The next is a bedroom. It is cozy despite how richly decorated it is, with a canopied bed that has two plush pillows on it, and rich, maroon heavy comforters piled up. Two well-cushioned wood chairs are pulled around a table that has a bottle of wine in it, half empty, the dregs sitting in two cups. A bookcase has a number of gorgeous, hand-bound books, along with sheafs of music on it, writing utensils, and even a few musical instruments on display.

A window is cracked, looking out over a beautiful garden, with peacocks wandering around; you can distantly see a group of women all gathered around and a man with long white hair performing in the middle. The scent of honeysuckle comes through the window. A travelling sack is behind the door you came in through, opened a little as though someone's been living out of it.

Nobody is in here. As before, the cord runs through the room and under a locked door with some sort of weighted platform next to it.

A sign on the door reads: "What is the weight of family? What of love?"