Since the video was still loading, I moved everything from the box to my bed and sat cross-legged, waiting.

When the video finally played, I saw my aunt's face and realized how striking she looked. She was dressed in a white sleeveless top, her thick, dark hair left loose around her face. With defined brows, an oval face, and a natural, makeup-free look, she appeared both beautiful and a little worn-out. Her top fit snugly, and I couldn't help but notice the hint of cleavage showing. A little thought even popped into my head, wondering if her bra size might be a D.

Is she taking care of herself, though? She looked a bit pale.

I chuckled at myself for getting lost in these thoughts. I sighed, glancing down at my own chest with a mix of jealousy and amusement. Compared to her, mine felt small—just "two apples," as I'd put it—but I quickly reminded myself to focus. "Aria, concentrate!" I muttered. I knew hunger was making me distracted.

Then something caught my eye in the video's background. The wall behind her looked like it was made of wood, giving me a forest or mountain vibe. Could she be living somewhere remote? I felt a sudden twinge of worry; she'd been acting so secretive lately. I shook my head, trying to brush off the idea. "Come on, Aria," I said to myself. "You're just hungry. Watch the video, then get something to eat."

But the curiosity stayed. Where was she?

(Video played)

"I assumed you've already opened my present, darling."

Darling? My aunt never calls me or Kyle "darling." Only Mom does that. Something about her seems... off. And that smile—it feels unnatural, almost unsettling. If I were a guy, this would be a complete turn-off.

"Today is your birthday, right? Happy birthday!"

Wait, what? It's not my birthday, and it's definitely not Kyle's either. Okay, this is getting stranger by the second. Why is she still smiling like that? Her eyes don't match her expression; they look distant, almost vacant. Could she be... under the influence of a drug? Was she high when she recorded this?

"Remember your favorite fairytale, Red Riding Hood?"

Clearly, she doesn't know me well—my favorite fairytale has always been The Little Mermaid.

"Remember how Red got distracted in the field of flowers and met the wolf? She lost focus and didn't reach her grandma in time."

Yeah, I remember. The wolf ended up eating her grandma, and when Red finally arrived, she was next on his menu.

"But then, a woodcutter passed by and heard her calling for help. He cut open the wolf's belly and freed both Red and her grandma. Well~"

Her tone took on a darker edge, almost like she was hinting at something. But she also sounds a bit... hopeful? And that smile. It still didn't waver. Her eyes looked hollow, like she was just... empty.

"Now, this time, you get to be Red! And the Wolf is your only ally. Don't trust the woodcutter or any of the villagers, alright? Oh, and check the camera—it's working." She paused, as if waiting for me to grab the Canon camera on the table.

"Lastly, darling, stay focused. Don't make Red's mistake. Keep your head above water if you want to survive. See you soon, darling. Bye."

She maintained that same unsettling smile right to the end, her eyes never blinking, almost robotic. It was like watching an A.I. with a programmed expression.

I don't understand what she's trying to say, but now I'm too intrigued to stop. Whatever she's getting at, I feel compelled to follow through and see where this leads.

She said the camera was working, so I checked and pressed the button.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

It's working!

Hmm? There's a saved video here.

"Aria, don't you want to eat?" Mom called from the kitchen.

I glanced at my watch. It was already 8:45 a.m. Time had flown by. I was hungry, but curiosity gnawed at me even more. I knew I wouldn't be able to eat properly until I figured this out.

"Almost done, Mom! I'll eat soon, I promise!" I called back, raising my voice just a bit.

I clicked on the saved video in the Canon camera.

It was Aunt Marie again, but this time she wasn't smiling. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore a black turtleneck sweater with a backpack slung over her shoulder. She looked frantic, almost out of breath, her eyes darting around. This was a completely different side of her, far from the unsettling calmness in the first video.

What had her so panicked? This reaction looked real, not staged like before.

"Listen, I don't have much time," she said, her voice trembling. "If you're watching this, then you have the code. Don't lose it. Take the ticket to Bill. He knows the way. Don't trust anyone else. Remember the story of Red Riding Hood. When you find me, I'll explain everything. But you must keep the code with you, always. It's part of the system—he'll only recognize and protect you if you have it. Trust only him."

Then, before I could process her words, dark smoke started pouring out of the camera in my hands. Panicked, I threw it to the floor, bracing myself for an explosion. It hit the ground with a hard thud, but nothing happened. I hesitated, then picked it up again, hoping to rewatch the video, but... I'd broken it.

If Aunt Marie was really in danger, how would I get help now that I'd destroyed the only evidence?

I let out a frustrated sigh, torn between regret and self-defense. It wasn't my fault—it was pure reflex! But now, what could I do?

The video ended with Aunt Marie lifting the camera, and I noticed how dark it was around her. Had she filmed this at night?

I picked up the ticket again and reread it carefully.

Wait, what?! Today's date and a departure time of 10 a.m. I glanced at my watch—9:01 a.m.

"What?! This is way too soon. I only got this yesterday, and now I have to leave?" I muttered, feeling the panic rise.

I hadn't packed anything. I was nowhere near ready. My heart racing, I dashed out of my room and hurried toward the kitchen, where I knew Mom was. I still had my phone in my hand.

"Mom!"

Was this even real? Was Aunt Marie serious about this? She expected me to leave today?! I wasn't handling this well at all—I had volleyball practice and plans! I needed to talk to Mom.

"Mom!" I called, spotting her as she packed lunch boxes.

"What is it, darling?" she asked, looking up.

The way she said *darling* made me pause. Then, I blurted, "Mom, is Aunt Marie on drugs, or is she just a natural-born weirdo?"

She stopped what she was doing and gave me a frown. "Are you bad-mouthing my sister, your auntie, in front of me?"

Realizing I needed to choose my words more carefully, I quickly explained everything—the package, the camera, the videos—and showed her the video message I had saved on my phone.

Mom listened quietly, then asked, "Where's the camera now?"

"Well, I... um... I kind of dropped it, and now it's not working." I tried to sound casual, grabbing a spring roll filled with banana and chocolate syrup from the counter. I was starving. She slapped my hand away.

"That's for the store," she said firmly.

"Is this a new dessert idea, Mom?" I asked, trying to sit down.

"Yes, darling, but what are you doing?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What?" I asked, completely confused, placing my phone on the table.

"No, you're not sitting down. You don't have time. Go upstairs, change, and get ready. You're going to your aunt," she said.

"Mom~ I'm starving! I haven't even had breakfast yet, and you *did* call me down earlier," I protested.

"That was then."

"But I haven't packed anything!"

"I packed for you—last night," she said.

"You snuck into my room?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"I did what needed to be done, darling."

This felt like a battle I couldn't afford to lose. "But what about that weird video? The 'birthday' message?"

"There's nothing wrong with wishing someone a happy birthday," Mom replied, not missing a beat.

"Except she got the date wrong, Mom!"

"She probably just doesn't know your birthday. Simple. Tell her next time, and she'll get it right."

She had a point. I *could* tell Aunt Marie when our birthday is. But still, that first video—the unnatural smile, the odd tone. Why stage it at all?

I suddenly remembered volleyball practice and asked, "What about my practice, Mom?"

"Oh, I spoke with Coach Mark earlier, and he gave you the day off," she said smoothly.

"Wait, what?" I blinked, caught off guard. She had answers lined up, as if she'd predicted everything I'd ask.

She went on, still smiling. "In case you're curious, he said you were the only one who actually did well yesterday. So, yes, you have his blessing. Everything's been taken care of, Aria."

I could tell by her tone she was enjoying this, which only made me more irritated. I was running out of arguments, so I muttered, "Everything's set, huh? Except breakfast..."

Mom just smiled, not missing a beat. "Oh, I knew you'd say that." She held up a couple of lunch boxes she'd packed, waving them in front of me. "Here's your breakfast and lunch."

She held up the lunch boxes she'd prepared, gesturing for me to take them.

Her smile was so confident, I knew then she'd completely won this round.