Eldritch Horror Theatre

The person sprawled in the dust, their head covered and face hidden, was a real corpse.

As someone with plenty of blood on his hands, reverting to an ordinary mortal didn't stop Fu Qian from easily making this judgment.

The death was recent; the body was still soft.

Even though the prone posture hid the face, the jacket covering his head was draped at a clever angle. It left the mouth and nose relatively unobstructed, as if intentionally leaving room for him to breathe.

It looked incredibly like the first possibility—that everything was just a prank aimed at someone with chuunibyou.

Except the person was actually dead.

That raised the question: how did this person die?

Butters had offered a story to explain it: the party was going great, he'd had too much to drink, and he got into a scuffle. The other guy got unlucky, hit his head, and died instantly.

It was a fairly reasonable sequence of events. The jacket and the pool of blood beneath the corpse also helped visualize the incident—before they were proven fake.

If Butters had told the truth, and this wasn't a prank but a genuine accident where he panicked and called Fu Qian to help clean up the mess, what was the point of drawing a snake with feet by staging this?

Since the guy was already dead, why not practice turning waste into treasure and use fake bloody clothes to fool him, just to fit the party's theme?

This went far beyond what could be brushed off as someone just seeking thrills; it was dark enough to be classified as a hellish joke.

As his thoughts raced, still no sound came from upstairs. Fu Qian quietly switched his Lighting Equipment to his other hand and pulled back the jacket covering the corpse's head.

It was dripping with "blood," but there was no wound.

...

Beneath the jacket was another young face. Brown curly hair puffed out in a messy ball, and his facial features seemed a bit small for his build, but he certainly looked like the sort of person who belonged at this kind of party.

It was incredibly easy for Fu Qian to tell that there were no open wounds hidden beneath that head full of "blood."

The chances of the fight story being true had just plummeted.

And if Butters had lied and no fight had occurred, then these fabricated traces weren't entirely inexplicable.

For instance, it could genuinely be a prank, and Butters simply didn't realize the "extra" lying on the ground had actually died.

That would mean he died sometime between lying down on the floor and Fu Qian being called over.

Though, if that were the case, there were far too many possible causes of death.

A heart attack? Poisoning?

Perhaps even the influence of Transcendent Tier powers?

And Butters was just acting the fool while being used?

In any case, setting aside how a group of young people got tangled up in a murder case, there was a far more pressing, personal question: why had he been called here?

They couldn't seriously be relying on Mister Wolf's legendary calm and wisdom, hoping he'd help them clean up the mess—could they? Hmm?

As he silently pondered this, Fu Qian suddenly realized he could no longer see the dead man's face. The source of light in the darkness was no longer in his hand; instead, it was rapidly approaching from a distance.

Even his own body seemed to be moving.

"Are we there yet?"

In an instant, that blinding cluster of light was right in front of his eyes. At the exact same time, a voice abruptly rang out from behind him.

...

He wasn't in a hurry to look back. For one thing, his vision still needed a moment to recover from the blinding light. For another, Fu Qian shifted slightly and felt the stiff, worn-out seat beneath him.

He was right. It was the exact same car he had driven earlier.

Through a bizarre yet seamless transition, he had already left the basement and was now sitting in the passenger seat of a moving car.

[Containment Fulfillment Conditions: Correctly complete the entire All Fools' Day script.]

Just as he reached this conclusion, another familiar voice simultaneously echoed in his mind. Interesting. This All Fools' Day is far from simple, it seems.

Just as things were getting bizarre, there was an abrupt scene transition.

And the subsequent Containment Conditions were rather unique.

Complete the entire script?

His immediate reaction to this condition was that this transition wouldn't be the last; there would likely be more seamless scene shifts to come.

But what did "correctly complete" mean?

Did he need to find key items to push the transition forward? Or did he have to perform specific, correct actions within the script?

"We're almost there. Can't you be quiet for a second?"

Just as Fu Qian was analyzing the situation, a voice from the driver's seat offered a stiff reply to the person in the back. The speaker sounded impatient, yet tense.

Aside from that intriguing mix of emotions, the voice had one distinct characteristic: it belonged to Butters.

He was right. Now that his vision had gradually recovered, Fu Qian could clearly see the mop of blond hair beside him, confirming his suspicion.

Compared to his appearance at the party, Butters's current outfit was significantly more low-key. He wore a gray jacket, and his eyes were sharp and alert.

However, rather than focusing on the road ahead, his gaze seemed locked onto the side of the road.

...

Although it was still night, it wasn't necessarily the same night.

The brown leather-strapped watch was still on his wrist. Fu Qian discreetly checked it; it was just past seven in the evening.

He wasn't sure when the party had started, but being out here at this hour meant there likely wouldn't be enough time to go back, change clothes, and get completely wasted.

Moreover, the weather looked considerably better. There was no sign of snow, and a half-moon hung clearly in the sky.

"Quiet? You were the one who said it wasn't far. That's the only reason Wolf and I agreed to come out with you in the middle of the night."

Butters's response clearly left the guy in the backseat very displeased.

His voice steadily rising, the man simply shoved his head between the two front seats.

He had a wedge-shaped face—wide at the top and narrow at the chin—and an extremely short buzz cut. He wasn't even wearing a hat in this near-freezing weather. Paired with a set of stubborn, unyielding eyebrows, the man practically had "Ruthless Guy" written across his face.

Except, right now, this Ruthless Guy was incredibly unhappy about going for a late-night drive, even going so far as to drag Wolf into the argument.

"Well, Wolf isn't sitting here grumbling and complaining non-stop like you are."

Unfortunately for him, the two were clearly quite close. Butters didn't indulge him at all, similarly using Mister Wolf as a shield to fire back.

...

Glancing in Fu Qian's direction, the Ruthless Guy was clearly at a loss for words, further proving that Mister Wolf had indeed been calm and rational this entire ride.

To play along, Fu Qian maintained his posture and stayed silent. A moment later, he glanced out the window and gave Brother Ruthless's clothes a tug.

Screech—

The car didn't follow the main road into the turn. Instead, it swerved directly down a narrow dirt path, slamming to a halt in front of a pitch-black house.

Thanks to Fu Qian's pull, the Ruthless Guy—who clearly hadn't been following proper passenger safety protocols—managed to avoid smashing his head during the violent bump.

"We're here. That's the house."

Recovering his wits, Brother Ruthless slapped the back of the driver's seat hard. Before he could unleash a proper outburst, Butters jutted his chin toward a corner of the building.

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