Clutching the velvet cloth slightly moistened by the exhaled moisture, Yvonne crawled through the gap at the edge of the dust area, and looked down to see the clearly defined fingers, the arms-shaped blanks, and the radial outline of the spasmodic blow, undoubtedly a human crouching here.

She thought it might be a clever servant who had escaped by pretending to be dead, or had been dragged away by the things, but the outline was too complete and well-bounded, and there was no sign of struggle and movement, more like some force lifting him all together and disappearing into the air.

Before she had time to think about it, she slipped through the gap between the two chairs, shrunk under the table, wiped the dust from her hands on the hem of her skirt, and pinched her nose to hold back a sneeze that swelled her chest and throat.

Barnacle reef-like irregular shadows dragged between the wooden legs of the tables and chairs, trembling with the flames as they lit up, passing through a bright area at hand.

She almost felt like she could feel the texture of the fungus and corpse on the shadow, and the stone slab bumps seemed to soften and puff as it passed, and the hard rock lines fluttered and trembled.

But it was only an illusion of light and shadow, and everything was as good as it had been after it.

It seems that it is better to scare children, at least the ghost can catch the child hiding under the bed, right? And they can neither penetrate walls nor see through.

She sprang up again, crawling under the table to the other end of the table. The corpse of a servant lay between her and the other table, head tilted to one side, pupils behind cloudy white eyes focused on non-existent focus, staring at the living who were still hiding.

On the face heavier than the powder of the warbler, there is a residue of horror and nostalgia for life that has been distorted by the color of the clown's painted powder. The open cavity of the mouth was covered with powder, as if trying to spit out some terrible last words, or silently question.

[I can't blame me]

Yvonne ignored the face and skipped over him and ducked under another table. It was close to the center of the dust outbreak, and the gauze had limited filtration, and with every step you could feel the dust rise from under your knees and between your palms and fingers, trying to mix in with your breath.

And the set of keys, just a few steps away on the dustiest ground, the original color of the object could not be seen. It's hard to imagine these things floating in the air, and they must make people feel like they are in the clouds.

Luckily, the table was partially blocked, allowing her to approach it lightly. This requires the slowest movement to prevent the large swath of the powder layer that seems to have a thickness.

The usually insignificant distance was tormentedly stretched here, and it took Yvonne a moment to climb to the closest point she could reach, to the keychain.

One of the wandering shells turned to the other side of the hall, and the other finally reached the corner hidden by the pillars.

She reached out from an angle where she could not touch the leg of the table as easily as possible, the chair with its three lengths and one short seemed unstable, but other angles were not within the reach of the short hand, and she was not able to move it.

In order to stretch his arms as long as possible, he had to lie down close to the ground, which brought the perspective to the same level as Wilbert's internal officer's body.

The body of the Internal Officer was already inseparable from the shell where the fungus lodged, and from this height it was possible to see how the white velvet had grown on the surface of contact with the skin.

At the approximate location of the skull, the plump crown of the fungus cracked and bloomed, releasing the dust and leaving only a dry shell with hard flesh that was still brightly colored, sticking to the Wilbert veneer.

Fresh, young, dense new bacteria grow from the dense patches of adhesion mesh, and are still multi-colored punctate germinations, scattered along the neck and arm span, until the fingers hooked to the keychain.

Yvonne tugged at the keychain, and the dead joints stiffened and staggered, nearly pulling along with the entire arm. She could only lower it a little more, reach farther, and break the fingers that were hooking the strings one by one.

She could feel the ends of her hair falling into the dust, and the itching of her nasopharynx was so thick that it tingled slightly, but she didn't stop to hesitate, the change in light and shadow showed that the prostitutes were moving, and they had to lift the keys evenly and steadily before they turned back.

All the attention was concentrated on the thin and calloused hands, and the keys were lifted off the ground with the string of rings, one by one. She wasn't sure if it had caused a slight stir, and if it did, it was muffled by the sound of blood vessels agitating in her ears.

Eventually, the small strand of metal hung in the air, carefully controlled around the leg barrier, and was retracted into the shadows.

[It's a little scary]

Common sense made her think she should think so, but in reality, fear was always moving slowly, fingers like they had their own thoughts, rummaging through the key to identify the target number engraved on it, and taking it off through the opening of the string ring.

The next step is to wait, waiting for the mushroom to grow bloated and cumbersome like a bloomer leg leg to walk by.

They also don't seem to have the habit of walking with their heads down, stepping on the corpse's outstretched palms, oblivious to what is happening under their feet, as if they were really just strolling, and pulling a tripstring can make them unable to stand up again.

It was confusing, but Yvonne knew that the way they moved, and the way they climbed on the cliff face, they would only be more agile than normal people.

Once she was found to have no chance of survival, she knew this very well, but she was not very afraid, more precisely, desensitization and numbness.

She had ever experienced the longest and most painful and empathetic death, at the end of which even the process itself was less important. I have also seen rapid and tragic deaths, blunt and sharp objects have been used in different ways to cause wounds of various shapes.

Her perception of death is concrete, and at the same time lacks a more abstract and profound concept.

When the same fate befell more people—and possibly even herself—she was not surprisingly not too touched, nor did she think about whether it was normal for her to do this, but just thought about it and did it. Kicked the guy who had nearly killed Koop until his head was smashed with a hammer, and then took the dagger out of his hand.

Now Yvonne was going to get another dagger.

She waited for them to go into the corner, came out from under the table, twisted the lock with the key, and floated into the room like a ghost, closing the door, her hand hidden in the folds of her skirt holding the wooden handle.

In his imagination, Brimmer should be in the room, performing some kind of witchcraft that summons the walking corpse, and is so restricted that he can't go out. If he can make a move, he has to find a way to confuse him for a while, relying on his identity to lower his vigilance.

When she did push the door open and entered, she saw a room that was not as dark as she had expected.

A black-robed figure fell to the ground on its back, bathed in a misty eerie red light. The intensity of the light is not as strong as that of a candle, and it is like replacing the tear film with dry rotten blood, which makes the eyeballs feel unusually dry and irritated, and they unconsciously want to turn their heads to avoid it.

However, as far as the eye can see, there is a constant light, and there is no way to avoid it. It came from a rudimentary pendant that fell out of the neckline of the black robe, and the stiff palm reached towards it before losing consciousness, a movement that solidified halfway, and the ominous plaque on the skin on the back of the hand was bathed in red light.