After the trial, everyone had decided to continue on with their life. Based on past experience, they all knew it was hopeless to mope around.

As soon as the elevator doors opened back up, Wyatt immediately rushed to his room, taking out a clean outfit before putting it on. The sight of Amanda's blood on his old clothes burned into his mind.

He went to the bathroom to get the blood off of his white sneakers once he noticed that there weren't any other pairs of shoes, accomplishing it after some rather horrifying experiences involving the smell of blood, his bare hands, and soap. He almost puked.

Wyatt, feeling slightly better now that he knew that the blood was off his shirt, put the old shirt in the back of his closet. It wasn't the greatest omen...but somehow, it reminded Wyatt of the friends he'd lost. He didn't want to get rid of it.

He walked into the dining hall, where everyone was sitting around. The clock hanging on the wall said it was one o'clock in the afternoon, just around lunch time. They all sat down and managed to engage in small talk while grabbing sandwiches off the plate, a majority of them asking questions about Vega, who switched back to Damien in exasperation. 

As they were talking, however, something strange happened. There was the sound of a doorbell, loud enough to make everyone quiet down suddenly. Wyatt looked at the others in confusion. He'd always thought that no one was stupid enough to ring the bell at the Belmont's Manse.

Apparently, he was wrong.

Everyone immediately dropped their food, pushed their chairs back, and ran for the front door that everyone had ignored since they'd gotten to the manse. The large double doors seemed almost foreign to Wyatt; he hadn't seen the front since he'd arrived at the manse. 

The twelve of them were on their tiptoes, pressing their ears against the door.

"Ow! Quit shoving!"

"You're practically ramming my face into the wall, get off!"

"Sshh! I can't hear a thing with you guys arguing like that!"

Dagger walked down the stairs, scowling. His hair was disheveled, his suit was still covered in Amanda's blood, and he had a significant keyboard print on his cheek. He'd fallen asleep on his computer. "Move!" he snarled, pushing them all out of the way.

Wyatt stood off to the side and glanced at Dagger's attire. "Uh...won't the person be more than a little freaked out if he finds blood on your shirt when you answer the door?"

Dagger glared at him and then frowned at his shirt, sighing and snapping his fingers. There was a shimmer of dark light, and then faded, showing Dagger wearing a clean suit. "There," he mumbled, opening the door.

Everyone peeked outside, hoping to see a glimpse of the outside world. What shocked them, however, was the fact that there was nothing but grey for as far as the eye could see. And, standing at the doorway, looking slightly intimidated, was a short little boy.

Wyatt could do nothing but stare at the kid in front of him. This...eight year old...had the guts to ring on the doorbell that hosted a psychotic murderer keeping his party guests hostage?

The boy looked up at them. His eyes were shockingly red, and slanted. He had long, silver hair that reached past his shoulders and a scar running down his eye. He had two black stripes on his nose, and a tattoo on his cheek, as well as an earring of the same symbol dangling from his right ear. The boy was wearing an over-sized trench coat and boots, which looked odd on him. 

Was Dagger going to let the kid in?

Wyatt figured Dagger wouldn't. Someone who could potentially murder his hostages without a second glance wouldn't have the heart to let a second grader in. It would spread more rumors about this place if a kid went missing mysteriously. 

Dagger looked shocked, almost frightened for a second, before he forced a smile on his face. "Hey, what's your name?"

The fourteen of them stared at Dagger like he'd suddenly turned into an elementary school teacher. 

The boy looked up at them. "Uh...wrong door..." he mumbled.

Dagger's smile widened. "Oh, that's fine, it's getting cold. Come inside, if you will. My guests and I were just...chatting," Dagger glared at them.

Dagger had definitely hit his head somewhere.

The kid relaxed and walked in. "I'm Royce," he said cheerfully, "Royce Hunter."

Wyatt noticed Dagger stiffen as he helped the kid out of his jacket. "What a...wonderful name. Would you like to stay for the night? We have a couple of spare rooms. A few of the guests left."

Wyatt felt like leaning against the wall and vomiting at Dagger's last sentence.

Royce nodded happily.

"My guests will take care of you for now. I have some...urgent...business...to do," Dagger forced out.

What was Dagger's problem?

Immediately, Dagger fled out of the room, a little too rushed to seem relaxed. 

"Geez, someone doesn't like children," Griffin muttered.

The fifteen of them headed off into the dining room, sitting down quietly before asking Royce a volley of questions.

"What kind of idiot decides to come here?"

"How did you get here?"

"You realize that you can't leave, right?"

"You're so naïve, do you know how dangerous Dagger Belmont is?"

Royce looked up from his seat, his slanted eyes coldly studying them. "I have a question for you guys. How much do you believe...in hope?"

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I'm serious. What do you think hope is?"

Star hesitated before answering, "It's the thing that helps us move on. It conquers fear."

Royce sat back and watched them. Very calmly, almost eerily, he replied, "I don't believe in hope. Someone once said that all the actions in one's life is motivated by fear and love. Since our society doesn't have hope in love anymore, we are driven by fear. Fear and despair are almost the same thing. Therefore, we live in a world of despair and there is no such thing as hope."

The fourteen of them stared at Royce, their mouths gaping in shock. Royce studied their expressions, before smiling, and airily saying, "Just kidding. Happy Belated April Fools!" Yet, in Wyatt's eyes, he noticed that the casual "just kidding" seemed to be a lie.

The intercom crackled. "Attention! It is now ten o'clock! You have fifteen minutes to get into your rooms for the night! The guest can sleep in our... extra rooms! Ahaha!"

They bid each other farewell and left to their rooms. Wyatt watched Royce closely as the boy shut the door that once belonged to Cody's room. He felt a pang of guilt as he went to bed and slipped under the covers, falling into an uneasy sleep.

He woke up later that night with his throat dry. Wyatt coughed, opening the door and examining the quiet corridors for any other murderers, before he darted into the kitchen. He grabbed a glass of water, chugging it down his parched throat before he sighed, going towards the sink to refill it once more.

A sudden crash made Wyatt stop and freeze in place. His breathing hitched as he pressed himself against the wall. Was there a murderer with him?

Wyatt heard a grunt and a harsh laugh as the sound of shattering wood rang audibly through the dining hall.

Daringly, he opened the kitchen door a crack.

He held back a gasp.

There were two shadows in the pale moonlight; two tall figures.

"Why are you stalling my time?" One person harshly asked.

The second person whimpered a slightly, the moonlight suddenly catching his silver and red eyes. Wyatt gaped. Dagger was never this weak. Who was the person that attacked him?

The first person laughed sadistically as he grabbed Dagger by his tie and slammed him against the wall.

"Belmont, I own you. And when I tell you to get them to kill each other, I mean quickly. What the hell are you doing wasting my time on this dumb game that gives me nothing but sixteen teenagers trying to become friends? This isn't a chatting room. Hell, even a chatting room is more interesting than the shit you've been giving me!"

Dagger choked and retched as the tie began to choke him. "My Lord...I...I just need more time. Please... Royce?"

Wyatt lurched back from the door in fear. This man...the one that apparently had the power to make even Dagger Belmont cry...was none other than the four-foot-tall eight year old? Who now sounded like a twenty year old?

As Wyatt studied Royce more, he noticed that the man still had the same slanted eyes, the black stripes and the odd symbol.

He sat in the corner between the wall and the fridge, hearing the continued scuffle. After a while, he heard Royce's demanding voice threaten, "I want them dead, Belmont. D...e...a...d."

"O-of course, sir."

"I'll be leaving tomorrow. Do not disappoint me."

Wyatt could almost picture Dagger's head hanging in submission. "Yes sir."

"Good, until next time."

With that, both of them left the room. Wyatt let out a breath he'd been holding, downing the cup of water before running to his room.

He jumped in bed and fell asleep, attempting to forget the horrifying detail he'd discovered that day.

Royce, the eight year old, was actually Dagger's boss.

He wanted them dead quickly, and probably brutally murdered as well.

So Dagger wasn't just one person operating the nightmare they lived in.

There was a mastermind who was controlling Dagger behind the scenes, someone who wanted despair to fall among the remainder of the group.

He closed his eyes tightly, trying to forget the traumatic exchange he'd witnessed.