Spring Lock Death Novels & Stories

he asked. "Nah. I doubt it. They're all too confident that no one would dare to open this door. They wouldn't bother to lock it from the inside. And if they do, the lock is just too simple. This is how shitty this system is," Connor said. "Alright! The countdown is already set. You have 5 seconds to wait. I'm going to shut down all the servers for the mean time. Ready, boss?" Saint clenched his jaw. "Ready."

I couldn’t afford to do it again. Out of nowhere, Marcus knelt before the lock. He examined it for a bit and then nodded after. He grabbed a long pin from his hair and picked on the lock. “Marcus,” I held onto his shoulder which caused him to turn to me, “What are you doing?” “I am opening the lock, Your Highness,” Marcus replied, confused. “Are you aware of this sort of lock? One wrong move can kill the both of us,” I remarked. These locks were usually incorporated with some sort of trap. If someone would attempt and use a wrong pattern, death would be the consequence.

She kept throwing Trojan horse data in an attempt to squeeze the Death Broadcast room. Ross said, “Do you still remember what the Death Judge said? There is a pre-set time lock at the bottom of the glass cover. What he said is a time lock. It doesn’t need a key to open at all. Once the time is up, it will open naturally, but the time is definitely not too short!” The few of them frowned and began to think. “It seems to be true!” “If the key he mentioned is not used to open the lock, what is it used to open?”

“Here now doesn’t bring them back.” Rios whispered, almost to herself, “Nothing does.” They reached a door labeled: S-LOCKER 3B The label was old. The lock itself was new—keyed, not electronic, as if someone had wanted a physical point of failure. Elara stared at it. “This is it.” Halden crouched, inspecting the lock. “Old-school tumbler. We need the key.” Dante’s gaze flicked to the ceiling vents. “Or we break it.”

Not to lose the opportunity, I stepped inside. I was in the living room, which would be perfect for any business meeting. I saw an open space towards the end of the room, which showed the entire view of the city. I saw a dining place and a bedroom on the other side. I snapped out from admiring the interior when I heard a click and turned to see Mr. Alastair closing the door. But why is locking and stowing the key in? Was he not going to wait for whoever is about to come? Or did he booked the room for any other purposes and mistook me? I took a step back unconsciously at these thoughts. **************************

“Don’t—” The temperature dropped another notch, and the dust didn’t fall; it spiraled inward, as if the wall had learned how to inhale. The thin metal seam clicked—precise, engineered—and a series of internal bolts began to walk themselves back with slow, hateful patience. “One… two… three…” Lizzi counted under her breath as each lock released, the seismic trace ticking in time. “Six locks. Seven.” The last bolt refused; the plate shuddered and held. The tapping came again—three and pause—and something harder struck from inside, like a hammer, right where the stubborn lock sat.

"Honey, I know you will come back. You're just mad at me, right? I'm sorry. When you come back, I'll never make you angry again. We'll have a good life together." But there was no future left for us. Over time, his company began experiencing financial difficulties, and when he failed to address them, it ultimately went bankrupt. Even then, he didn't seem to care. He was still completely consumed by the news of my death. Three months later, Jacob died in a car crash. Some said it wasn't an accident and that he did it on purpose. Others said the car came straight at him, but he was too lost in thought to move. As for Rachel, she couldn't take the torture in the basement and ended her own life.

The exterior has a design of a crow, shimmering under the light. “There it is…” Inhaling a deep breath, I approach the safe. There's a golden lock fastened on the handle. Again, I take out the sharp pin from my hair and try to unlock it. Strangely, the lock wouldn't make any twisting sound. “What's going on?” “The lock is made with a special mechanism. It wouldn't open with a simple pin.” A familiar, deep voice echoes through the wall. I slowly gulp, clenching the pin in my grip.

“We brought it to warn you.” “About what?” Blake asks. She meets my gaze. “Names are doors.” The memory of a child whispering the Reverent’s name flashes through me, pain lancing behind my eyes. The Crown tightens, reacting to the echo, and I have to steady myself against Ethan’s arm. “The lock is cracking,” she continues. “Not because it’s weak—but because it’s doing what it was designed to do. Silence sharpens curiosity. Suppression invites focus.” “So what do we do?” Blake demands.

I spotted the glint of some long-handled bolt cutters. ‘I thought you were walking strangely. It’s the bolt cutters.’ ‘Shhhh.’ Satisfied with the lock investigation, he waved Dee’s card at a thing that looked like a TV remote, but without any buttons. The lock whirred, a motor started and the gate swung open. He grabbed my arm and pulled me through. ‘Will we get out as easily?’ ‘Depends if the software realises it’s been hoodwinked. If it does, there will be total shutdown.’