Room 6 was Dong Xiwen's. After tearing away the wallpaper, the players still found no new clues.
“I found the first act’s script fragment on the desk,” Dong Xiwen explained. “It was just sitting there in plain sight. For a second, I thought this instance was trying to insult my intelligence.”
Qi Si nodded and glanced at the desk in the corner of the room. “Dong Xiwen, I have a feeling the ghost associated with your room is connected to writing in some way. It would be best to stay away from that desk later.”
Dong Xiwen was genuinely surprised by this unexpected show of kindness from Qi Si. In his eyes, if there was a way to clear the instance by killing everyone else, this murderous fiend would do it without a moment’s hesitation.
What was this? A gesture of goodwill? Was he trying to play the good guy?
Seeing Dong Xiwen’s wary expression, Qi Si merely offered an indifferent smile. “I’ll be going,” he said, then turned and left, returning to his own room.
He leaned against his door, listening as the players’ footsteps scattered. Once he was sure everyone had returned to their respective rooms, he turned the handle again and pushed the door open.
The stage was now empty. A kaleidoscope of neon lights splashed across the gleaming, reflective floor from every angle, transforming the entire scene into a shimmering expanse that blurred the vision.
For a fleeting moment, a dark figure flickered within the dappled light, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared, impossible to see clearly.
Qi Si walked straight toward Room 6.
Ever since the end of the first act, he’d had a nagging feeling that this instance was far from simple.
Faced with a complex instance, you either kill the other players or throw the whole situation into chaos...
...
In Room 6, after everyone else had left, Dong Xiwen pulled a black card from his pocket.
[Character Card - Audience]
[Description: He is an uninvited guest who has broken onto the stage where actors perform their stories. He makes no sound, observing from the sidelines, critiquing, and offering a rich array of feedback and emotion. He seems to have more opportunities to grasp the full picture of the story, yet he also seems to be a part of the game, troubled by the playwright’s narrative tricks.]
[Effects: 1. "Progress Bar" - You can see the script's progression;
2. "Separate Dimension" - You exist on a different plane from the actors and cannot be physically harmed by them.]
This was the card Dong Xiwen had picked up upon entering Room 5.
The moment he had crossed the threshold, it was as if he had stepped into a parallel timeline. The surroundings were familiar, yet subtly different from his memories.
He was at his younger brother’s school, an upperclassman attending at the same time.
Scenes flashed before his eyes, accompanied by a narrator explaining the background, almost like he was playing a text-based simulation game. But to Dong Xiwen, every image felt achingly real. When he saw his brother's smiling face, he couldn't stop the stinging in his nose.
A voice whispered coaxingly in his ear:
“Those bullies haven’t laid a hand on little Wen yet, but you know exactly what they look like. Kill them. Then little Wen won’t have to die.”
“They are all guilty. Judging them in advance for the crimes they will commit is a way to save the victim before it’s too late. It’s an act of justice. Why are you still hesitating?”
Dong Xiwen looked up and saw his sin.
It was a colossal black scale suspended in the air above him, casting a shadow large enough to envelop the entire city. Below it, ghostly figures writhed, giving it an aura not of solemn sanctity, but of eerie terror.
[Ghost Name: The Judgment Scale]
[Corresponding Player: Dong Xiwen]
[Description: A massive scale that delights in forcing humans to choose between justice and evil. It creates agonizing scenarios to test human nature and kills those who answer incorrectly. What is the right answer? No one knows. Perhaps it doesn’t know either. Ha, ha, ha.]
[...]
An unseen force lifted Dong Xiwen into the air.
The character card rested neatly in the center of the scale. When he landed, he simply bent down and picked it up. A system notification immediately informed him that he was the fourth character to “learn his fate.”
“So I’m the audience? That can’t be right. Didn’t Charlie say we’re all both actors and audience? Why is this identity singled out? Did the playwright run out of ideas when designing the cards?” Dong Xiwen muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he recalled the instance’s opening.
He had been the only one to enter the scene from outside the door. Subsequently, he had remained on the periphery, never playing a positive or negative role, a mere spectator from start to finish.
It seemed... he really was special.
“Knock, knock, knock.”
Three slow, deliberate raps sounded at the door, scattering the drowsiness that had just begun to settle over Dong Xiwen.
A moment later, a familiar, gentle voice spoke. “Dong Xiwen, it’s me, Zhou Ke.”
“Zhou Ke”? What does he want? Is he here to take me out?
He wasn’t afraid of a one-on-one fight, thanks to his character card’s effect, but who was to say the person outside wasn’t a ghost in disguise?
As Dong Xiwen hesitated, the voice outside sighed softly. “I know you won’t let me in. I just came to give you a warning: be careful of He Hui.”
“Huh?” Dong Xiwen’s mouth fell open, and he crept closer to the door. “Tell me more, man.”
“I’ve studied psychology. I can tell she was lying about her identity,” Qi Si said through the door, his tone sincere. “She isn’t a supporting character, which means she must be either the protagonist or the villain. If she were the protagonist, we’d let her live to the end, even if only to ensure a perfect performance of the script. She would have no reason to hide her identity. That leaves only one possibility: she’s the villain.”
“The villain?” Dong Xiwen wasn’t entirely convinced. “If she’s the villain, she’s done an incredible job of hiding it. We’re all veteran players; she can’t be taking us all for fools, can she?”
“There’s another possibility,” Qi Si said, his eyes downcast. “This instance might define ‘protagonist’ and ‘villain’ differently. Whether it was Mr. Charlie or the puppet who wrote this play, they did so with a twisted, resentful mindset. The story they created would naturally be unconventional. The script fragments themselves state that this story is filled with violence and blood. How could a character as pure and fragile as He Hui possibly be the protagonist?”
Dong Xiwen thought it over and had to admit that Qi Si had a point. Still, it didn’t prove anything. He could probably spin a dozen equally plausible theories himself.
He remained rational, shaking his head as he countered, “But the logic of your deduction is flawed from the start. A protagonist might also hide their identity, for instance, to avoid being targeted by the villain.”
This was, without a doubt, the truth. Qi Si’s voice remained calm. “Then tell me, do you think a play can have two protagonists?”
Dong Xiwen’s expression froze. “What do you mean?”
“I am the protagonist,” Qi Si stated plainly.
“You? The protagonist?”
Before Dong Xiwen could react, Qi Si pressed on. “You should have your character card by now, so you’ve probably figured out how to get them, right? By entering the room where your corresponding sin resides?”
Qi Si hummed in affirmation. “He Hui was the first to get her character card, which strongly suggests her sin is located in Room 3, the one she chose. How many heinous deeds must she have committed to harbor a sin that great?”
Dong Xiwen’s breathing grew ragged.
From the very beginning, He Hui had presented herself as a fragile victim, naturally evoking his sympathy and protective instincts. But now he was being told that it was all an act, a deception...
What kind of person could perform so flawlessly? Certainly not a kind one.
Dong Xiwen considered this, then asked, “Is your sin in Room 1? Cynthia was targeting you so aggressively. She must have encountered it, right?”
“Yes,” Qi Si admitted freely. “But I never tried to hide my so-called ‘sin,’ did I?”
Dong Xiwen narrowed his eyes. “Anyone can see you’re the more dangerous one... You can describe murder and cannibalism without batting an eye. Your moral compass is completely broken, isn’t it?”
“And yours isn’t?” Qi Si retorted.
Dong Xiwen let out a quizzical “Huh?” through the door.
“In my worldview, anyone who harms my interests in the slightest deserves a miserable death,” Qi Si said coolly. “In your view, this unjust world needs a revolution. It’s obvious that, for the foreseeable future, neither of our rationales will gain widespread acceptance. Judged by conventional rules, how are you and I any different?”
“Your worldview will never be accepted, no matter when or where, alright?” Although Dong Xiwen felt it was utterly insane to debate morality with a psychopathic killer, he still took the bait. “And while universal values can be outdated at times, you can’t deny they are beneficial to the survival of the human race...”
“‘Beneficial.’” Qi Si savored each syllable of the word, then let out a laugh. “So, in the end, self-interest is the only constant. In that case, I hope you’ll consider your own interests and drop some of this hostility toward me. I don’t kill randomly when there’s nothing to gain. At least from my perspective, Cynthia and He Hui are far more deserving of death than you are.”
Dong Xiwen finally understood Qi Si’s logic, his eyebrows arching slightly. “So you’re trying to get me to team up with you against Cynthia and He Hui? I have to admit, your logic makes some sense, but how do I know you’re not lying to me?”
[Danger is approaching. Players, please return to your rooms and seek shelter.]
The cold system announcement rang out at the perfect moment.
After two seconds of silence, Dong Xiwen said, “Why don’t you go back to your room first? I need to think about it...”
“There’s a simple way to verify my words,” Qi Si said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Either I show you my character card, or I die once and reappear tomorrow in one piece to prove the ‘protagonist-can’t-die’ rule.”
Dong Xiwen was genuinely shocked that Qi Si was willing to go to such lengths.
He quickly opened the door. “Alright, man, you win, okay? Let me just see your character card...”
He was almost certain that the “Zhou Ke” outside was a player, not a ghost. With the “Separate Dimension” effect of his own card, there was little risk in opening the door.
Of course, Qi Si had no malicious intent to begin with.
He never held out much hope for killing other players head-on, so he had no intention of trying to stab Dong Xiwen.
As soon as Dong Xiwen opened the door, he deftly pulled the character card from his pocket, turned it over, and presented it.
[Players may not show their character cards to others. Peeking at cards is also prohibited.]
The system notification appeared on both of their panels simultaneously. The black card in Qi Si’s hand was instantly washed out by a white light, rendering the text on it completely illegible.
Qi Si was visibly stunned for a moment. After a long pause, he gave a wry, regretful smile. “Looks like I’ll have to die once after all.”
The moment Qi Si had presented the card, Dong Xiwen was already ninety percent convinced.
Someone with something to hide wouldn’t have acted so decisively.
He tried to stop Qi Si. “Brother Zhou, I believe you, alright? Hey, why don’t we find a place to sit and plan for tomorrow?”
His movement suddenly froze. Before his eyes, Qi Si’s form flattened, as if he had been demoted from a three-dimensional being to a two-dimensional one. His colors warped into blotches of red, yellow, and blue, making him look like a paper doll that had fallen into a vat of ink.
The paper figure tipped forward stiffly, plastering itself to the floor like a poster. Within seconds, it faded into a thin grey shadow and vanished completely.
Before the first act ended, Charlie had said: “The room will only protect the first person who enters.”
That’s right. The danger had arrived. “Zhou Ke” wasn’t in his own room, so he wouldn’t be protected.
“Zhou Ke” had been the one to ask for that information. He knew the danger was coming, yet he insisted on coming to Room 6, even willing to die once to prove his identity...
Dong Xiwen stared blankly at the grey shadow on the floor, stunned into a long silence.
He suddenly remembered that during the first act, it was Qi Si who had reminded him of the “newbie pool.”
And then, in the game of Blackjack that had just ended, Qi Si had handed Charlie a [10] in the final round while his own remaining card was an [A]. He had deliberately broken up his own 21-point hand instead of letting everyone else fail with him.
Maybe this man wasn’t as irredeemably evil as he had first thought?
...
In Room 3, He Hui was completely unaware that, in Qi Si’s machinations, she had already been cast as the villain, a pathological liar.
She allowed sleep to overwhelm her and dreamed the same dream as the night before.
A labyrinth of glass reflected her image. Countless eyes watched her from every angle as she stood completely naked.
She trembled and began to run, stumbling and falling.
At the end of the path, several yellowed papyrus scrolls were stuck to the smooth mirror surface, like bruises, like scars.
[Guard (sneering): We are here on the King’s orders to burn the forbidden scripts! If anyone dares to stand in our way, we will have no choice but to destroy him as well!]
[Charlie (pleading): I swear I will never let those plays be performed again! Please, let me keep the few manuscripts I have left! I have nothing else besides those things.]
[Guard: I can see you’re up to no good, old man! Still trying to poison the minds of the people with your heresy! We will destroy you along with them, destroy you!]
[The guard shouted, raised his torch, and charged into the study. Soon, towering flames erupted from the room, gradually consuming the entire theater.]
[End of Act Two]
..................
[Note] "Resurrection" is a novel by the Russian author Leo Tolstoy, which exposes the hypocrisy of the feudal ruling class and reactionary officials.