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墨書 Inktalez
I gently ran my hand over the scratches on the mirror's surface. The scratches were deep and seemed to have been there for quite some time; they must have been left long ago. Why would a good person have so many symbols carved into their mirror?
I carefully checked the pile of miscellaneous items again but found no useful clues, so I turned around and walked towards the two large tables. The first table's drawer was filled with clutter. I crouched down and shone my flashlight into the drawer. It was pitch black inside, and aside from a watch, nothing else caught my attention. The watch's face was also engraved with those strange symbols.
I picked up the watch; the hands had stopped moving, frozen at 12 o'clock. Why 12 o'clock? Suddenly, an intense unease surged within me. Twelve o'clock is an unsettling time. Why did it stop at this hour? Why was that symbol also engraved on this watch? What connection did this have with the rumors surrounding this building?
I fell into deep thought again, unsure how to explain all of this. I shook my head and then stood up, walking towards the next table. In this table's drawer, I found a stack of resumes. I reached out and picked up a few, opening them to examine closely. The photos on those resumes had been torn off, leaving only names and ages; there seemed to be nothing particularly special about them.
I flipped through several other resumes, and they were all the same—photos torn off, only names and ages remaining. Just as I was about to put them back, a photo slipped out from among them. However, that photo was smeared beyond recognition with ink; I could barely make out that it was of a girl. I picked up the photo and turned it over, once again seeing that familiar strange symbol on the back!
My heart suddenly jumped to my throat. What on earth is going on? Why is this thing everywhere? What do these symbols represent? As I looked at the photo in my hand and that strange symbol, my confusion deepened. I had no idea what was happening. But I knew that everything must be connected in some way, and what I needed to do now was to find that connection and escape this bizarre place.
I packed the watch and the photo into my backpack. Perhaps these seemingly unrelated items could help me unravel this mystery. I decided to go inside the house to see if I could find any useful clues.
The interior was clean and tidy, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. I surveyed the room; in one corner stood a bookshelf piled high with books, which looked like they hadn't been touched in many years, covered with a thick layer of dust. On the other side of the room, a wooden single bed leaned against the wall, its bedding perfectly smooth without a wrinkle.
In the center of the room was a table scattered with several sheets of paper and a pen, suggesting that someone had been here before. I approached the table, and the top sheet of paper contained some mundane notes, seemingly related to daily tasks in a security office. However, as I continued reading, the handwriting became messy and chaotic, clearly not written by a single person.
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