The word echoed through the garden. And this time? It wasn’t just the masks that reacted.

Every spectral attendant turned toward them at once. Conversations died and teacups paused halfway to their lips. Even the soft music drifting through the garden became warped, notes stretching into dissonance and no less than scratchy noise.

And before anyone could say anything...

Crack!

A sudden pressure dug into the sides of his face. His raven mask tightened, porcelain edges biting into his skin like fingers trying to pry into his flesh.

"Gah—!"

Around the garden, contestants screamed.

"My mask!"

"It’s digging in!"

"Get it off! Get it off!"

One man clawed at his pig mask hard enough to draw blood, but the mask didn’t move. If anything, it sank even deeper. Hana doubled over beside Deon, both hands pressed against her dove mask. "D-Deon!"

"Damn...it...!" he managed, turning to see the rest of his party in pain on the ground as well.

And just beside him, the shadowy visage of Rosaline rose up from her seat and spoke. "You are discourteous guests."

"One mistake may be forgiven," she whispered. "But repeated insult—"

The spectral attendants suddenly dropped what they were doing, reaching into their coats and producing thin knives, long forks, or whatever serving blades they had.

"—requires correction..."

[Etiquette Violation: Repeated Discourtesy.]

[The Attendants will now correct improper guests.]

Deon’s eyes widened. "Oh, come on."

The attendant right next to him moved. One second, he stood beside the pavilion stairs. The next, he was in front of the wolf-masked contestant who had prepared the bitter tea.

The contestant barely had time to raise his arms just as the attendant’s serving knife sliced.

"Gaghhhk!" he screamed as blood sprayed across the grass.

The wolf-masked man stumbled backward as a red line open across his forearm. But the inciting incident was enough to cause chaos upon the party.

Contestants scattered as spectral workers poured in from every side of the garden, no longer pretending to serve.

"Don’t try to kill them! Just stay alive!" Deon shouted.

An attendant lunged at him with a carving knife. Deon raised his blade just as metal clashed into each other, sending sparks flying between them.

The force behind the attack surprised him.

Tch...these things aren’t weak.

"Hana, stay behind me!"

"I know!"

Another attendant appeared at her side, teapot raised like a bludgeoning weapon. Hana flinched, but Vivian stepped in between them.

A second Vivian split from her body like a shadow peeling away, both versions moving at the same time.

One caught the attendant’s wrist and the other drove a knee into its stomach. The ghost folded, falling down the steps but almost immediately got back up again.

Vivian clicked her tongue. "Annoying. They’re sturdier than they look."

Across the garden, chaos erupted.

Contestants who had been arguing a minute ago were now forced to fight together. The spear user stabbed through an attendant’s shoulder, only for the ghost to keep moving and slash his arm open with a butter knife. Someone else threw a chair, which passed through one attendant’s head before the ghost reformed and kept walking.

"They’re spirits!" someone screamed. "Weapons don’t work!"

[Discourteous guests may not dismiss the staff.]

[Please correct your manners.]

Another scream cut across the garden as a contestant was dragged backward by two attendants, their white-gloved hands gripping his arms with terrifying strength.

The wolf-masked contestant was still scrambling away from the pavilion, clutching his bleeding arm. "Help me! Someone help me!"

"W–what should we do, Deon?!" Hana yelled from his side, trying to fend off another attendant holding a ceramic pot.

Damn it...think Deon! It’s only a matter of time before we all get wiped out! Shit shit...what’s the right course of action.

Only then did he manage to catch a glimpse of the answer. Lady Rosaline sat at the pavilion table again, calm and still even as the garden tore itself apart.

"One more attempt..." Deon muttered.

Hana stumbled beside him, breathing hard. "What?"

"We have to serve her the proper tea."

Vivian parried a butter knife with a stolen serving tray and glanced over. "Then you better start thinking faster, Little Day!"

Deon’s eyes moved across the garden once more.

Rose tea was wrong. Bitter tea was wrong. It’s not what she drank, but what was proper... But proper to what? Why doesn’t she like bitter tea?! Wasn’t that her whole philosophy?!

His eyes suddenly widened, remembering a single word that he had forgotten about this mansion:

Regret.

Lady Rosaline’s regret...

She was a trophy wife, someone who turned away from all her family’s problems and indulged herself in her own pleasure.

She was powerless, but that didn’t mean she had no regrets. No, she had plenty that just couldn’t be spelled out.

"But her biggest regret of all—"

"You can have mine. It’s not bitter anymore."

Elliot’s voice from the memory echoed in his head, causing the answer to snap in place like a missing puzzle piece.

"—Was not accepting his gift."

Hana stared at him, eyes wide behind her dove mask. "Gift?"

Deon’s gaze snapped toward the serving tables. "Tea with milk and sugar, preferably a lot of it!"

"What?! Why?! Isn’t that contradictory to all of the guests’ testimonies?!"

He shook his head. "It’s not because she likes it, but because Elliot made it for her."

An attendant lunged from the side. Deon raised [Trip] without even looking. The ghost’s foot caught on nothing, causing its entire body to fold forward and slam into the grass.

"She rejected it back then," Deon continued, "He tried to make her tea that wasn’t bitter anymore. Tea that could make sad people happier."

"And she threw it away."

Vivian swerved another dodged another stab from the butter knife. "Very touching! The practical part, please!"

Deon looked around, managing to catch two attendants. One had a jar of sugar in its hand while the other held a small pitcher of milk.

"Let’s split up!" he yelled. "Hana, you get a tea. Any kind is fine! And Vivian, you need to take that pitcher of milk!"

"And you?"

"I’m gonna get that sugar—"

"And put so much inside that she won’t be able to deny it any longer."