“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.”

I was formally detained.

From the only survivor, I became the prime suspect.

All the evidence formed a perfect loop.

Motive, weapon, fingerprints, the scene… everything pointed to me.

I had nothing to say in my defense.

All I could do was replay every detail of that night, over and over again.

That pumpkin-headed figure…

He was tall, much taller than anyone I’d seen at work, at least six-foot-three.

The way he walked was strange, dragging slightly, like a real scarecrow.

He never said a word.

There was only the roar of the chainsaw and the sound of heavy breathing.

All of it really happened.

But no one believed me.

I went from screaming and defending myself to numb silence.

The door to the holding cell opened.

A man walked in.

He was in his early thirties, tall, dressed in plain clothes.

I remembered him.

I’d seen him once in the interrogation room.

“Hello. My name is Marcus Cole.”

He pulled out a chair and sat across from me, without any small talk.

“I have a few questions.”

His voice was calm, lacking the sharp pressure Daniel carried.

I nodded numbly.

“When did you discover that hidden compartment?”

“After we entered the farmhouse area, about ten minutes in. I tend to tap around out of habit, and that’s how I found it.”

“You’re sure you discovered it, and didn’t already know it was there?”

Marcus fixed his gaze on me.

I froze for a moment, then understood what he meant.

“I’m sure! I’ve never played that theme before!”

Marcus didn’t press the point and shifted directions.

“How many times have you been to that escape room?”

“Plenty. I’ve tried different themes there. I’m a member.”

“So you’re familiar with the place, including the surrounding layout?”

“Fairly familiar.”

Marcus nodded, as if the answer didn’t surprise him.

He didn’t ask any more about the room itself. Instead, he abruptly changed the subject.

“Sophie Sullivan, let’s talk about your boss, William Zoo.”

His tone was flat, but something about it made my chest tighten.

“Why did he take you there?”

Marcus fixed his eyes on mine. “According to our investigation, he had already canceled the booking.”

“How would I know? Maybe he just wanted to throw together some last-minute team-building.”

I shrugged weakly.

“Is that so?” Marcus paused, setting his pen down. “Not because his son was kidnapped?”

I froze. “Kidnapped?”

Marcus slid a photo toward me.

It was William’s seven-year-old son.

“An hour before you left for the escape room, William received an anonymous call.

The caller told him that if he wanted his son alive, he had to bring all the core members of the project team to that escape room, on time, and take part in the game.”

My mouth opened, my voice starting to shake uncontrollably. “I… I didn’t know…”

“That anonymous call was made through an overseas virtual relay. But the original signal traces back to your phone,” Marcus said coldly.

“That’s impossible!” I shot to my feet. “My phone was with me the whole time!”

Marcus closed his notebook, then shifted the direction of his questioning.

“William’s son was later returned home safely. He said a woman wearing a pumpkin mask took him out for candy and played with him all afternoon.”

A flicker of hope rose in my chest. This proved there was someone else—the real killer behind the mask.

“The boy was shaken, but he remembered one very important detail,” Marcus continued slowly.

“He said when she handed him candy, her wrist was exposed for a moment. On it was a very unusual tattoo.”

Marcus took out another photo. It was a child’s drawing.

A twisted pumpkin face, its mouth split all the way to the ears, its eyes hollow spirals.

“This kind of gothic-style tattoo… a lot of people have them…” My voice grew quieter and quieter.

Marcus said nothing. He simply placed a third photo in the center of the table.

The background was a beach and the open sea.

It was a vacation photo I had posted three months ago.

In it, I was wearing a swimsuit, smiling brightly over my shoulder.

And on the inside of my wrist was the exact same pumpkin tattoo from the child’s drawing.

The holding room fell silent, except for the ticking of the clock on the wall.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

Marcus finally spoke again.

“Miss Sullivan, do you still want to say you don’t know anything?”