"Welcome to your burial place."
The rules wander between paradoxes and correct solutions.
Which one is right or wrong?
Don't eat strange food? No talking during the main meal? Ban waste? Fatal contradictions flow between the lines.
"Outsiders" are prohibited from talking to each other - who are you next to? Is he or she a human being?
Haha~ Look around you, see clearly...
"There has never been a lord in the castle"..."You cannot call the lord by his first name".
Quickly raise your glass...: "I hope you can hold on until the day when the lord returns."
Gorgeous white roses, because of who soaked in blood?
The price for breaking the rules is brutal.
Fear spread among the survivors, and every glance was filled with suspicion.
The butler is everywhere, his grace is the prelude to death, and his "help" is the poison of the abyss. The lord he spoke of was entrenched in every shadow of the castle.
When cognition is torn apart by rules, when trust becomes a luxury, when the shadow of "non-existence" is everywhere - how do players who step into this place struggle to survive in the maze of deadly lies woven by the steward's rules?
The place of burial has been prepared for you.
The countdown to survival is about to return to zero...
