Personality V: I will save everything

Chapter 696 Behind the Scenes

"That idiot!!!!"

Efron's roar, like a blade tempered with ice, cleaved the air thick with the stench of decaying puppets. The surging emotion within him was less rage and more a desperate lament, as if fate had seized him by the throat.

The fingertips still retained the sensation of pushing Percy and the two huddled children out of the emergency exit. The iron door, barely held together by rusty hinges, creaked mournfully behind them, and had been their only glimmer of hope in escaping this puppet hell.

He turned his head sharply, his gaze meeting Joker's eyes, which burned with a resolute flame.

"I will not abandon Natasha."

The man's voice was hoarse, as if it had been sanded, yet it carried an undeniable firmness.

Behind him, countless dolls with pale faces and tattered clothes were writhing wildly, their wooden knuckles twisting and cracking, surging towards him like a tidal wave, scratching at his clothes and arms again and again, sharp wood chips drawing bloody marks on his skin, trying to drag him into the dark abyss piled with the remains of broken dolls.

But Joker didn't even entertain the slightest thought of struggling. He raised his head slightly, his gaze passing over the surging tide of puppets, looking towards the blurry, distorted black shadow deeper in the abyss—

That was his wife Natasha, whom he had searched for with all his might, but who had long since become a monster who had lost her mind.

But his original intention in stepping into this hell never changed. From the moment he entered this cursed mansion, he was prepared to perish together with others.

Rather than letting her wallow in darkness alone, it's better to stay with her and be trapped in this endless puppet show forever.

Efron watched as he was slowly swallowed up by the tide of puppets. The sound of tearing fabric, the strange noise of the puppets' joints rubbing together, and the almost gentle look in Joker's eyes as he looked into the abyss at the end felt like a red-hot iron branding his retina. His clenched fists dug his nails deep into his palms, and the taste of blood filled his mouth.

Before the anger in his chest could be extinguished, it was instantly extinguished by a chilling panic—Efron shook his head violently, pressing his fingertips to his throbbing temples, forcing himself to pull himself out of Joker's sinking despair.

Now is not the time to dwell on that idiot; the most urgent task is to confirm whether those who escaped alive are safe and sound.

He turned to look at Percy, who was huddled behind the iron gate, and the two children who were clinging to each other, their faces still streaked with tears. The words that had been on his lips were: "Except for Joker, everyone else should be..."

"wrong!!!!!"

A piercing roar suddenly tore through the night sky, and Efron's pupils contracted sharply, as if an invisible hand had gripped his heart. He staggered back a step, his back slamming hard against the cold iron door, the smell of rust mixed with the salty taste of cold sweat filling his nostrils.

Scenes from the maze suddenly flooded his mind like a tidal wave—in the dimly lit corridor, the footsteps of six people mingled and intertwined. He clearly remembered that at that time, besides himself, Joker, Percy, and the two children, there was also that short man who called himself Naib!

That guy who always had a hunched back, a sinister look in his eyes, and held a military knife, always on guard against his surroundings!

“It’s Naib!” Efron’s voice trembled uncontrollably as he gripped the iron gate bars tightly, his knuckles turning white. “He was missing from the theater earlier! But it was too chaotic—the puppets screamed and lunged at us, and Joker… and then that happened again, none of us even noticed he was gone!”

He frantically scanned his surroundings, as if he could pull the missing figure out of the darkness, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

Of the six people who entered the maze, only four escaped. Had the mysterious short man already disappeared into some corner of the maze, or... had he met a fate even more terrible than Joker's in a place they couldn't see? Cold sweat trickled down his spine, instantly soaking his back.

"Woooooooooooooo..."

A soft sob suddenly emerged from the darkness, like a thin but sharp icy thread, slashing fiercely at the already tense atmosphere.

The already deathly silent night sky was instantly stained even more eerily by the crying. Even the wind seemed to freeze, leaving only the intermittent sobs swirling in the empty space, making the cold iron gate hum.

Efron froze, his hair standing on end—the fear from before hadn't faded, and the sudden sound made him reflexively tense his muscles. His hands clenched into fists, his head darted around warily, and his eyes, like poisoned needles, stared intently at every corner in the darkness that might be hiding a threat.

The doll's screams still seemed to echo in his ears. He was terrified that countless twisted wooden hands would reach out from the shadows at any moment and drag the rest of them back to that hellish place.

"Don't be afraid, where are you?!" he asked in a low voice, his voice still hoarse, but he stopped abruptly when he glanced at the children huddled together.

Matthias's small body was trembling violently. He covered his face with his hands, tears streaming from between his fingers. His shoulders were shaking, and the suppressed sobs were coming from his throat. The chaos, the puppet's ferocity, and Joker's disappearance had finally terrified the young child.

Efron's tense body relaxed instantly, and the vigilance surging in his chest transformed into an awkward softness.

His instinct to protect the child overcame all fear. Even though he had never touched a child before, he instinctively squatted down, carefully reached out, and gently pulled Matthias's thin body into his arms.

"Oh, it's alright, it's alright, don't be afraid." He deliberately softened his tone, trying to imitate the gentle voice in his memory, but because of nervousness, he unconsciously tightened his throat, and his originally rough voice became high-pitched and strange, like rusty iron scraping against each other.

He patted Matthias's back stiffly, his palms able to clearly feel the child's thin bones and rapid heartbeat. A strange mix of irritation and heartache welled up inside him—in this damned predicament, even comforting a child seemed so pathetic.

.................................................. ........................

the other side,

In the shadows where the puppet show had faded, the decaying velvet curtain hung like a tattered skirt, and the air still carried the mixed smell of sawdust and cheap rouge.

Natasha nestled in Joker's arms, her fingertips gently tracing his chin where wood chips had scratched him, her eyes gleaming with an almost obsessive light.

“Darling,” her voice carried a hint of coquettishness, brushing against Joker’s ear like a feather, “after this game is over, why don’t you come and be the lead actor at my theater? Look, after all those games at the manor, your acting skills are practically superb to the core; you’d definitely be the lead!”

As she spoke, her tone gradually shifted from half-joking to serious—the thought of acting opposite her beloved husband on stage and legitimately showing affection under the spotlight made her lips curl into a smile.

Joker chuckled softly, reaching out to put his arm around her waist, his fingertips tracing the worn fabric around her waist, his tone full of helpless yet indulgent affection:

"Oh, please spare me, darling~"

He had no interest in life in the spotlight and knew exactly what was the best way to deal with his wife.

Before he finished speaking, he lowered his head slightly and precisely captured Natasha's lips. As their lips and teeth touched, the surrounding darkness seemed to lose its ferocity, leaving only the thick, inseparable tenderness between them—even in purgatory, this twisted love remained burning hot.

“Eek.................” ( ?_?)

Behind a pillar not far away, Naib was hunched over, one hand covering his mouth, his brows furrowed, his stomach churning so badly he felt like he was about to vomit.

He thought to himself: No one's stopping these two old married couples from being intimate, but at least consider the occasion! There's a grown man standing right next to them! He deliberately lowered his breathing, wishing he could blend into the shadows so as not to disturb the "romantic moment" of this pair of doomed lovers.

Despite his complaints, Naib felt mostly frustrated. He glanced at the two embracing not far away, his fingertips unconsciously stroking his saber—who would have thought that in Karl's script, he would be "killed off the show" so quickly?

He was looking forward to showing off his skills when he entered the maze, but before he could even make a move, he was hidden in the shadows, just like a background character.

Although Carl had said in private that his character would have a crucial role later on, this abrupt exit still made him feel frustrated and rushed, like swallowing a piece of raw meat that hadn't been chewed properly, leaving him feeling uncomfortable.