Chapter 60: Sunk Cost |
The uncanny valley effect triggered a discomfort that was both psychological and physical. The cold air from the conditioner leeched the warmth from his skin, plunging him into an icy dread.
An intricate web of wrongness closed in on him. Qi Si felt a long-forgotten sense of unease. His blood vessels constricted, his heart hammered, and his breathing quickened—yet it felt more like a surge of surprise, of excitement.
After a long moment, he said calmly, "If it's just about appearance, that's nothing a little makeup can't fix."
Jin Yusheng said gravely, "You don't have a soul."
Qi Si stared at his reflection, a bemused smile touching his lips. "In your opinion, what makes a person human? The body, or the soul?"
"If it's the soul, why are you so obsessed with maintaining the vital signs of Qi Si's body? And if it's the body, why is the presence of a soul your standard for judgment?"
"It doesn't matter what I think," Jin Yusheng retorted. "The Weird Game's standard is the soul."
The Weird Game's standard?
Qi Si registered the key phrase, and a pleased smile spread across his face. "Then what, in your view, is the standard for determining if someone has a soul?"
"Some believe the soul is the self-awareness of being human, while others think it's that rumored 21-gram intangible thing. So what about you? I'm curious. What set of standards are you using to judge whether a 'soul' exists or not?"
"You just promised you wouldn't discuss these pointless questions with me," Jin Yusheng snapped, putting away his tablet. "Don't go back on your word."
Qi Si tilted his head, his unfocused eyes conveying just the right amount of confusion, as if he genuinely craved an answer.
"I don't know." Jin Yusheng let out a long breath, a hint of weariness in his expression. "I trust the Weird Game's judgment. When it determines my wish is fulfilled, that will mean Qi Si's soul has returned."
"You regret making that wish."
Qi Si's smile didn't waver, his tone certain. "You knew Qi Si for six years. You know exactly what kind of scumbag he was. Death was the best ending for him. All his sins would be settled, the final verdict on his life rendered. As a mediocre, normal person, you never had the nerve to bear the guilt of unleashing a demon back into the world."
"More importantly, you understand that once he found out you'd also become a player, he would have done whatever it took to eliminate you, a liability who knew too much. After your moment of impulse, you realized this too late. So you grew afraid, you hesitated... The soul is the final key, and you don't dare open this blind box of life and death."
The atmosphere froze. Jin Yusheng's face turned grim, because Qi Si had spoken a truth he couldn't deny.
After a moment's thought, he sighed, a low, hollow sound. "But I have to resurrect him. Once a wish is made, it can't be changed. If I don't resurrect him, I can't make a new wish, and I'll never be free of the Weird Game."
Can't be changed? Is the Weird Game cheating?
Qi Si's smile was like a mask fixed to his face. "If you just want to change your wish, perhaps I can help."
Jin Yusheng didn't answer. He picked up a walkie-talkie from the table and said, "It's over. Send Number 9 back to the observation room."
...
And so, after a brief detour, Qi Si was back in the observation room, secured in a supine position, staring up at the surveillance camera on the ceiling.
Though the idea of being a clone was difficult to accept, a rational analysis kept piling up evidence, tipping the scales of conclusion toward the worst-case scenario.
First, his three questions all had plausible answers.
His isolation could be chalked up to irresponsible researchers, and looking back at the attitudes of those white coats, their lack of professional enthusiasm was undeniable.
His real-world body hadn't died immediately, most likely because Jin Yusheng had casually wished for his resurrection. The Weird Game was more than happy to use him as bait to string Jin Yusheng along, hoping to squeeze out more evil.
And the existence of the research institute and its resurrection technology was even more plausible. Something redeemed from the Weird Game certainly didn't need to abide by the laws of science.
Second, Jin Yusheng's attitude was painfully real.
If the man had been an exact copy of the Jin Yusheng from his memories, Qi Si would have been relieved, certain he was just an NPC perfectly replicated for the instance.
But his initial mask of cold indifference—the very image of a veteran player who had clawed his way through the game for three years—cracked at times to reveal glimpses of his old self... That felt far too authentic.
His initial messianic urge to resurrect him, only to be followed by regret and a kind of ostrich-like procrastination, also seemed too genuine to be fake.
The real Jin Yusheng was just that sort of indecisive, vacillating person. He'd often help with dirty work, but he never had the stomach for truly monstrous acts. He was the type who might even call the police if he stumbled upon a murder...
Third, Jin Yusheng's belief that "the wish cannot be changed."
From Qi Si's own experience, wishes could be altered by spending points. The game knew this, of course, and if it had designed this scenario, it wouldn't have left such an obvious flaw. Game instances followed a certain logic; only reality was illogical. The fact that Jin Yusheng couldn't change his wish was the strongest evidence yet that this place, this moment, was real.
Finally, and most importantly, the image he saw in the mirror was clearly not that of a living person.
The game forums had established countless rules over thirty-six years, one of which was that "only role-playing instances alter a player's appearance." A player would either become someone completely different or retain their own face. Minor changes, like only the eyes being different, were unheard of.
Of course, it could be a case of survivorship bias. Perhaps those who encountered special circumstances all died in their instances, too busy leaving last words to share their experiences.
—But that wasn't exactly good news, either.
His thoughts wrapped around him like vines. After a long silence, Qi Si's lips stretched into a brilliant smile. "I look like Qi Si, I think I'm Qi Si, my memories and thoughts are Qi Si's, and my choices are Qi Si's... so on what grounds am I not Qi Si?"
...
Roughly two hours later, the nurse returned, pushing her small cart.
As she prepared the blood pressure cuff, Qi Si spoke. "I need to see your director. There's something I forgot to mention."
His tone was chillingly similar to a criminal wanting to add to their confession. The nurse didn't dare hesitate and scurried out of the room.
Ten minutes later, Jin Yusheng appeared in the observation room, a look of impatience on his face. "What else do you have to say?"
The smile returned to Qi Si's face. "Right now, all you want is to complete this wish quickly so you can finally be free of the Weird Game."
"So tell me this: if, in the process of fulfilling a wish, its difficulty suddenly skyrockets, making the actual cost in points far exceed the original estimate, do you think the Weird Game would be willing to stick with such a losing deal?"
Jin Yusheng froze. "You don't mean..."
"I mean exactly what you think I mean."
Jin Yusheng's expression turned ugly, his voice chilling over. "You have his memories. You should know I could never hurt him. Nine years ago, at that summer camp, if he hadn't saved me, I would have burned to death in that fire..."
"He started that fire."
Qi Si stared at the ceiling. "He only picked the locks on every door to create chaos. He was actually quite curious to see how quickly human flesh would burn in such a spectacular bonfire. To this day, he regrets not getting the chance to find out."
Jin Yusheng scoffed. "Are you taking me for an idiot? My leg was injured. He had absolutely no reason to turn back and carry me. It would have only slowed his escape..."
"Oh, but of course it was because he was a long-term planner," Qi Si said, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "The young Qi Si wasn't very confident in his acting abilities. He didn't think he could win anyone's sympathy without a prop..."
"And you, covered in wounds, looked so very pitiful—more than enough to demonstrate the severity of the situation. With you in tow, hitching a ride, calling the police, finding a place to stay for the night... it all became so much easier."
He paused, a flicker of something like pity in his eyes. "As for you being so grateful to him afterward, willingly letting him use you for six years... well, that was just an unplanned bonus."
"Qi Si's original plan was simply to use one act of timely kindness to establish a connection with you, in exchange for a certain degree of help. After all, you looked well-off, not like some kid sold off by your relatives. He'd take you home, put on a pathetic act, and your family would have no choice but to take him in for a while."
"And he was right, wasn't he? If your parents were irresponsible enough to send their child to a camp like that in the first place, they certainly wouldn't question his story. They ended up supporting him for half a year, right up until he inherited his parents' estate."
Qi Si possessed a fervent theatrical streak and adored recounting his past deeds to his victims, cataloging them with the pride of an artist.
He savored the memory of the lies he had woven—truly works of art—and began tapping the rhythm of *Twisted Nerve* on the bed rail with his right index finger.
"Judging by your expression, it seems my eight predecessors failed to tell you all this? And by the way, did you really think your parents' death was an accident? Or the series of unfortunate incidents that followed, which Qi Si always managed to resolve with such casual ease—did you truly believe it was all a coincidence?"
"Honestly, I'm truly curious. Why were you ever naive enough to believe that Qi Si, a man who didn't even care about his own parents, would cherish a 'friend' who was, at best, a frequently used tool? Self-gaslighting?"
Jin Yusheng cut him off, his voice cold. "Why should I believe the one-sided story of a clone?"
Qi Si tilted his head back, his tone becoming grave and solemn. "Because you already do. Emotions, gratitude, grudges—they're all so fragile. Only self-interest is an eternal, unchanging metric. Letting an unstable element like Qi Si live is more harm than good. There's no debating that... is there?"
As Jin Yusheng's gaze faltered, Qi Si smiled and let out a soft sigh. "It's time to end this farce. It began with 'me,' and it will end by my hand. A rather interesting conclusion—don't you think?"