Chapter 184

Rafael’s finger weakly pointed toward the distance. Before he could speak, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud.

“What’s going on? Did he die?” Stellan asked, completely stunned.

He quickly crouched down, and Francis followed suit. Both checked for signs of life by placing their hands near his nose.

“He’s still breathing. He’s probably just passed out,” Francis said, a touch of relief in his voice.

Odalys furrowed her brows. She didn’t want him dead; she wanted to break him, push him into emotional collapse, force him into desperation, and finally crush his will. Only then could they extract more useful information.

“He’s almost there,” she murmured, her voice cool and measured as she walked over to him. “He’s lost too much blood. Let’s get him inside, stop the bleeding, and treat his wounds.”

“Got it.” Francis and Stellan hoisted Rafael up and carefully carried him inside.

The rest of the crew hesitated to follow closely, but the photographers exchanged puzzled glances.

“It’s like the screens went black,” one photographer muttered, scratching his head. Since Rafael had confessed, something seemed to have malfunctioned. He checked his camera several times, but everything appeared fine. Another photographer was called over, only to find his camera malfunctioning as well—both screens were completely black.

“This is strange… the cameras are working fine, but we can’t record anything,” the second photographer said, bewildered.

The first photographer’s face darkened. “This happened yesterday too. The cameras just suddenly stopped working, and when we powered them up again, everything seemed fine.”

“Do you think it’s happening again today?” the second photographer asked quietly, almost worriedly.

Before they could discuss it further, the rest of the crew gathered to try and fix the issue. No one followed Odalys and the others inside.

“Well, it’s getting late. We should wrap it up for the day,” the director said, his gaze lingering thoughtfully on Odalys and the direction she had gone. Seeing the situation, the others breathed a sigh of relief and began packing up the equipment.

The director, however, stood before Rafael’s door. He stepped inside and saw Odalys tending to Rafael’s wounds. He quickly reminded her, “We’ve got a malfunction with the equipment, so we’re wrapping up for the night.”

“Once you’re done with his injuries, head back to rest. Don’t wander off alone,” the director said, his voice laced with concern. He was worried about something happening to the artists during filming; if anything went wrong, it would be his responsibility.

“Don’t worry, director. We’ll finish up and stick together on our way back. We won’t go off on our own,” Freya responded quickly, reassuring him.

With that, the director said nothing further. He nodded, grabbed his walkie-talkie, and left briskly.

Odalys quickly attended to Rafael’s injuries.

“Odalys, why won’t his wound stop bleeding? It’s been hours since he got injured. Why is it still flowing?” Freya asked in a low voice, excitement bubbling beneath her calm exterior. She felt a bit exhilarated. Watching Rafael suffer like this, a sense of satisfaction filled her. Every time she saw him in pain, she felt more at ease.

“Didn’t I just use blood to draw a talisman on your palm?” Odalys gently tapped Freya’s nose with a playful smile, lowering her voice. “The talisman, soaked in blood, turned into a weapon that attacked him. This made his wound worsen. The more he treated it, the worse it became. It caused him to grow more restless and frantic—that’s exactly what we needed. He begged for our help, then admitted his malicious intent toward us. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have any evidence to hold him accountable,” Odalys whispered.

Freya’s eyes widened in fright. “I… I’ve avoided a disaster with the blood?” Freya touched her forehead. Honestly, after Odalys treated her, she didn’t even feel the pain. If Odalys hadn’t changed her bandages, she might have forgotten about the injury on her forehead.

“Yes, it’s been resolved,” Odalys replied calmly. If it weren’t for her inviting Freya into the room, the situation might have been much worse. By having Freya voluntarily get injured, she resolved the danger. Otherwise, Rafael might have…

At the thought, Odalys’s eyes darkened with coldness.

“Did you really hurt him when you poked him earlier?” Selah asked curiously.

Odalys smiled without responding. She had merely helped him stop the bleeding, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still in pain. Once the bleeding stopped, the pain would manifest as internal injuries, and it would only get worse for him.

“I’m going to use the bathroom,” Odalys said, turning to walk into Rafael’s room. When no one was paying attention, she drew a talisman and threw it into his room, taking control of the entire space. But there was nothing valuable in the room.

“Now that the bleeding’s stopped, let’s go back and rest. He won’t die just yet,” Odalys murmured.

Stellan and Francis, hearing this, stood up and followed her.

The group walked outside into the quiet night of the mountain village. The moonlight spilled over the ground, casting long shadows that intertwined as their figures overlapped.

“The air here is really nice,” Selah said as she jogged ahead. Freya followed behind her, and Odalys was pulled along by her, while the two men trailed behind. Once they returned to their rooms, the men went to their own rooms and Odalys, Freya, and Selah went to their room. "Rafael pointed here and then just passed out," Selah still felt unsettled. Freya took out some alcohol and started spraying it around the room, disinfecting everything.

“Well, we’re all tired,” Odalys replied.

Freya and Selah’s eyes lit up, and they immediately climbed into bed, obediently lying down and getting ready to sleep. They might have felt too scared to sleep after what had happened, but as soon as their heads hit the pillows, they fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. Odalys quietly got up, slipped on a coat, and headed outside. She noticed that the light was still on in the old house not far away. She felt a presence watching her from the shadows. She quickly walked up, and when she got closer, she saw a familiar figure—Percival. His tall frame stood alone, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Percival? What are you doing here?” Odalys asked, a smile spreading across her face. He chuckled softly, then started walking toward her. “I saw you were in some danger, so I came to check on you.”

As he walked closer, Odalys instinctively reached out and grabbed his wrist.

“Come with me,” she whispered, a mischievous look in her eyes.

Percival lowered his gaze at her pale, delicate hand gripping his wrist, letting her pull him forward. He followed her without resistance. Their shadows, stretched long by the moonlight, intertwined on the ground as they walked side by side. The frustration he’d been feeling inexplicably eased as they walked together.

“Even though I don’t know who in the production team decided to record the show here, I did discover something interesting,” Odalys whispered. “I found out who handled the clothes from your family’s old house in the flowerbed.”

Percival’s eyes flickered with surprise.

“You know?” he asked in a low, hoarse voice.

Note: Some sections were unclear or contained potentially corrupted text ("色," for example). I have done my best to interpret and correct these sections based on context. If you have the original text in a clearer form, providing it would allow for a more accurate edit.