The suspense was gone. One by one, the players handed their highest card to Charlie and stood.
When Charlie's turn came, he gleefully declared, "I'll stand," and surveyed the group. "Now you all have the same number of chips. Perfectly fair! I'm certain we'll have a spectacular performance tomorrow!"
He burst out laughing as the scores were tallied.
Fifty-one points. Charlie had busted.
He was the only one to go bust this round.
His final chip dissolved into a pool of blood before him. Amid his wild laughter, he fell to pieces, wooden fragments clattering to the floor. Within seconds, the fragments disintegrated into even finer splinters, scattering with a soft rustle until they formed a thin layer of dust on the ground.
Charlie, the puppet who had dominated them for two acts, was gone—obliterated. The players stared at the dust on the floor, a profound sense of unreality washing over them.
"Is the game over?" He Hui asked timidly. "The main NPC is dead. We should be clearing the instance soon, right?"
Cynthia shook her head. "The Charlie we met might not be this instance's main NPC. The script fragments mention two characters: the playwright, Charlie, and his puppet. We still haven't encountered this supposed playwright, nor have we found all the script pages. To clear the instance, we probably need to either finish all three acts or collect every script fragment."
They were right back where they started.
Qi Si spoke up at the opportune moment. "If I'm right, the script fragments are scattered among the rooms. It's still early. Let's start with Room 1 and see if we can find any clues."
He Hui and Dong Xiwen had no objections. Cynthia, bound by her contract, dared not disagree.
Without a word, Qi Si rose and walked directly to the door of Room 1.
He was almost certain that the ghost born of his own sins was waiting inside.
Hansen's "Supporting Role Card" had led him to a theory: players who obtained their corresponding character card could activate its unique effects.
He knew character cards materialized from a ghost after its corresponding player died, but that was useless. It wasn't like the Double Happiness Town instance, where a corpse could clear the stage.
Therefore, he was inclined to believe there had to be another way to get the card. Perhaps... by negotiating with the corresponding ghost.
Cynthia followed close behind Qi Si. Without any hesitation, she strode forward and opened the door.
Qi Si took an imperceptible step back, allowing her to lead the way before he followed with a leisurely stride.
The moment he crossed the threshold, the vibrant, interwoven blocks of red, yellow, and blue that surrounded him suddenly fractured. With a *crack* that seemed to resound only in his mind, the scene before him shattered like glass, disintegrating into pieces.
A new scene materialized from the fragments of color. It was as if a new artist had taken over, toning down the palette. The once-garish hues were now muted, like a faded photograph, yet they felt far more real.
The stench of blood, rot, and mildew assaulted his senses. Qi Si found himself alone in a dimly lit warehouse. Thick cobwebs clung to the boards sealing the windows, a clear sign the place had long been abandoned.
In the faint light trickling through the cracks in the boards, he could make out layers of dust and animal droppings on the floor. A grimy white cat lay in one corner, dead for so long its flesh had desiccated.
Qi Si hadn't set foot in a place so filthy in years. His immediate reaction was to cover his mouth and nose, fighting back a wave of nausea.
But he quickly realized his revulsion wasn't just from the squalor. It was a conditioned reflex, buried deep within his memory.
Yes, he had been here before. Ten years ago. The memory was indelible.
"We agreed," a childish, familiar voice said from outside the door. "I'll give you back the book, you give me back the toy, and then we're done with each other."
"A deal's a deal," Qi Si replied, the memory of what happened next flooding back to him in an instant.
Yes. Ten years ago, he had lured his "friend" to this very warehouse and killed him with a drawing compass.
The murderer, a decade later, narrowed his eyes, trying to recall his state of mind at the time. What had he been feeling?
Nervous? Excited? Or... had he, with everything meticulously planned, simply detached himself from all unnecessary emotion, becoming as cold and numb as a machine?
His right hand, clutching the weapon, was hidden inside his long sleeve. "Come on in," Qi Si said. "Don't let them see you."
A boy in a blue and white school uniform stepped into the warehouse. He was about four and a half feet tall, his face still round with baby fat, giving him a simple, foolish look.
The boy balled his fists, baring his teeth in a clumsy attempt at intimidation. "Don't try to be nice to me! I'm not making up with you!"
Qi Si suddenly wanted to laugh. To think his younger self had once been wounded by such childish hostility.
But there was no denying it: this was where his wickedness began.
After that first kill, his childhood was over.
He tiptoed behind the boy, raised the compass high—yes, *now*—aimed the needle-sharp point at the nape of his neck, and plunged it down.
Warm blood soaked his cold fingertips, and in that instant, the chasm between past and present closed. A blood-flecked smile touched Qi Si's lips as he watched the body slowly crumple to the floor. He casually tossed the compass into a corner.
He slid the warehouse door shut. Working from memory, he walked over to a pile of objects shrouded in a black cloth, pulled out a heavy bone cleaver, and returned to the body. Then, with practiced ease, he began to sever the limbs.
When it was done, he crouched, rested his chin in his hand, and sank into thought.
The memory stirred a long-dormant sensation. As he stared impassively at the mutilated corpse, his stomach suddenly twisted into knots.
"It tastes awful. So awful," the Qi Si of ten years ago had thought, as he gulped down the raw flesh.
"It is awful," Qi Si said aloud. "Even beef or pork tastes foul when you eat it raw."
It was as if he had gained a god's-eye view. He looked down and saw the ghostly image of a child materialize beside the corpse. The child was weeping, tearing at the body like a wild animal.
"Stop crying. You're annoying," Qi Si said coldly. "And be careful. Don't get it everywhere."
He hated children as much as he always had. Especially his younger self.
He knew what an unlikable little monster he'd been—a consummate actor and a compulsive liar, who knew exactly how to cry and smile to manipulate adults into showing him affection.
Of course, he wasn't a "bad child" anymore. His victims preferred to call him "human scum."
"It would be easier if the corpse just came back to life," the child said, suddenly twisting its head a hundred and eighty degrees to look up at him. "If it came alive and took care of itself, it wouldn't be such a hassle."
Qi Si watched as the mangled corpse trembled to its feet. It picked up the cleaver, carved off a piece of its own flesh, and stuffed it into its mouth.
The corpse was soon a skeleton. The flesh it consumed tore through its stomach and fell out from between its ribs. It bent down, picked the pieces from the floor, and stuffed them back into its mouth, over and over.
"Little one, are you my sin?" Qi Si asked, suppressing the disgust in his eyes and forcing a friendly smile. "Do you happen to know where my character card is?"
The school uniform on the child suddenly began to bleed crimson from the edges, the style shifting from a simple uniform to an elegant suit.
The red-clad child morphed into a tall, slender young man who grinned with pure malice. "Of course I know. But why would I tell you? After all, I'm a player in this game."
Qi Si turned to leave. Two seconds later, a resigned sigh came from behind him. "You didn't even take the bait? What a shame."
A black card lay silently on the floor by the warehouse entrance.
Qi Si let out a soft laugh and bent to pick it up.
Lines of silvery-white text materialized before his eyes.
[You have successfully obtained your character card, becoming the second character in this play to learn their destiny.]
[You will now gain all the traits of this character, up to and including becoming the character itself.]
In the lower-right corner of his vision, the faint outline of a small, black-backed card appeared. It depicted a young man in a red suit holding a jester's mask, doubled over with laughter.
This was clearly an identity card. He didn't know which major card it corresponded to, or why it had been altered into a [Character Card].
[Character Card - The Villain]
[Description: He is cold and cruel, a man beyond redemption. He is the obstacle on the hero's path, the very antithesis of justice. He walks in shadow, bound to the darkness; kindness and morality are alien concepts to him. He requires no pity, no salvation. Forged in slaughter, he will meet his end in slaughter.]
[Effect: 1. "First-Mover Advantage" - At critical plot points involving the protagonist, you can decide the voting order (one use per script).
2. "I'll Be Back" - As long as the protagonist is alive, you will be resurrected in a plausible manner after suffering a fatal blow (one use per script).]
Qi Si had already anticipated his role. That the character card came with special effects was also no surprise.
What did surprise him, however, was that he wasn't the first one to find his character card.
The first must have been some lucky soul who happened to choose the room where their own sin resided.
Who could that be? Dong Xiwen? Or He Hui?
Qi Si slipped the character card into his pocket and stepped back across the warehouse threshold.
The scene of red, yellow, and blue wove itself back into existence, and he found himself standing once again in Room 1.
Cynthia was standing by the bed. "I searched everywhere before going to sleep last night," she said calmly, "but I didn't find any useful clues. Still, my eyes are getting old; I might have missed something. It's probably best if we all search again."
Dong Xiwen glanced around the room and remarked in a wry tone, "None of you have a desk? Why does my room get one? Am I getting special treatment or something?"
None of the other players seemed to notice anything unusual about Qi Si. Everything that had just happened felt like a private hallucination.
A smile touched Qi Si's lips. He walked over to the wall and, just as he'd done before, began digging his nails into the wallpaper, peeling back the plaster.
The others had already gathered around by the time he started clawing at the wall. It was obvious to everyone that he was more attuned to this instance than anyone else. Perhaps he really would find something.
Dong Xiwen suddenly swore, "Holy hell!" Where his gaze was fixed, several sheets of papyrus had been pasted unevenly onto the scorched wall, their lines of text now visible as the wallpaper came away.
[The audience loves a comedy. The core of a comedy is letting the protagonist win.]
[When the final act ends, the back door of the stage opens, and the actors exit through it.]
[Let the protagonist live, let the villain die.]
[Good begets good, evil begets evil. An eye for an eye, blood for blood.]
There was no apparent logic connecting the sentences; they seemed to be random notes jotted down by the playwright.
Qi Si's smile widened as he read the lines that were so clearly aimed at the "villain."
He grew increasingly curious about this playwright. Why would someone so pessimistic about human nature be so fixated on creating plays the audience would love?
And he was even more curious to see how the playwright would salvage the plot if he decided to kill the "protagonist" anyway.
Dong Xiwen pointed at the line about the final act ending. "Does this mean that once we finish all three acts, a 'door' will appear on stage for us to exit the instance? Is that how we clear it? But we still have no idea what the story's background is..."
Qi Si's eyes narrowed, the smiling mask on his face never wavering. "There are five rooms left. We're bound to find all the clues, aren't we?"
He paused, then asked with feigned casualness, "What do these notes mean by 'protagonist' and 'villain'? We're all actors here. Is it talking about our roles in the play?"
He Hui, completely unsuspecting, replied, "I think so. I ran into my corresponding ghost yesterday and found a character card."
"What's your role? Can I see it?"
He Hui hesitated for a second. "I'm... I'm a supporting character."
With the example Qi Si had set, the searches in the subsequent rooms were far more efficient. The moment they entered, the players descended like a swarm of locusts, tearing away the wallpaper with a flurry of hands, exposing everything hidden beneath.
On the walls of Room 2 was written:
[A gun that appears in the first act must be fired in the third.]
[Never kill a character easily, unless you have squeezed out their last ounce of value.]
[Set the stage and let the characters move on their own. If things get out of control, change the rules.]
The walls of Room 3 were bare. Faced with Qi Si's suspicious glare, He Hui was at a loss for words, but Dong Xiwen spoke up and saved her.
In Room 4, Qi Si handed over the script fragment he'd found. Since the second act was over, the information was obsolete anyway.
A new script fragment turned up in Room 5.
[Charlie: The king has issued an ultimatum—he's going to shut down our theater! It's all because of those bloody plays you wrote. Now we've lost the chance to perform even the simplest of dramas forever!]
[Puppet: Sir, you're still so naive! The theater was bound to be shut down sooner or later. The king only wants the people to know what he thinks they should know. The things you write were never meant for a wide audience. I merely accelerated the process. At least you enjoyed a moment of revelry before the end.]
[Charlie: I don't want revelry! I just want to own my own theater, to stage plays that express my own thoughts and feelings! Why must even a simple wish like that be destroyed?]
[Puppet (contemptuously): Oh, thoughts! Have you ever heard the saying, "Man thinks, God laughs"? Your thoughts are worthless. The kingdom needs puppets. Puppets like me!]
[The guards pounded on the theater doors, making them thunder. "Just a moment!" Charlie shouted. He rushed into his study, stuffed bundles of papyrus into a leather case, and threw it out the window. The guards, holding torches, broke down the door and began to search every corner of the theater.]
..................
[Note] "Dead Souls" is a novel by the Russian writer Nikolai Gogol, telling the story of a merchant specializing in scams.