Doomsday Wonderland Chapter 1420: Two Baldies

Chapter 1420: Two Baldies

Lin Sanjiu’s mouth hung open, struggling to believe the rare stroke of good fortune she just experienced. But she quickly realized she had still underestimated her luck. This was made evident when the volunteer continued, “The likelihood of a posthuman a.s.signed the role of ‘psychic’ successfully completing their mission in this round is, let me see… ah, 0.16%.”

She was shocked. “Why is it so low?”

“Firstly, because you were killed right before the end of the game, you dodged a critical challenge.” The volunteer unfolded his piece of paper again—the piece seemed like it could unfold indefinitely, always providing new information tailored to the current question. “Elizabeth is also included in ‘everyone.’ If you don’t believe in your own psychic abilities, even if you managed to deceive everyone else in the building, your mission would still be deemed a failure.”

He paused before continuing, “Once, a psychic realized that dead characters were not part of the mission targets. So, on the second day, she killed everyone in the building but still didn’t pa.s.s. Everyone had to partic.i.p.ate in a second round. You can probably imagine how that psychic was treated in that next round.”

So, it turned out, she should be thanking Mr. Grant for killing her? The memory of her temple being smashed was still fresh in her mind. Lin Sanjiu glared at “Mr. Grant,” who turned away, looking somewhat embarra.s.sed.

“Did you believe in your psychic abilities during the game?” the volunteer asked.

“Not really,” Lin Sanjiu said. “I did see things that no one else could, so I had my doubts, but they were just doubts.”

After all, Marigold had also mentioned seeing a pair of non-existent feet. By that logic, it was more likely that Elizabeth had developed schizophrenia

“That brings me to my second point,” the volunteer said, lowering his head as if reading from a script. “In this round of the game, both the ghost and psychic roles appeared simultaneously, which is a rare occurrence. Most of the time, the psychic can see the ghost, giving the psychic a chance to believe in themselves and successfully complete the game. There are five to six hundred roles in the apartment game. Each round, roles are randomly a.s.signed. In rounds where there is no ghost—”

“Hold on,” Ms. Chen murmured. “What do you mean by ‘ghost’?”

The volunteer paused, lifting his gaze from the paper. “How many of you realized that before the game started, there were thirteen posthumans here, but only twelve residents in the apartment?”

As Lin Sanjiu looked around, she noticed that many, like her, had surprised expressions. Silvan remained calm. When his eyes met hers, he smiled gently. “I’d been wondering where the thirteenth person went. When you mentioned seeing a ghost in the building, I became convinced that you genuinely possessed psychic abilities in the game.”

“Was it this guy?” Ms. Chen said, pointing to the unfamiliar man in the center.

Everyone stared at him for a few seconds, then someone suddenly exclaimed, “When we came to play the game, you were the last one to walk in!”

The man nodded. “My goal was to complete the objective of another player before they did and survive until the 30th day in their stead without being detected.”

Ms. Chen’s face darkened.

“Without being detected?” Lin Sanjiu said. “So, you attacked me because I discovered your existence?”

“There was no other choice in the game,” the stranger said, scratching his head. “What else could I have done? Besides, since you could see me, I became convinced you had psychic abilities.”

“Unfortunately, apart from the four players mentioned above, no one else pa.s.sed,” the volunteer said and resumed the summary he was in the middle of earlier. “Barbeque Brow’s goal was not to be caught in any error. It ended in failure. The catmint’s objective was to survive safely for thirty days, but it failed.”

That seemed unfair. How could a plant, which couldn’t speak or move, ensure its survival, not being plucked along the way? Any accident was beyond its control. Lin Sanjiu swallowed her worry and frustration, patiently continuing to listen.

“Jessica’s goal was to possess Leah until the end of the game, but she failed. Marigold’s aim was to survive for thirty days; she didn’t. Mr. Grant’s objective was to help Jessica achieve her wish; he failed as well.”

With each name he announced, a face in the crowd darkened.

“Pink’s grandma mistakenly poisoned her second grandson, her target. She failed. Ivy’s objective was to survive safely until the 30th day after getting rid of her debt. She didn’t make it.”

“Hold on,” Leah chimed in. Having successfully completed the game, she had a curiosity the others didn’t share. “Who killed Ivy? What happened to her?”

“I owed a lot of debts that I couldn’t repay,” the sallow-faced man who played Ivy replied with downcast eyes. “So, I wanted to pretend to be murdered to escape my debts. I thought Barbeque Brow was a suitable target, so I staged a love quarrel.”

“You probably didn’t expect Barbeque Brow is a woman,” Leah muttered.

“Ivy” only seemed to realize this now, his eyes widening slightly. “It doesn’t matter now. I was killed anyway.” He then glanced at “Jetson.” “I approached him to buy an anesthetic, but he found out about my plan.”

The girl playing Jetson didn’t look like a killer at all. She slowly said, “I knew I would have to find a place to hide after I killed Marigold. I tried hinting to everyone to move your body so I could secretly move into your apartment later. But when I brought it up, no one wanted to move the corpse, and I couldn’t insist too much.”

“So, what did you do afterward?” Leah said.

“I initially stayed in Apartment No. 8 with the corpse,” she said and shrugged. “Later, thinking everyone in the building had died, I moved into Apartment No. 5. I rarely went out because of the blood and bodies… But you still saw me.”

“Are there any more issues?” the volunteer said, folding the note. “Those who cleared the game can leave now. I hope everyone is ready for the next round.”

Lin Sanjiu had come with the grand prize, so she didn’t want to leave withou him. She asked, “What kind of injury did the player playing the catmint sustain?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Where is he receiving treatment?”

“I don’t know.”

“How long will it be before he comes back?”

“No one told me.”

Faced with this volunteer who seemed to know nothing, Lin Sanjiu felt a mix of frustration and urgency. She repeated the same questions in various ways for quite some time, but the answers were always similar. He asked her to wait, a.s.suring that Ji Shanqing would come out. Beyond that, he claimed to know nothing.

She didn’t even mention Nu Yue and Han Suiping’s data that Ji Shanqing had collected; there was no point in bringing up something the other party couldn’t understand.

Silvan put a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s go; he’s just a posthuman. We’ll stay nearby so we can return immediately if there’s news.”

Lin Sanjiu sighed. What could she do? When they left the modern world, there were eight of them. However, only the two were left after a month or two in this game world.

Unable to confirm if Ji Shanqing was safe and sound, she felt as if she had been plucked out, hung high in the sky, and left dangling emptily—afraid that a gust of wind might blow her astray.

1

As she followed Silvan into a commercial district, she was still lost in her emotions. She thought of the grand prize in the Data Stream Library, trying to comfort herself that this was just a small part of him. But then she remembered what the grand prize had once said. Even that small part was forced to be separated from her, so how much darkness must the rest of him be in?

Perhaps she was too distracted, because when Silvan stopped, she almost collided with his back. She managed to halt just in time. Silvan turned to look at her and asked, “If a place looks like the next game site, would you enter?”

Following his gaze, Lin Sanjiu’s eyes landed on a large shopping mall.