Chapter 211

Charles had been wandering the hallway for what felt like forever before he finally found a dorm room that seemed just right.

He was switching up his sleeping spot again tonight.

To Floyd, Charles's habit of changing dorms three nights in a row was just a survival tactic.

Giving himself more escape routes upped his chances of making it through this place. Better safe than sorry, right?

But what Floyd couldn't wrap his head around was how Charles could fall into such a deep sleep so quickly, even knowing he had been marked with blood by the "Smiling Boy."

Not long after lying down, Charles's steady, deep breathing filled the room, occasionally mixed with soft snores, echoing in the empty dormitory.

If Floyd hadn't seen Charles's sleep quality before, he would've thought he was faking it. But after two nights together, he knew Charles slept like the dead. Once his eyes closed, it was like he was in a coma—he probably wouldn't wake up even if there was an earthquake.

Floyd glanced sideways at Charles's face, bathed in the dim moonlight, and couldn't help but mutter under his breath. "This guy, he's something else, sleeping like that!"

He looked down at his watch; it was already 11 PM.

Based on his observations from the past two nights, the "Smiling Boy" always showed up after midnight.

That meant he had an hour to get ready.

Floyd's hand slowly reached into his other pocket, his fingers brushing against a neatly folded piece of stiff paper.

The moment he felt the paper, his heart started pounding like a jackhammer.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, then slowly turned to look at the sleeping Charles, whispering, "Charles, wake up. Charles... Charles!"

He called Charles several times, his voice gradually getting louder, even giving him a push, but Charles stayed in a deep sleep.

At that moment, Floyd's panic eased a bit.

A cold glint appeared in his eyes, as if possessed by some dark force.

"If you die, don't blame me... I just want to survive. I didn't do anything wrong, and you were supposed to protect me. You just won't get to enjoy that big sum of money... Why should I be the one to suffer?"

"I don't want to die... I just want to live... I can't die!"

He muttered these words like a mantra, as if trying to justify the crime he was about to commit.

Suddenly, a twisted, maniacal smile spread across Floyd's face. "As long as you all die, I can live... I have experience..."

He threw off the covers, stepping barefoot onto the floor, and quietly stood up.

Floyd carefully checked on Charles, even giving him a couple of nudges, but Charles remained unresponsive.

Satisfied, Floyd took out the piece of stiff paper from his pocket, gently lifting Charles's blanket and slipping it inside.

Then, he silently moved to the door, slowly pushing it open and peeking into the dark hallway.

After confirming there was nothing unusual, he gritted his teeth, mustered his courage, and stepped into the unknown darkness alone.

He walked to the end of the hallway, stopping in front of a room, and cautiously peered through the slightly ajar door.

Seeing someone inside, he touched the bloodstain on his hair again.

The bloodstain was like a wound that wouldn't heal, no matter how much he wiped it, it always reappeared.

Since he couldn't clean it off, he might as well use it.

Floyd's plan was simple: use the bloodstain to cover the entire door.

It was like he was performing some mysterious ritual, his eyes gleaming with madness.

As the blood spread across the door, a satisfied smile appeared on Floyd's face.

After finishing, he moved to another empty dorm room, quietly opening the door and slipping inside, gently closing it behind him.

However, he didn't know that in the dark depths of the hallway, a pair of eyes were silently watching him...