[Ding-dong. Player has successfully cleared the instance “Sin.” Points earned: 50. Ability unlocked: Cognitive Distortion. Item received: Useless-Looking Doorknob ×1. Additional—]
The announcement suddenly glitched, breaking into static.
[Additional—]
[Black Cat ×1 obtained.]
Finally, it relented and continued:
[Player will now receive ten days of rest.]
Fu Changxun stood in the void, listening to the voice as the black cat lay calmly in his arms.
When the announcement ended, he rubbed its ear. “So I really brought you out with me? You sure you’ll be okay outside? You’re not gonna turn to ash in the sunlight, are you?”
The black cat meowed twice—its eyes holding a look of faint disdain.
“…Alright, guess you’ve got it handled.”
Fu Changxun hugged it a little tighter, glancing around the empty space. “So the game left me here—what’s that supposed to mean?”
The mechanical voice spoke again:
[Please enter your player ID nickname.]
There was a blank field next to “Nickname.” Fu Changxun thought for a moment, then typed in the letters.
[Name: Fu Changxun]
[Nickname: Doctor]
[Identity: Player (Stealth Walker)]
[Gender: Male (for now)]
[Age: 23 (still growing)]
[Points: 50]
[Stamina: 20 (about half a middle schooler)]
[Intelligence: 81]
[Charisma: 91 (Highly favored by higher-dimensional beings. Also more likely to attract ghosts.)]
[Sanity: 70 (Ongoing fear)]
[Health: 91 (Sub-healthy)]
He frowned slightly as he noticed the subtle changes in the stats and descriptions.
His Sanity had dropped again.
So even the calm he’d forced himself to maintain wasn’t enough to fool the game. It was analyzing them mentally—on a psychological and emotional level.
He gently stroked the black cat, then looked up. “Hey, this game’s gotta have a customer service system, right? Or a newbie guide, at least?”
The panel trembled, and the mechanical voice replied:
[Customer service here. How can we help you, player?]
“This game… is it meant for all humans? All low-dimensional beings? What’s the selection criteria?”
[Correct. Any low-dimensional being may trigger the game. Only by clearing it can a player return to reality. Death in the game equals death in reality. After clearing the initial instance, players may remain in the real world for up to one month. To extend that time, one point may be exchanged for one additional day.]
Fu Changxun’s heart sank. Even if he cleared the instance, he’d get at most a little over two months to catch his breath. Once that time was up, he’d probably be dragged back into the game by force.
[Players can also purchase and use items in the real world. Friendly reminder: there are team-forming items available in the Game Shop.]
The harder it tried to tempt him, the calmer Fu Changxun became. “No. Points need to be spent where they actually matter. If I waste them on useless items now, I’ll be dead the moment something really dangerous happens.”
“Alright. Send me back.”
Customer Service clearly hadn’t expected this player to be so unreceptive. The panel vibrated twice more, as if making one last attempt, but when it proved completely ineffective, it had no choice but to send him back.
When Fu Changxun opened his eyes again, he realized he was already back inside the café.
The dizziness this time was much milder, but the people around him erupted into startled screams.
“He disappeared and then showed up again!”
“Could it be related to that voice just now? Did he really enter that ‘game’?”
“Is anyone brave enough to go ask him? I don’t dare…”
Fu Changxun swept his gaze around and roughly guessed why they were so on edge.
Inside the instance, the game’s announcement: [The Low-Dimensional Selection has officially begun. Welcome, all low-dimensional lifeforms, to the game!] had also been broadcast in the real world. Coupled with people vanishing all over the globe, it was already a blessing that things hadn’t devolved into full-blown chaos.
He glanced at his phone and was surprised to find that he’d only been gone for two hours.
Two days in the instance, two hours in reality?
Then… how did the livestreams work?
Amid the crowd’s hushed murmurs and Fu Changxun’s own thoughts, Lu Qi stepped forward, looking a little tense. “Changxun, are you okay?”
The moment Fu Changxun saw his face, he thought of [Ghost]. “Thanks to you, I’m still alive.”
“What’s with that attitude? I’m just worried about you. No matter what, we’re still exes—there’s no need to be so heartless, right…”
Lu Qi knew that Fu Changxun was beautiful to an excessive degree, the kind of aggressive beauty that invited jealousy. When he’d first managed to pursue him, he’d been immensely pleased with himself.
But it didn’t take long for him to realize that Fu Changxun was hard to control and had never lifted a finger when it came to domestic matters, which displeased his mother greatly. Once the novelty wore off, he dumped him.
Unfortunately, he never actually got him into bed.
After the breakup, under his mother’s arrangements, he dated several other boyfriends, but none of them compared to Fu Changxun. That was, until just now, when Fu Changxun had cursed him out without mercy.
He hadn’t entered the instance at all—he’d been replaced by a [Ghost] the moment he stepped outside.
So, just like everyone else, all he’d seen was Fu Changxun suddenly vanish, followed by a mechanical voice ringing in everyone’s ears, warning them that they could be pulled into the game at any time.
After all, even deaf-mute people had heard that voice. It had already surpassed the bounds of science.
That was why everyone was panicking.
“How can you be so cold? You were clearly harassing me just a few days ago…”
Lu Qi kept prattling on, trying to draw attention, then slipping into the role of the victim so he could exploit other people’s empathy.
It was a despicable tactic in psychology, but evidently, it worked.
Nearly all the café’s customers gathered around—not just curious about the “game,” but also craning their necks to listen to the gossip.
Fu Changxun sighed and said calmly, “If I remember correctly, we broke up half a year ago. I’m a psychologist—that was a patient’s family member. What, do you think I was trying to scam her into marriage? And as for harassment… are you sure about that? Who was the one who started clinging to whom, who kept harassing whom after the breakup, who was trying to PUA whom—empty words don’t prove anything. How about this: let everyone here be the witness. My phone automatically records calls, and over the past two years, I’ve saved quite a few backups.”
With that, he couldn’t be bothered to argue anymore and directly played—at full volume—a voice message Lu Qi had sent him while harassing him two days earlier.
It was devastatingly effective.
The situation flipped instantly. Realization dawned on the crowd.
Lu Qi could hear their whispers clearly:
“So that’s how it is. If I had an idiot ex-boyfriend like that, I’d be furious too.”
“Exactly. So average, yet so confident.”
“This pretty guy did the right thing! Scumbags deserve to be taught a hard lesson—absolutely no getting back together! Hahaha, look at his face, he’s furious. So even scumbags care about saving face.”
“You’re all off-topic, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, weren’t we here to ask about the ‘game’? Um… is it convenient to talk about it?”
“Hey, man, did you really go play that game?”
One by one, they looked genuinely worried. Fu Changxun sighed and nodded. “Yes.”
He lifted his head to look at the sky, where translucent light screens had already appeared.
They were the livestreams opened by players who were still inside the instances.
