The calendar on the wall showed that it was November 24, 1990. Feng Bujue was working at a company that manufactured electronic plates, a company that could be considered a large company in the small town, even though its scale was still too small compared to those in the big cities.

Before Feng Bujue started his investigation, like usual, he checked his pockets and found the three keys again. This was a sign that he might be using them soon. As someone who lived in the fiftieth decade of the twenty-first century, when a computer was placed before him, the first thing he would do was activate the computer, and then… there was no and then. Looking at the black screen and flickering code, Feng Bujue, who knew nothing about DOS, was stunned.

With a disappointed sigh, Feng Bujue turned to sift through the paper documents on the table. It took him twenty minutes to confirm that they were all pointless documents. Then, he moved to check out the drawers of his table, and finally, he found something useful. One of the drawers was locked. He tried the keys, and one fitted the lock perfectly.

After unlocking the drawer, Feng Bujue saw a large envelope. It was quite thick, and underneath the large envelope was a smaller one. On top of that was written ’Letter of Resignation’. Feng Bujue looked around like a spy before opening both letters. The larger envelope contained Hirata Shuichi’s resume. The main character in this scenario graduated from Kyoto University. No wonder he was able to snatch the post of the vice manager at his young age of thirty. But that begged the question of why he surrendered his bright future to come work in such a small town.

In the smaller envelope, naturally, there was the letter of resignation. Feng Bujue scanned through it to gain a brief understanding. This Hirata was a kind person. He wished for the company to retain those employees whose lives were not that well-off, and in their place, he decided to hand in his own resignation. After reading through the letters, Feng Bujue replaced the stuff, locked the drawer, and went to the bathroom.

The reason he hid inside the cubicle was because he wanted to give Strategic Victory another try. He did not think that it would be wise to use it in the crowded office. What if the headache returned and he suddenly fell from the chair hugging his head? It would cause a major commotion.

Taking a deep breath, Feng Bujue activated the skill given to him by his title. The result was similar to before. The piercing pain erupted in his head, and no boss-related data appeared, only his own face that flashed before his sight. The face was similar to the one that he had seen earlier, dull with bulging yet lifeless eyes.

Just as Feng Bujue was holding his head, recovering from the pain and nausea, he heard the bathroom door being pushed open. From the footsteps, it sounded like two people had walked in. The two walked to the urinals and as they relieved themselves, they chatted.

“Hey… did you see him in the stairwell earlier?”

“Oh, yes, that horrible manager is becoming more and more brazen.”

“Shh! Other people might hear you…”

“Pfft… So what if other people hear me? After all, I’ve been meaning to quit already. That b*stard, Fukui, isn’t it his fault that the company has fallen into this state?” The man grumbled and huffed angrily. “He keeps making stupid decisions and pushes the blame onto others. I hear this is not his first time embezzling company funds. The company is facing bankruptcy, but the man is living his best life. A few days ago, he bought a western manor and happily moved into it. It is because the company has a parasite like him that we’re going to lose our jobs.”

“Sigh… Even if that’s true, what can low-level employees like us do?”

The two had moved to the sink by then. After washing their hands, they flicked open their lighters. Each lit a cigarette and continued.

“The biggest victim here should be Hirata. He’s been left with the unenviable task of cleaning up that b*stard’s mess. To have Hirata make enemies of the seniors by having him let them go is probably the b*stard’s idea as well.”

“Good things never happen to good people. I heard Hirata’s home was situated in the area most affected by the tornado. He and his wife have moved to the long house in San-chome.”

“Huh? Is that place even habitable?”

“Well, what other choice do they have?” The man puffed out the smoke. “But the worst thing is that his wife is cheating on him.”

“Yes, being so openly flirty with the manager on the stairs. Even bystanders like ourselves couldn’t stomach it.” The man paused to take a puff of the smoke. “Apparently, a few years ago, Hirata abandoned his bright future in Kyoto and purposely returned to his hometown for Haruko. In fact, Haruko got a job at this company because Hirata-kun used his connections and begged others to open a position for her at the company. Now that woman has mixed with the likes of that b*stard for the sake of money and did all those things while her husband could have discovered them easily. It’s disgusting.”

Feng Bujue was stunned when he heard the conversation. This whole scenario truly intended to ruin his good morals. Hirata Shuichi’s life was more than unlucky. His house was uprooted by a tornado, he was going to lose his job, he did not have much money, he traded a bright future and youth for nothing, and now he was haunted by ghosts. Suicide might be a better option at this point.

“Hey… it sounds like someone’s in that cubicle.” The two suddenly lowered their voices.

“Did he hear everything? Who’s in there?”

“Wait a minute… When we passed the office earlier, Hirata wasn’t at his seat. Could it be…”

The two’s voices lowered to such a stage that Feng Bujue could not hear them anymore. He was wondering how he should show himself… but that problem was resolved without him having to do anything because Feng Bujue lost control of his body once more.

What the f*ck? Again‽ Feng Bujue wanted to curse. Don’t tell me this scenario has even more main quests‽ Is this scenario endless?

The answer was no—it had already ended.

This time, the system audio did not say anything. Feng Bujue’s sight did not turn into a cinematic scene, but he was looking at a projection on the wall. He was situated inside a room made of cement. There were no windows, and the door was beyond his sight. When he recovered, he realized that color had returned, but the creaking sound had become more conspicuous.

Feng Bujue was wearing a straightjacket meant for mental patients. His arms were crossed before his chest. His sleeves did not have an opening, and they were curled around his body, tied behind his back. His neck, waist, legs, and ankles were secured in place by specially-made leather buckles. He was strapped to a chair, and the only posture he could take was a sitting position. Even wiggling left and right exhausted a great amount of energy.

But what gave him the greatest discomfort was the fact that his eyelids were taped to his forehead, and he could not close them. His eyes were incredibly dry and in need of lubrication.

The creaking sound came from a small projector placed on the table to the left of his back. The projector was facing the wall in front of Feng Bujue, showing black-and-white images. The last image was the toilet that he had just been in.

Clap, clap.

Someone reached out to snap his fingers twice before Feng Bujue’s eyes. Feng Bujue turned his pupils and saw a man around thirty years old, wearing an old-fashioned patterned suit. The suit looked stiff and old, but the sartorial attention was exquisite, proving it was of a hefty price. The man was had black-rimmed glasses, a common hairstyle, a normal face, and kind expression. But the way that he looked at Feng Bujue was filled with a trace of confusion.

“Hirata-san, are you okay?” the man asked.

“Who are you?” Feng Bujue replied. The man’s expression shifted. He took out a mini flashlight from his pocket, aimed it at Feng Bujue’s pupils, and leaned in closer to study them.

Feng Bujue’s eyes felt worse with the direct glare. “Hey, hey! Please don’t do that! You’re hurting my eyes. Who are you? Doctor‽”

“I am Doctor Watanabe. Don’t you remember me?” the man asked.

“How did I arrive here? What are we doing?” Feng Bujue asked.

“I’ve told you, doc, you’re just wasting your time.” The other voice came from behind Feng Bujue. He was standing in his blind spot, but soon, the man walked out from behind him. The man was about fifty, with graying hair. He wore a vicious scowl on his face. He had a trench coat on, holding a half-smoked cigarette in his hand.

“Officer Tachibana, please do not disturb me. This might be the breakthrough we need,” Watanabe said.

“Tsk…” Tachibana put the cigarette out and planted his hands inside his pockets. His fiery gaze fell on Feng Bujue, or rather, Hirata Shuichi.

“What can you remember, Hirata?” Watanabe asked.

“I…” Feng Bujue did not know how to answer. The only thing he could confirm was that the things that he had just experienced were Hirata Shuichi’s memory. He decided to be forthright and see what kind of information this might get him. “I was on the way home when I ran into a woman whose lips were torn up to her ears…”

He had just said the first sentence when Tachibana next to him exploded. “You b*stard! Are you done toying with us‽”

Then, he made his move to grab Feng Bujue by his hair. Thankfully, Doctor Watanabe blocked him.

“Officer, please calm down!” Watanabe tried to calm him down.

“Officer…” Feng Bujue had been trying to figure out what was going on, and now he had a brave supposition. “Have I killed someone?”

“Have you killed someone?” Tachibana repeated his question and then smirked coldly before guffawing. “You have finally admitted to your crime? And I thought you would act dumb until the end.”

Feng Bujue turned to ask, “Doctor Watanabe, you are a psychologist, yes?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Then, you must know about multiple personality disorders.”

After a short hesitation, Watanabe nodded. “I do.”

“What is the meaning of this? You have come up with a new excuse to avoid paying for your crimes?” Tachibana, who stood to the side, was bursting with anger, with flames practically flaring above his hair.

Feng Bujue ignored him and said, “I am not Hirata Shuichi.”