Lin Yu had no reason to refuse Xia Yue’s request.

Thus, the first pair was formed:

• Group 1: "Detective" Lin Yu & "Veterinarian" Xia Yue

• Group 2: "Hooligan" Bao Liu & "Thief" Yao Zhengye

• Group 3: "Otaku" Chen Zhuo & "Teacher" Xu Xiumei

• Group 4: "Soldier" Yu Longguo (solo)

After claiming their tasks, the groups dispersed swiftly—time was bleeding away.

Lin Yu and Xia Yue hurried down the corridor, its opulent decay unchanged: wrought-iron candelabras adorned with wolf heads, frayed crimson carpets threaded with gold. Through cracked windows, stone battlements confirmed this was indeed a castle.

The engineering room was easy to find—a metal-plaqued door beside the second-floor staircase, its shrill alarm unmistakable.

"We’re early," Xia Yue murmured, turning the handle.

Inside, an antique generator chugged along, halogen tubes glowing across its surface. One tube pulsed red, screeching like a dying bird.

Xia Yue bit her lip. "How do we even fix this? No tutorial?!"

Lin Yu wasn’t worried.

"Estimated time: ten minutes. Meaning it’s minor." His eyes landed on a toolbox atop a cabinet—and the manual beneath it.

He flipped open the grease-stained booklet:

"Wolf-III Generator Manual."

"Bingo."

Lin Yu flicked the manual with a confident smirk.

Xia Yue exhaled in relief, admiration flashing in her eyes. "Even without your ability, you're sharp. No wonder you're a detective in real life."

Lin Yu shrugged noncommittally and flipped open the booklet.

"Three indicator lights... Red means insufficient lubrication. Oil's stored in the first-floor storage room."

The solution was as straightforward as he'd hoped.

"I'll fetch it," Xia Yue offered. "I saw that room on the way here."

Lin Yu's expression cooled. "Splitting defeats the purpose of pairing up."

Xia Yue tilted her head playfully. "But time's tight. Stay and study the machine—what if we get the oil but don't know where to pour it?"

"And don't worry about me. This life's already borrowed anyway."

Her tone was light, almost teasing.

After a beat, Lin Yu nodded. "Fine. Chen Zhuo and Xu Xiumei are the only ones on the first floor. Be quick."

"Keep it under five and a half minutes. Any longer, and you're at risk."

He didn't explain the math.

Xia Yue grinned. "Obviously! The clock's ticking!"

The door clicked shut behind her.

Alone, Lin Yu's composed mask shattered.

He rubbed his face roughly.

Every second with Xia Yue, he'd been performing—playing the arrogant, control-obsessed "detective."

So why five and a half minutes?

The number was arbitrary—Lin Yu just wanted her back ASAP.

If only pretending to be a "famous detective" actually gave me superhuman observation skills...

He massaged his temples.

Lin Yu wasn’t stupid. Jiangcheng University’s acting program ranked top-three nationally, with brutal entry requirements. He aced psychology electives and stage performances alike.

Years of theater had honed his nerves; he could force calm like flipping a switch.

And yes, he had a knack for reading people.

But in this death game?

His "smarts" felt pitifully inadequate.

He couldn’t track all players’ movements.

Couldn’t mind-read the wolves.

Couldn’t stay utterly composed when lives—his included—were at stake.

Worse, something about this game felt off. From the rules to the others’ reactions, anomalies lurked everywhere.

Yet he couldn’t pinpoint why.

Still—

Play or perish.

Lin Yu exhaled, refocusing.

Unsolved problems can wait.

These five minutes alone? Priceless.

His gaze swept the room, hunting for advantages.