The Haunted Cinema

"The decor here seems to have a hint of ancient style."

After selecting his room and gathering his toiletries to take a shower, Ivan was about to leave when he suddenly spotted Hank, leaning against the wall at the other end of the hallway. Hank spoke to him in this manner.

"Ancient style, you say... I suppose, to some extent," Hank replied, still lost in thought. He looked up at Ivan and asked, "It seems the others are downstairs playing cards. Aren't you going to join them?"

Hank shook his head. "With the amount of money we're getting, how can I bring myself to just sit and play? It's better to do something productive, like tidying up. By the way, I happened to notice something earlier—the furniture here seems to be antique. A lot of it's hard to come by these days."

"You know something about antiques?"

"Not much, just enough to recognize them. Everyone's excited because we're making so much money just cooking for three days. But the more I think about it, the more it feels off."

"True. Honestly, we could've just hired a maid to do this job. Ten thousand a day? No one would be that extravagant with their money. But, even so, we've already received a five-thousand deposit. We can't back out now, even if we have doubts."

Hank turned his face slightly toward Ivan, his expression becoming serious. "There's more. I've observed something else—there isn't a single photograph in this house. And not only are there no windows, it seems there's no ventilation system either. The layout of the house is strange, too. It doesn't match modern architectural styles at all. Especially the basement—its design looks more like an air raid shelter from wartime."

Ivan sniffed, a frown forming on his face. "Do you think... they've set us up for something?"

"Not necessarily a conspiracy, but I'm sure of one thing... The patient we're meant to look after is far from ordinary. We may just be part of some experiment…"

"Experiment?"

"I hope I'm just overthinking it…"

Meanwhile, downstairs...

Allen was holding a deck of cards, "cheerfully" playing a game of Dou Di Zhu with the group in front of him. At that moment, Cheryl was the landlord, while Allen and the short man, Wu Jun, were playing with her.

"Oh dear…" Cheryl giggled as she fiddled with her cards, her smile wide. "Hey, hey, hey, I'm curious—what do you all plan to do with your three hundred thousand?"

Allen placed a pair of cards down on the table and said, "Hmm... I'll probably deposit it in the bank. Interest rates have been going up lately. Besides, I don't really have any urgent expenses at the moment."

Wu Jun, who had been studying his cards, finally looked up after a moment. "Deposit it in the bank? Three hundred thousand?! I need to really think about how to spend it. But still, it's hard to believe, earning that much so easily."

Beside them, Liu Ying, the girl with twin pigtails, watched them with flashing eyes. She didn't speak yet, but the fear and unease were silently pressing on her heart. Next to her, Zhao Xiaoya bit her thumb nail, deep in thought.

Just at that moment...

Hank walked down the corridor on the first floor, heading toward the basement entrance.

At that moment, Hank's expression remained remarkably composed. The severed finger was securely tucked away in his pocket, his hands now resting there, ready to retrieve it at a moment's notice should anything go awry.

Tomorrow was the premiere of Ghost Festival 3. This severed finger would prove to be a crucial lifeline—he could not afford to lose it during the filming of The Locked Room.

The Locked Room...

The basement was indeed constructed with the unmistakable feel of an air raid shelter. It was stocked with abundant food, all sealed in ceramic jars, with a conspicuous amount of salt sprinkled over them to preserve their freshness. Several rooms lay hidden within the basement, and soon, Hank found the one directly beneath the kitchen...

It was a simple door. Exactly like the one on the movie poster.

A thin, unremarkable door, and behind it, the so-called "patient" they were to care for. Yet Hank was convinced that no patient resided here!

"This is the one…" Hank murmured, inching closer to the door.

It was a meticulously crafted metal door, with an antique lock that seemed centuries old. Although Hank was no expert, it was clear to him that without the proper key, unlocking this antique lock would be no easy feat. At the very least, a common thief would stand no chance of forcing it open.

Would a mere psychiatric patient require such a heavy-duty lock?

Moreover, even if the lock were not so formidable, the master had explicitly instructed them to never release the person inside! On the one hand, it seemed impossible to open the door without the key, but on the other, the master had insisted on this point twice!

The more Hank thought about it, the more he became certain—the three hundred thousand had been paid to ensure that they would not open the lock!

The door lacked a keyhole, and the gap between the door and the floor was negligible—barely perceptible. Furthermore, the service elevator could not possibly reach this level. Hank gently touched the door, beginning to assess what type of metal it was made from, ultimately concluding that it was likely some form of alloy.

Trying to forcibly break the door down was out of the question.

Hank slowly stepped back from the door, muttering to himself, "What is really behind that door?"

The night deepened.

They had been playing Dou Di Zhu for several rounds. And at this moment...

"Has the phone lost signal?"

"Yeah, I just noticed it while checking my phone. It's strange. I had signal when I was outside earlier."

At that point, the short man, Wu Jun, looked at his phone and said, "I'll go outside and check!"

Moments later…

"What's going on?" Wu Jun came running back from the front door, his face filled with shock. "The door's locked! This villa has no windows, and this is the only door that allows entry or exit. Does that mean we're stuck here for the next three days? And why is there no phone signal?"

Ivan furrowed his brow, snapping his fingers. "It must have been arranged by the master! Think about it—the villa has no windows, and now there's no signal. The walls of this place must have some kind of electromagnetic interference that absorbs signals! And now the door's locked…"

"What is this madness?" Cheryl exclaimed, clearly frustrated. "Even with such a high daily wage, this restriction of our freedom is just… too much."

At that moment, Hank walked into the living room.

"What's going on?"

"Mr. Liu!" Wu Jun snapped angrily. "Come see for yourself! The door's locked! This must be the master's doing, right?"

Hank was immediately taken aback, his face turning grim as he quickly followed, with Allen, Ivan, and the others trailing close behind.

At the front door stood a sturdy metal door, its lock equally intricate. The door was securely locked, and no one could escape through it!

With a dark expression, Hank turned back and said, "Let's go... everyone back to the living room. I'm beginning to regret coming here to work."

Hank then shared his observations from the basement.

"I believe I've figured it out. The reason for the extraordinarily high wages is because we are tasked with guarding this 'prisoner'! There's no way this could be a mere psychiatric patient—no one would use such a formidable lock and alloy door to contain them, and they certainly wouldn't go to such lengths to prevent us from releasing them!"

The group exchanged uncertain glances.

Ivan was the first to speak: "I don't understand. A 'prisoner'? Is the master engaging in illegal imprisonment? Shouldn't we be calling the police?"

"This villa has no phone," Hank gestured around them, "and there's no signal on our phones. The master has deliberately trapped us here. He wants us to guard this 'prisoner' for three days. Perhaps they intend to use us for some undisclosed purpose. The person locked in that basement, I suspect, is no ordinary prisoner."

The room fell silent, each person visibly unsettled by Hank's words.

"I... I want to leave!" Wu Jun shouted, panic evident in his voice. "I can't stay here! I need to leave!"

Hank continued, his tone serious: "Listen, everyone... leaving is no longer an option. The walls of this villa aren't made of ordinary cement; they're reinforced with steel, and the thickness of the walls suggests they're built to contain something... or someone. I originally intended to meet the master and ask why such a high-paying job was offered, but I never expected things to turn out like this. Honestly, I regretted submitting my resume from the start. It seemed too good to be true."

He paused for a deep breath before proceeding, "Now that we're in this situation, we must do as the master instructed. Let's continue to deliver meals to the 'prisoner.' I believe they have an ulterior motive, and the only way to understand their purpose is by following their orders. Three days will pass quickly, and then… we'll see where things go from there."

"We have no choice," Ivan sighed deeply. "I knew there's no such thing as an easy windfall."

The group all sighed in agreement, Allen among them.

Later that night, everyone retired to their respective rooms to sleep.

Allen, however, stayed alone in his room. Though Hank had suggested they share a room, Allen felt that having them both in the same space would be awkward, considering they had only just met. Furthermore, his life was already precarious enough; there was no need to jeopardize it further for such a trivial reason. He carried the Soul-Calling Charm with him, providing him with a measure of protection.

As for Ivan and Cheryl, they too relied on their cursed items, their anxiety palpable as they awaited the conclusion of the first act. The next phase of the story was about to unfold, but none of them could predict how this terrifying film would develop.

What unsettled them all the most, however, was the question of what exactly lay behind the Locked Room. And who, exactly, was the master? Why had they summoned so many people to guard this mysterious 'prisoner'?

Midnight soon arrived.

The clock struck twelve, and with it came the turning point. The date had shifted to July 1st, marking the end of Act One of The Locked Room.

The script for Act Two, with the toll of the midnight bell, entered each person's mind...