It was a room filled with magnificent gowns.

Aside from the wall where the door stood, the other three walls were lined entirely with wardrobes.

In the center of the room stood more than a dozen mannequins dressed in elaborate finery—towering wigs, voluminous puffed sleeves, and sweeping, floor-length skirts—as though a grand Elizabethan court banquet were being held right here in this room.

Zhu Shu opened one of the wardrobe doors, helped Bai Youwei inside first, then shut the door and squeezed herself beneath the skirts of one of the mannequins.

The formal court gowns of that era were extraordinarily lavish. Underneath them lay a layer of true silk velvet padding to support the hip silhouette, and the larger the hip pad, the greater the wealth it implied. Beneath the hip support sat an even wider skirt frame, and only over that frame came the actual outer gown.

Zhu Shu had barely settled beneath the skirt when she heard the floor rumbling with heavy footsteps from below.

The Duke had returned.

His footsteps were rapid and heavy, filled with fury—the moment his body had recovered, he’d charged straight up to the third floor, searching for them room by room.

Just as Bai Youwei had predicted, he skipped the first two rooms and began his search from the third.

The rooms deeper in the corridor were naturally more likely to be his suspected hiding spots.

Bai Youwei sat quietly in the wardrobe, but her heart was anything but still—it was as if she were being held over an open flame, roasting.

One moment she felt a brief rush of relief as the Duke moved farther away, and the next she was gripped by worry for Su Man and Yu Yaqing, whether they’d be found. Within that worry, three parts were the bond of people who’d faced life and death together, and the other seven parts were a deep, burning unwillingness to be beaten by this game.

She couldn’t understand—where had she gone wrong?

Based on her past experience with these games, killing the Duke should have been the way to clear it. Since the Duke was invincible at night, daytime was supposed to be their opportunity against Hua Jiang.

So why hadn’t it worked?

Hua Jiang hadn’t died!

Not only that—he had transformed into the Duke, bringing the night early. Now every one of them had become food on his plate.

Regret and remorse weren’t strong enough to describe what she felt right now. There was something more—deep, consuming doubt and confusion.

The Duke’s gnashing, grinding voice echoed through the corridor.

“My dear brides, where are you… Don’t you know, refusing to share dinner with me is something that will make me very, very angry?”

“Come out, come out… brides—I can already smell you. Like feral cats from a garbage heap, reeking and rank. Utterly nauseating.”

“Where are you?! Come out!!!”

“Liars! Liars!!! Greedy, stupid women! I’ll tear you to pieces!!!”

The roars and the heavy, hammering footsteps filled the entire manor, and even the floorboards trembled faintly with their owner’s fury.

Finding nothing on the third floor, the Duke stalked furiously down to the second, searched it, then moved on to the first.

As he moved away, that suffocating, imposing presence gradually faded into the distance.

Zhu Shu’s heart eased just the tiniest bit.

She crouched curled beneath the skirts, feet aching and numb, not daring to move so much as a muscle.

Just as she was wondering whether she dared stretch her legs, those footsteps suddenly grew closer again!

After searching the lower floors, the Duke seemed to suspect they hadn’t left the third floor after all—and he had come back!

The tension she’d just barely released snapped taut again in an instant. Zhu Shu held her breath.

*Thud. Thump-thump.*

The sound of something falling to the floor.

Zhu Shu’s heart nearly leapt out of her chest!

Why would something fall for no reason?! Had something happened on Bai Youwei’s side? That was terrible—that sound would draw the Duke straight here!

Sure enough, the pace of the approaching footsteps quickened!

Zhu Shu’s mind raced with anxiety, but there was nothing she could do. She carefully lifted the edge of the ruffled lace hem—like cake piping—just a fraction—

The wardrobe appeared undisturbed. But by the door, a corner of fabric whisked rapidly out of sight.

Zhu Shu went rigid.

She recognized that scrap of fabric.

It was Hu Ya…

A chill crept up from the depths of Zhu Shu’s chest. She hadn’t imagined it—the situation still unclear and uncertain, and yet Hu Ya was trying to harm them.

—