot of my computer—my chat history with a friend.

“Why promote that kiss-up Ethan? William’s blind!”

“Just wait. One day, I’ll make them both pay.”

My mind went blank.

It was just venting; something I said out of anger to a friend.

“We also looked into your financial situation.”

Daniel didn’t give me a second to breathe, one piece of “evidence” after another laid out in front of me.

“Twenty thousand in credit card debt. Four thousand from online loans. Last week, you mortgaged the house your parents left you, took out one hundred thousand, and put it all into a speculative gaming assets investment.

“And that investment collapsed the day before yesterday.

“Overnight, you lost everything and ended up buried in debt.”

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

Yes, I needed money.

But that didn’t mean I killed anyone.

“We have reason to believe you planned this murder to secure the ten-thousand-dollar reward and to take revenge on your boss and colleagues.

“You know how these escape rooms work. You led them into the trap, then hid yourself in a safe compartment and controlled everything from there.

“And that so-called pumpkin-headed figure was something you made up—a killer you invented to cover your tracks.”

“No…” I shook my head desperately. “There really was someone in the pumpkin head… there really was…”

“Where’s your proof?”

Daniel’s gaze bore into me. “Other than your own statement, who can confirm that?”

Just as I found myself with nothing left to say, the interrogation room door suddenly swung open.

A young officer hurried in and whispered something in Daniel’s ear.

His expression changed.

He stood up and strode out.

A few minutes later, he returned, his face now strangely unreadable.

He stared at me, as if seeing me for the first time.

“Sophie Sullivan, do you know someone named… Chuck Lee?” he asked slowly.

Chuck Lee?

I shook my head.

“No. Who is that?”

“He was the actor originally assigned to play the NPC in that escape room,” Daniel said flatly. “The one who was supposed to wear the pumpkin head.”

A flicker of hope sparked inside me.

“He woke up? He can prove it!”

“When we found him, he was dead.”

Daniel cut me off.

“In his own home. Murdered.

“Time of death was around four yesterday afternoon. Before your company even left for the escape room.

“The weapon was an axe.

“And on the doorknob of his apartment, we recovered a fingerprint.”

Daniel lifted a fingerprint comparison report. The red markings made my eyes ache.

“After analysis, that fingerprint… belongs to you.”