Chapter 60: Hello, Is This Mr. Frankenstein? |
"Sigh..."
The little black cat let out a very human sigh. "You guys..."
"Speaking of which," Ming Po did not immediately demand an answer from Ink, choosing to change the subject himself. "Lord Ink, do you have any special criteria for selecting players?
"I've seen the other players, and their Preliminary Match... didn't seem as cruel as ours."
"...Huh?"
At those words, the eyeball hanging around Ink's neck glared at Ming Po with an expression that clearly said, What the hell are you talking about?
"Isn't the survival difficulty so high because you're here?"
Ink retorted, "In my experience, even though the theoretical minimum number of survivors for Death of the Minority is two, having about half survive in the end is the norm. Even in Escape the Sheepfold, the wolf's victory condition is to 'kill at least two sheep.' That means the theoretical survival count is still eleven people.
"All of my games provide an 'optimal solution' for the players. Take the worldline you just escaped from, for example... didn't you achieve the optimal solution? By deciphering the worldview, you rescued all those other players trapped in the illusion. Their progress might have been slower, and they might not have earned a single chip... but as long as they could figure out that 'the worldview was formed because Yaoyao was falsely accused of cheating,' they would at least get a 'Day's' worth of chips to break even.
Ink added bluntly, "Also... don't call me Lord. You can call me Grandpa Ink, or Mo Laotou if you want to be less polite. Those kinds of formal titles aren't popular around here. We are in a cooperative relationship, not a master-subordinate one, and I have no interest in babysitting kids."
'...So he is an old man?'
Ming Po was slightly surprised and somewhat in disbelief.
Judging by Ink's rather manic and exaggerated tone, coupled with his relatively youthful voice, he had assumed the guy was some edgy teenage boy.
"As for my criteria for selecting players..."
Ink fell silent for a moment before continuing, "There's no harm in telling you.
"The players I choose are all 'villains.' But the ones I ultimately want to select are 'penitents.'"
"...Is that why the seating is arranged by the severity of their sins?"
Ming Po understood. "Those with lighter sins sit closer to the front, and those at the front have a greater advantage... because you want to choose players who are guilty but willing to repent?"
"After all, ink is always black. But no matter what, ink must eventually be used to write on white paper."
The black cat circled Ming Po twice. "That's why picking people is quite troublesome for me. I always have to throw you into instances that test your character or force you to slaughter each other. If you're willing to listen, try your best to lean in that direction..."
"Then," Ming Po suddenly asked, "was I chosen by you too?"
Hearing this, the black cat looked up at Ming Po in surprise.
The mouth hanging around its neck grinned. "Not exactly.
"It took me more than half a year to gather twelve players who met the criteria. When I was just one player short, a friend of mine tossed me a soul and asked me to look after you. They said your Strength was definitely high enough... and that you might even be able to rescue me. I took a look, and your aptitude was indeed quite high, so I issued you the Werewolf identity card, planning to host a classic game of wolves and sheep."
"...Who was that person?"
"Ling Bo Prison."
Ink gave the answer straightforwardly. "A highly authoritative Host... probably the strongest Host there is. Or at least one of them."
With that said, the black cat turned and stepped toward the gray fog, seemingly refusing to answer any more questions.
It only compromised on the very first question Ming Po had asked. "If you want to see that little rabbit, just toss in a single Hour's Red Copper chip by yourself and enter a multiplayer Confrontation game.
"She's already on standby. This round is just short of one player. I'll wait for you for one day. Once the time is up, the offer expires."
Just as he had claimed—he hated riddlers, so he answered almost every question asked of him.
Yet, his straightforward answers only gave Ming Po even more mysteries.
"I have one more question!"
Just as the front half of the little black cat's body entered the gray fog, Ming Po called out to stop it again. "Wei Gu Qiong Chen—have you ever heard this name before?"
Ink's footsteps paused.
He glanced back at Ming Po and gave an answer Ming Po had never expected:
"—I certainly have.
"Back when I participated in the Game of Deception, he was my Host."
Ming Po froze.
Ink turned and left.
'What is... going on?'
'Could it be that Wei Gu Qiong Chen isn't myself from a previous playthrough?'
'Otherwise, how could he know Utopia and also be Ink's Host?'
'But... why did Utopia blurt out that name the moment she saw me?'
'Could it be the name of the face I'm currently using? Then why didn't Ink recognize me?'
'Or is a Host's worldline higher than a Deceiver of the World's? Just like how a Deceiver of the World has a higher priority than an ordinary person's worldline?'
Ming Po's mind was instantly a tangled mess.
His current problem wasn't a lack of information... it was that he had too much of it. He couldn't distinguish which pieces were red herrings.
Moreover, the mysteries he faced didn't stop there...
Still deep in thought, Ming Po walked back into the living room.
That strange countdown was still ticking away.
—131:21:09
—131:21:08
—131:21:07
...
If Ming Po recalled correctly...
When he left his home, the countdown should have had 162 hours remaining.
At that time, the time in the Material Realm should have been around 10:00 PM.
And now it was already the morning of the second day, which meant logically, only twelve hours should have passed.
—However, 31 hours of the countdown had ticked away!
Nineteen hours had vanished out of thin air!
Ming Po was certain that the time spent inside the game was absolutely less than nineteen hours.
It wasn't just his own perception of time... it was also because of the "game settings."
Based on what Ink had said, only he, Chen Bingwen, Gao Fan, and Miss Nameless had successfully entered the worldview decryption phase. Therefore, the other players' task should still have been to wait until the "exam" ended. However, their exam hadn't yet ended when he solved the instance and released them prematurely.
As everyone knew...
An exam lasted for two hours.
Ming Po felt that roughly an hour or so had passed in the game, which matched up perfectly.
"What is going on here..."
he murmured softly.
Right at that moment, a flash of inspiration struck Ming Po.
He suddenly thought of a possibility—
Ink's voice echoed in his mind:
[—It took me more than half a year to gather twelve players who met the criteria. When I was just one player short, a friend of mine tossed me a soul and asked me to look after you.]
[—She's already on standby. This round is just short of one player. I'll wait for you for one day. Once the time is up, the offer expires.]
"...Could it be that the Game of Deception's matchmaking mechanism is actually a lobby waiting mode?"
Ming Po realized the crux of the problem.
Even though when he entered the game, he had just blinked, and the game had begun...
But just like the others' first time entering the game, their impression was that they had entered right after they died. Some hadn't even realized they were dead yet.
Perhaps entering the game merely meant entering the "standby lobby."
They had to wait until the entire batch of players was fully assembled before the game could actually begin.
And the extra time that slipped away in between was precisely the time spent waiting for everyone to gather!
'...But that doesn't seem quite right either.'
'My own Promotion game consumed an extra five hours.'
'Did it really take me five hours just to match into a suitable Promotion game?'
"...However, there's a way to verify this."
Ming Po looked at the blood-red countdown still ticking away on the wall, and an idea formed in his mind.
'Since Ink's game is only missing one person, all I need to do is enter his game, clear it as fast as possible, and see how much time has passed when I come out.'
With that thought, Ming Po walked over to the shattered mirror in the room.
Another version of himself, completely different from the real him, surfaced from within.
Ming Po was not in a good mood, so there was no smile on his face. Yet, his reflection in the mirror displayed a slightly manic grin.
Ming Po took out a Day's False Gold chip and pointed it at the mirror.
The 'Ming Po' in the mirror smiled silently, similarly drawing a chip and pointing it back at him.
When the two chips touched against the mirror's surface, a burst of intense light erupted.
The mirror's surface underwent another subtle change.
Ming Po looked back at his living room.
—This time, he spotted the change at a glance.
Right in the center of his living room, a boxy, old-fashioned television had appeared out of nowhere.
It was a bit too old—it even had dials.
Even with Ming Po's memories, he had never seen such an antique object in real life; he had only ever seen them in old movies.
Oh... that wasn't quite right.
Strictly speaking, Ming Po had just seen something similar not too long ago from Chang Ning's Paradox entity.
But after Ming Po fiddled with it for a long while, no matter how he adjusted the dials, the television only displayed a screen of static.
"...What on earth is this thing?"
Staring at it, Ming Po's already foul mood grew even more irritable.
But right at that moment.
His phone suddenly rang—
Yes.
In this "world of the dead" with no signal, Ming Po's phone suddenly rang.
He grabbed his phone from the bedside, stared at the string of garbled characters on the caller ID for a brief moment, and pressed the answer button.
"Hello?"
He casually greeted the caller as if they were an old friend. "What's up?"
"Hello, is this Mr. Frankenstein?"
the other party suddenly spoke, their tone very polite.
'—Holy shit, I got doxed?'
Ming Po was quite astonished.
But quickly, Ming Po realized... that voice sounded somewhat familiar.
It seemed to be... Miss Nameless?
"Someone might be trying to harm you! Can you come over?"
"Who are you? Where are you?"
Ming Po stood up, his tone turning serious.
"Line 5, terminal station."
the other party answered rapidly. "I'm Nameless."
Then, the call hung up.
Ming Po immediately checked his call log but found absolutely nothing.
It was as if he had just hallucinated the whole thing.
No matter how he looked at it, it was bizarre.
'...Should I go?'