At This Point...

“Four pieces?” the Doppelganger murmured.

It quickly recovered, adjusting back to a businesslike tone.

“Very well, sir. The floor transition password is [Bedroom]. There is only one entrance and exit there.”

“The Hunter is an extremely cunning one. I hope you don’t let it lead you around by the nose.”

“In any case, best of luck to you, esteemed public servant!”

Done deal.

Zhu Yan let out a massive sigh of relief.

He tucked away the telephone and muttered, “Bedroom!”

...

Outside the kitchen.

Ji Xiting stood frozen in the middle of the corridor in a daze.

The corridor was no longer pristine white; bloodstains, mangled organs, and rolling heads were everywhere.

The corpses of the corpse-sticks lay shattered and scattered, dead yet again.

Ji Xiting lowered his head. The body at his feet had a knife wound in the center of its back—clean, precise, and horrifying.

It was a well-practiced killing strike. One hit, instant death.

But...

“This isn’t how it should be,” Ji Xiting murmured blankly. “This isn’t how it should be...”

Indeed, it shouldn’t.

What he saw on the monitor was completely different from this!

What he’d seen on the monitor was the Hunter trapped inside the kitchen, finally dying in despair at the Head Chef’s hands!

Why were so many corpse-sticks dead?

Why were all the corpse-sticks outside gone?!

Ji Xiting crouched down in disbelief, his trembling hands sifting through the bodies one by one.

Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

His mind went completely blank for a few full seconds before another possibility occurred to him.

“No... yes!”

He stood up, feeling a surge of excitement, and pushed at the door again.

“Right—the monitor only showed the inside of the kitchen. The Hunter might have killed them all before going inside.)

But something didn’t add up.

The Hunter’s weapon level was only level eight—the lie Dragonfly had told flashed through his mind at lightning speed.

But Ji Xiting shook his head defensively, hands trembling.

Maybe Dragonfly had just misremembered.

“That goddamn Hunter...”

Ji Xiting’s lips twisted stiffly, a strained smile crawling onto his face.

“It definitely—definitely figured out that Dragonfly wouldn’t upgrade him, so he grabbed a higher-level weapon.”

“Fuck, since when did this damned dungeon have so many high-level weapons lying around?”

He let out two dry laughs and kicked open the [Kitchen] door with force.

Inside, everything was just as chaotic, punctuated by the wails of players. But Ji Xiting had already seen all this on the monitor.

Right, right—this was correct.

The Hunter had indeed massacred most of the people in here.

Ji Xiting hurried toward the Head Chef’s section in the very back, his leather shoes—which clashed with his school uniform—clacking sharply against the floor.

The Head Chef’s private room was at the very end.

The door was locked, but the Head Chef had to be in there!

Ji Xiting raised his hand and knocked urgently, pounding on the door.

“Open up!” His chest rose and fell rapidly as he shouted anxiously, “Open up! It’s me, Ji Xiting! OPEN UP!!”

...

Downstairs.

Zhu Yan steadied himself against the wall and quickly scanned his surroundings.

It was another corridor, though far gloomier. No white emergency lights anywhere. Wisps of ghost fire flickered along the stone walls on both sides.

The ceiling was lower here—Zhu Yan could brush his hand against the damp rock above.

He jogged down the corridor and found a crimson door on the barren stone surface.

The door had no keyhole—only a diamond-shaped indent in the very middle.

Above the indent, a section of twisted, clearly carved text read:

“Before inserting the key, be warned.”

“This is the finale of a play—the death knell of a script.”

“Player, consider your audience!”

“They may crave delay. A rushed ending sits too heavy in their hearts...”

Zhu Yan furrowed his brow.

There was a prompt like this?

It looked as if it were carved specifically for him—

Apart from him, which other player had an “audience”?

“Congratulations!” A female voice whispered right against his ear, making his whole body tense.

His heart began thumping violently a moment too late. He nervously glanced back over his shoulder.

“Congratulations, dear Hunter.” The female voice chirped with delight. “You have acquired all five [Key Fragments], and with quick action and sharp wit, located the dungeon’s entrance-exit door.”

With the broadcast as his guarantee, Zhu Yan finally allowed himself to relax.

He gave the scarlet door a light push, and with a thought, drew all five fragments out of his ring simultaneously.

The door looked short but was incredibly solid. It didn’t budge.

He withdrew his gaze, lowered his head, and pieced the five pale fragments together in order.

They drew together like magnets, fusing into a sharp diamond shape.

Then, visible to the naked eye, red began to seep out from its center, staining the object the same crimson as the door.

Zhu Yan clenched the key, his palm sweating from tension.

He almost wanted to fit the key straight into the slot, but a thought flashed through his mind—

Yang Zhanbai, Qi Yinming, Chen Zhaoxing, and that cage full of players locked in the kitchen.

He wondered how they were doing.

If Zhu Yan opened the door, would they be able to leave the dungeon with him?

“If you open the door, player,” the female voice intoned, “they will all be able to end the game and be teleported out alongside you. And they count as victors—carried by you, of course.”

“So, I can open the door anytime?” Zhu Yan asked in a low voice.

“Correct, player.” the female voice confirmed. “Once the door is opened, the dungeon immediately concludes.”

Ah. Good system.

Zhu Yan praised it sincerely in his heart and looked back toward the door.

The words carved on it were still clear.

What did the audience of [Court of All Specters] want to see?

The first part was, in fact, already finished.

Was it the rage of those horror creatures when they discovered the truth? Or the denouement of other unfinished threads?

If opening the door cost no time at all, Zhu Yan was more than happy to stay by the threshold—to finish the deception on the other side with Yang Zhanbai’s lie, and catch a delightful glimpse of the horror creatures’ fury at being fooled.

After all, who could resist watching a good show?

With that thought, he lowered his gaze to his open left palm and entered the [Player Forum].

...

In the banquet hall.

The Silver Lady was growing impatient.

“How long has that dead kid been gone? What’s taking so long? Has something happened?”

Madam curved its lips into a smile and rose gracefully.

“Several minutes now,” it said, swaying a folding fan as it drifted over to the serving cart.

“And the Head Chef is truly an enigma.”

“It didn’t play any tricks inside the [Banquet Hall]. The touch of [Thrilling Delight]—and the Hunter’s head—were both authentic.”

“If it had dared take the key fragments, we would have seen through it immediately.”

“Strange.”

Madam let out a soft “oh”: “Leaving the [Chaos Order] fragments behind but taking the serving cart—whatever is that about?”

The Goatee stood silent, face grim. The Murderer, however, stared straight at it.

The Madam clicked forward in her high heels, stepped up, and reached out to lift the silver lid covering the Hunter's head. She flipped it open.

"We've come this far—let's enjoy the sight of a handsome boy, shall we? Ah—!!"

It let out a blood-chilling shriek, and the silver lid dropped onto the carpet with a dull thud.

Beneath the silver lid, there was nothing.

Both the serving cart and the velvet cloth that had cradled the head bore a large, gaping hole, and below the hole was a space large enough to fit a person.

They stood in silence, facing the Madam's rotting face, like a wordless mockery.