The woman who had served the tea took a nervous step back. "I-I don’t understand. The flowers were red, weren’t they? The hint said—"

But that was when grunts and screams of pain resounded throughout the Garden at once. Deon felt the straps of his mask tighten around his face as the pain caused him to drop to his knees.

"Gghhk—!"

His hand shot up immediately, clawing at the black masquerade mask on his face. The edges pressed against his skin, not enough to draw blood, but enough to cause pain all the same.

Deon barely managed to turn and look at the rest of the garden. A man near a patch of roses clawed at the sides of his mask while another wrapped both hands around the back of his head, trying to yank the straps loose, but to no avail.

The contestant who had served the tea stumbled backward, both hands pressed to her face. "No, no, no, I didn’t—! I didn’t know!"

Hana grabbed at her own mask, eyes wide with fear. "Deon..."

"Don’t pull too hard," Deon said quickly, though his own fingers were already testing the edges of his mask. "Seems like a group punishment."

He managed to turn his eyes toward the Lady again, who was now sitting upright in her seat. The mess that she had created earlier vanished, resetting to its original spot like nothing had ever happened.

Lady Rosaline waited patiently once more.

Once the squeezing subsided and the contestants gradually adjusted to the new discomfort, blame began flying back and forth immediately.

"You did this to us!"

"I-I didn’t know!" the owl-masked woman screamed. "I thought red flowers meant rose tea! Everyone thought that!"

"Don’t drag us into this!"

"You served it!"

"You made the guess!"

Another contestant shoved forward, voice trembling with fear. "She should be punished!"

"Punished? What’s that supposed to mean?"

"I don’t know, just kill her to get another clue! What if she makes another mistake that gets us killed instead?!"

The moment the idea floated into the air, bloodlust seemed to emanate from what used to be a peaceful garden. The owl-masked woman slowly turned her head toward the person who spoke. "You...want to kill me?"

The man who had said it flinched, as if even he hadn’t expected his own thought to sound so ugly once spoken aloud.

"Yeah!" the man shouted, doubling down. "I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking!"

"That’s insane!" Hana shouted before things could spill over the point of no return. "She made a mistake, yes. But that doesn’t mean you should kill her for it—"

"That’s easy for you to say!" another woman chimed in, cutting her off. "You’re with Deon Day!"

Hana froze at the accusation.

"Of course you don’t care if the rest of us die," the woman continued, voice rising. "You’ve got first place protecting you! What did you do, cry pretty enough for him to keep you around?"

"Hah!" she laughed out loud. "Maybe we should all start clinging to him, too!"

"Th–that’s not..." Hana started.

But before she could finish her sentence, Vivian had appeared next to the woman’s side.

"That’s a lot to say for trash?"

CRASH!

Instantly, the woman’s body folded as she left the ground completely. Vivian had delivered a kick straight into her stomach, causing her to fly backward and slam into the base of a white rose arch.

Several contestants screamed at the action, pulling out their Cards to protect themselves.

Why the hell would she do that? Doesn’t she know that she’s still one of the prime suspects for the previous murder?

Just a single twitchy movement would be enough to cause an all-out war. But Vivian ignored it all, simply dusting off her jacket before turning to look at the crowd.

"Let’s not say disgusting things and keep things civil, yeah?"

Once no answer came, she simply decided that it was enough and moved on. "Since everyone has clearly proven they’re too scared or stupid..."

"Maybe you should listen to First Place."

Almost every pair of eyes in the garden turned to face Deon, holding a mix of awe and doubt at the same time.

"..."

Curse you, Vivian Queen. Why do you always have to make things so complicated for me?!

Deon sighed softly. Even with the chat window closed, he could practically hear them laughing.

He decided to ignore the eyes on him right now and focus his own on the ongoing event.

Think Deon...how would a typical escape room function...and how are we able to determine her favorite tea...

He scanned the garden, eyes finally catching onto the spectral guests that were conversing amongst themselves.

To solve an escape room, one has to use context clues scattered throughout...that was the whole basis. And without any notes or objects around...the only other clues are—

Deon stepped forward, causing several contestants to tense, and approached one of the guests. He stopped a few steps away from the nearest table.

At first, he had planned to simply be blunt and ask the question directly. But upon realizing how much dedication and effort the mansion had put in dressing them up with masks and making sure they fit in...

He decided otherwise.

Deon approached the noble phantom. Upon her noticing him, he dipped down slightly, mimicking the action he’d seen from the protagonists of fantasy dramas he’d watched.

"Excuse me. I’m new to all of this and would really like to make a good impression on the Lady of the house."

Behind him, several contestants gasped as they finally understood what he was doing. Deon ignored the commotion, keeping his expression pleasant even as the mask dug into his face.

"Would you happen to know what her favorite type of tea is?"

"Oh my," the ghost said. "A new guest hoping to impress Lady Rosaline?"

Her voice was gentle and elegant, the kind of voice that would’ve made someone straighten their posture without realizing it.

The two other phantoms seated beside her turned toward Deon as well. One was a thin man in a wine-colored coat while the other was a younger woman dressed in green.

"Yes," Deon said, trying to keep a straight face. "I would hate to offend the Lady by serving something improper." 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

The noblewoman finally tilted her head toward the pavilion. "If it’s Lady Rosaline’s favorite you wish to know, then surely the answer is obvious?"

"Is it?" he asked.

"Roses, of course."

The noblewoman said it so smoothly that it almost felt scripted, and perhaps...it was.

"Lady Rosaline adored roses above all else. Red roses for passion, white roses for purity, pink roses for grace. Every gathering she hosted carried their fragrance. Every table was adorned with them."

She gestured toward the garden around them. "Why, this very garden is proof of her love."

"Roses, huh..."

Deon looked back toward the owl-masked woman, then toward Lady Rosaline waiting patiently beneath the pavilion.

If roses were the obvious answer, then why had the first cup been rejected?

"This might not be as easy as I thought..."