"Well, now that almost all the participants are here..." the ferryman sighed theatrically, as if closing the final page of a book. "Allow me to take my leave."
"Wait," Hov's voice at that moment resembled not a question, but a knife. "What did you just say? 'Almost all'? What other participants? Am I... not alone here?"
"Uh-hah-ghah-hah-gh..." he laughed, as if laughter were his native language and everything else just a dialect.
"Stop it, you bastard!" Hov snapped, his fist clenching on its own, fingers finding the ferryman's collar as if they'd been searching for it since the boat. "I put up with you for 12 goddamn hours! On that fucking boat! And if you let out that idiotic laugh of yours one more time, I'll drown you in the imaginary ocean."
The ferryman smiled. Or smirked. Or bared his teeth — hard to say.
"You still haven't grasped what game you've been dragged into, have you, pitiful mortal?" his voice suddenly turned icy. "I never, never, you hear me, told you that you were the only guest. Before you, I managed to bring three others. Three, Hov."
"Answer me. What the hell is going on here? What game?"
"Yes, yes, only..." he twitched, squinting slightly as if from pain in his neck. "Be so kind as to let go. Truth be told, I'm astonished by your... how should I put it... intellectual transparency. I offered you several times to ask questions. And what did I get in response? Your heroic silence."
"Only now, unfortunately for you, I can no longer explain anything. There's no time. However, you'll find the answers yourself. If, of course, you survive."
"So you're leaving? I thought you were part of this whole circus act."
"Me?" he feigned surprise, as if Hov had suggested they play chess naked. "No, no, I'm just a ferryman. Nothing more. My duty is to deliver, like a courier. Only instead of packages, people. And instead of a schedule, chaos."
"Good to know you're at least honest about how useless you are."
"Ah, Hov," the ferryman closed his eyes, folded his hands as if in prayer. "I'm touched. Your contempt, like a slap from fate. By the way, will you miss my voice?"
"I'll be glad not to hear it anymore."
"Agh... it hurts to hear that after 12 hours together... we were almost like a couple in honeymoon hell..."
But Hov didn't answer. He simply turned and, without looking back, headed toward the forest, thick as an unfinished sentence.
"Farewell then, demon of darkness who came to this island seeking truth..." the ferryman's parting words followed, and in his voice there was almost sincerity.
A shiver ran through Hov's body. The wind picked up. Leaves danced like madmen, without music.
"Wind's picking up. Looks like this night... won't be particularly peaceful. To hell with it," he quickened his pace.
The ferryman said the castle's through the forest. Straight ahead. No turns. Turn — die. Clear.
"Strange..." he stopped, clenched his palms. "Not a drop of power. Empty. No magic, no response. So that's how the system works here. Rules."
"And screw it. The main thing is answers."
He walked again, despite the wind.
Exactly one year ago, my wife. The last weeks of pregnancy, everything was fine. The doctors assured us, everything would be normal. Everything would be normal... They lied. Nothing was normal, labor lasted eight hours. She didn't survive. I wasn't with her, didn't hold her hand. Didn't say "thank you."
Tears rolled on their own, as if they knew the way. He wiped them away. Calmed down. And walked on.
The game is about to begin.
The mansion turned out bigger than he'd imagined. Massive, like a memory that won't let go.
Probably important people lived here. Or... no. This is an illusion. A ghost. Who in their right mind would live on an island that doesn't exist?
"Wind's picking up... need to get inside before the rain starts," he told himself, as if someone were listening.
Inside, in the guest hall, the other three were already sitting. Silence. So dense you could sit on it.
"I-I can't believe..." one finally exhaled. "W-what the hell..."
"Is it just me, or did that psycho slip something into my water before I got here?"
"Calm down," the second spoke. "Nobody gave you anything. Everything you're seeing is real. As much as you might not want to believe it."
Hov froze.
"Y-Yahweh... is that you? But... you died! You died back then! How is this even possible?! And... Creator?! What's he doing here?! We destroyed him! And... this girl. I've never seen her. What the hell?"
"This isn't an illusion," Creator said calmly. "The girl's a participant too. Just a new one."
"Yes... we died," Yahweh confirmed in the voice of someone whose life was taken but not their memory. "And now... we're alive. Here. Don't ask how."
"Have a drink. Rest. There's even champagne, they say the chef went all out," he added, as if everything happening was a dinner party and not a cursed resurrection.
"Chef? So... there are other people?"
"Not quite. Servants. Three of them. They're not players. Just... service links in this game."
Hov lowered himself into an armchair. His body was tired even before his mind.
"You're probably exhausted," Yahweh said. "We were in shock too. But rest helps."
"How can you speak so calmly?! You were dead! Now you're... not dead! And we're on a ghost island where there isn't even time!"
"Because..." Enua began calmly, as if explaining how to fry potatoes. "We've already been briefed. The game won't start until the last participant arrives."
Silence. Deep as the void outside the box.
"Fine," Hov muttered. "I'll look around."
At that moment, two people entered the hall. Servants. A young girl with chestnut hair and... a brother?
"Welcome. You're... the fourth participant, correct?" she asked politely.
"Y-yes. Hov."
"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Morgana. This is my... um... brother."
"Don't call me brother in front of guests!" the guy hissed, clearly panicked.
"I'm Cheryl. Servant of this mansion," he exhaled with practiced submissiveness.
"No need for titles. Just Hov."
"Alas. We have no right to address you that way. We are instruments," Morgana said. Without irony. Serious.
"Follow us. We'll show you everything you need."
And the tour began.
"Is this... a mansion? Or... a castle?"
"Built by the island's owner for his wife. Out of love. To the point of madness."
"Wait... if the island doesn't exist, and the box is just a temporary phenomenon, then the mansion shouldn't exist either."
"Correct. It exists... and doesn't exist. Like a cat in a box, only more tragic. After the game, everything disappears."
"But then... inside the box is empty too?"
"Almost. But not for you. For you, this is reality. For everyone else, nothing."
"Alright... then the participants. I saw dead people. How?"
"It's part of the game," Morgana said. "The island's mistress resurrects the dead. All participants."
"Mistress? Where does she get such power?"
"The island owner's wife. He created this castle for her. He was obsessed. Madly."
"And sealed her away? His own wife?"
"Exactly," Cheryl whispered. "Out of love."
He continued in the voice of someone paid not in money but in fear:
"They lived happily. Until she wanted to leave the island. He was afraid, forbade it. She begged, he went mad. Found grimoires, learned magic, but then... sealed her by force. Forever. She died... in those chains."
Silence.
Heavy.
Living.
"I-I'm sorry... he shouldn't have..." Morgana bowed.
"No... it's fine... just..." Hov closed his eyes. "Just too much for one evening."
"She resurrects too," Morgana reminded. "Every time. Before the game."
After that, they showed him the rooms. Bedrooms, shower, toilet, kitchen. Everything like a normal place. But nothing was normal.
"There's a phone in your room. Call if you need anything. We're available from 5 to 21. After that, we rest."
"Meals three times a day. Or more, if needed. The chef works without sleep," Cheryl added, and both vanished.
The mansion, I think, is clear. But... the story... strange. And how do they know everything? The ferryman's clearly not some ancient guardian... Whatever. That's not important now. The main thing is to wait for the last participant.
Four people.
Waiting.
The game is about to begin!