There's definitely something wrong with this murder mystery game

The clock struck midnight, ticking away the seconds.

The chef had prepared an exquisite meal, the master was enjoying a romantic candlelight dinner, and the servants were polishing vases in the mansion.

The melodious sound of a piano sang in the darkness, while in the attic, the pitter-patter of footsteps interwove with a requiem, dancing freely in this silent world.

The blind girl, watching over everything, let out a mournful sigh in the darkness.

[The Scripted Murder Game "Abyss Sigh" is about to begin. Please prepare yourselves, players.]

[Main task: Find the ghost hidden within the story. (Submission-based)]

...

Xu Shuo opened his eyes only to find that his vision was still shrouded in darkness, so dark that he couldn't see his own hand in front of him.

Even when he placed his hand in front of his eyes, he couldn't see it at all.

For a moment, he thought he was still in that preparation space before entering the script, but then he touched his own face.

In that space, he couldn't touch anything.

Xu Shuo summoned the Player's Handbook straightforwardly, and finally a source of light appeared in the pitch-black vision, the personal information column revealing the character he was to portray this time.

Character: Blind girl.

Task: Find the ghost hidden within the story. (Submission-based)

Submission-based?

It was Xu Shuo's first encounter with a submission-based task in a game, but he had learned in the Script Space that in this kind of game, players have a collective task and choose a suspect to submit to the system on their own.

The first one to solve the case would get the highest reward.

But the character information this time was too sparse, wasn't it?

Why was there just a name and a task?

No identity information at all!

He seemed to be sitting in a chair at the moment, Xu Shuo reached out to the side and touched something round, and judging from its thickness and length, it should be a cane.

Or maybe, a guide cane?

At that moment, he heard sporadic sounds coming from beside him, and he could even simulate the shape of sound waves after they collided in his mind.

To his right, a hand was holding a pen, the tip touching something on the table, making a light "tap" sound.

Following that, more and more sounds began to emerge: the grating noise of chair legs scraping across the floor, the soft thud of leather shoes hitting the ground, and a voice uttering a confused inquiry.

These sounds seemed to ripple through the darkness, clear as ripples on water.

Had his hearing become stronger?

However, it was said that people who are blind usually have other senses that are very sensitive, and those with exceptional gifts could even have frighteningly keen senses.

Like the character Xu Shuo was now embodying, he could analyze every syllable he heard, using the spread of sound waves to simulate a similar picture in his mind.

It was a very nice skill.

...

"Isn't the light on?"

Just then, someone said loudly, followed by the sound of chairs moving and footsteps.

Before long, with a "click," the lights turned on.

The ornate crystal chandelier on the ceiling cast light, instantly brightening the interior as several people seated around a long table squinted slightly amid the unexpected brightness.

The man who turned on the light looked around at everyone, his gaze lingering slightly on the girl seated two seats down from the head of the table.

While others either squinted to adjust to the brightness or shielded their eyes from the light with a raised hand, only she remained unmoved, holding a black cane in her hand, her gaze empty and unfocused.

She can't see?

The man was slightly surprised, raised an eyebrow, and then sat back down in his original seat, which was directly opposite the girl.

The girl had double braided pigtails, a delicate and lovely face, and her skin had a slightly pale, glassy, and fragile quality to it.

Her vacant black eyes only heightened her sense of vulnerability.

There were seven people seated around the long table, three on the left side, three on the right, and at the head of the table sat a middle-aged man in a suit and leather shoes, who looked cultured and refined.

"I opened my eyes and found myself here, what happened, and who are you?" asked the woman sitting at the first seat on the left, frowning.

She was dressed in a white chiffon blouse, with her hair pinned back with a butterfly clip, and she had a delicate red musical note brooch on her chest, twirling a pen in her hand.

"I can't remember anything, what place is this?" the man who had turned on the light looked at everyone else.

"Not sure, my mind's a complete blank too," said the man wearing a chef's outfit across the table, shaking his head.

"Ah~ So everyone's amnesiac?" said the girl in a tight red dress at the end of the long table, propping up her chin and speaking in a somewhat frivolous tone.

Xu Shuo kept his head down silently, being the quiet handsome man, and quietly listened to this group perform their play.

This time's script probably only afforded everyone a name and a mission, what they could bring to life was entirely up to them.

Moreover, it was not certain whether everyone here was a player, nor whether there might be NPCs mixed in.

More importantly, among these seven people, one was a specter!

...

After someone started the conversation, a few of them began to discuss their current situation, and the only information they could access was the props beside them.

The man in the suit at the head of the table might be the owner of the villa, with a stack of exquisite strawberry pastries on the table in front of him.

He claimed to be a lawyer according to his own words.

The woman holding the pen declared herself to be a writer.

On the table in front of her, there were several sheets of bound manuscript paper with half-written stories that tended towards urban romance.

The man sitting opposite her was plump and had a smile like a Maitreya Buddha, seemingly the villa's chef, with traces of strawberry jam on his chef's attire.

Next to the chef, wearing a black tailcoat and sporting shoulder-length parted hair, was a man.

He was the one who had gone to turn on the light.

The man seemed to emanate a melancholic artistic aura; his identity was a pianist, and he was holding a piece of sheet music in his hand.

A pianist?

Upon hearing this identity, the young man sitting at the end of the right side instinctively glanced at the female writer, the red musical note brooch on her blouse glistening elegantly under the light.

He professed to be a servant, currently dressed in a dark red vest ensemble and holding a damp cloth—that he seemed to have been using to clean with moments before.

The manservant withdrew his gaze from the writer, and after setting the cloth down, his hand naturally brushed against something in his trouser pocket.

He paused so subtly it was almost imperceptible, feeling the outlines of the object in his pocket and determining it was a gun.

Moreover, it felt more slender and delicate than a standard pistol, reminiscent of a revolver.

Then, the manservant crossed his legs nonchalantly, using the tilted posture to subtly conceal the outline in his trouser pocket.

At this moment, the girl in the red dress sitting at the end of the right side leaned on her hand, her smile abounding as she spoke, "It seems I'm a dancer, maybe I'm here for a ball?"

As she said this, her gaze landed on the young girl with braided pigtails above her, her eyes filled with fascination.

"This little sister, seems like she can't see?"