After the system interface vanished from our phones, a heavy silence fell over the room. We exchanged uneasy glances, uncertain of what had just occurred.
"Just now… the system said we're players," Lin Qiao finally spoke, her voice hesitant. "And our task is to find the truth. You all saw that too, right?"
Everyone nodded slowly.
So did I.
But I didn't say anything.
Because I knew something they didn't.
I'm not a player.
I'm an NPC.
No one said anything more. The butler's calm, even voice broke the silence.
"Now then," he said with a mild smile, "please proceed to your assigned tasks."
We left the dining hall one by one, the weight of unease still clinging to us like morning mist.
Lin Qiao went to the greenhouse.
The air inside was hot and humid. Vines crept along the foggy glass walls, their leaves twitching ever so slightly. At first glance, everything seemed lush and vibrant.
Until she saw the plants moving.
A cluster of thick-stemmed flowers suddenly snapped open their sharp petals, revealing rows of thorn-like teeth inside.
One of them seemed to catch her scent and slowly turned toward her.
She stepped back, heart pounding. Then a vine slithered across the floor toward her foot.
Forcing herself to stay calm, Lin Qiao picked up the watering can with trembling hands and cautiously moved closer.
Jiang Che headed to the stables.
What greeted him wasn't the sound of hooves or gentle snorts.
One of the horses was decaying.
Its skin hung in loose folds, muscle exposed beneath the thinning flesh—yet it still stood.
Drool dripped from its mouth. Its eyes glowed red. Its teeth were thin and unnaturally sharp.
When Jiang Che brought over the hay, the horse lunged not for the food, but for his arm.
He stumbled back, drenched in cold sweat.
Ji Ran went to check the training grounds.
The machines were rusted, long abandoned. Dust layered every corner.
A young man, looking in his twenties, stood by one of the machines. He tilted his head. "You new?"
Ji Ran nodded. "Has no one used these for a while?"
The man smiled. "No one's been here for years."
Ji Ran hesitated. The man quickly corrected himself, "Oh—uh, I mean, the budget's been tight lately."
His smile froze. His eyes darted unnaturally.
Liu Zehao went to the east corridor, ready to repair the warped wooden floor.
The hallway smelled damp. As he pried open one of the panels, murky water oozed out.
Beneath it, the soil was soaked, thick with black fungus.
The moment the liquid touched his gloves, holes began to form in the fabric.
Wang Yifan entered the server room.
Inside, chaos reigned.
The cables were snapped and tangled, and some appeared to have been bitten clean through.
Dust covered the server towers. Several machines were sparking.
Wang Yifan sat down silently, recording each point of failure. With every note, his expression grew darker.
Gu Wenqiang went to the west wing archive room, organising the mountains of information.
Stacks of old paper filled the room. The air reeked of dust and decay.
He opened a thin ledger and froze.
It was labelled "Personnel Changes."
Page after page listed unfamiliar names, each marked with chilling notes: "Missing," "Processed," "Unrecoverable."
Song Yao was sent to the kitchen to assist with lunch.
As soon as she stepped in, the stench hit her—sharp and rotten.
She looked down. The vegetables were blackened, the meat crawling with maggots.
Yet the head chef kept chopping as if nothing was wrong. "You sure you're seeing right? Everything's fresh."
Song Yao said nothing. Her stomach twisted.
Qin Yan walked over to me, calm as ever. His footsteps were light, precise, and almost soundless on the polished floor.
He lowered his head slightly, voice respectful but steady. "Young master, shall we begin searching for clues?"
I nodded. "Let's go."
Together, we moved through the corridor. The air was unnaturally still, as if the entire building was holding its breath.
The lamps flickered overhead. A few doors creaked faintly even though no one touched them.
Qin Yan walked half a step behind me, his gaze sharp, scanning every corner. He never asked questions—only acted when necessary.
We opened each door, one by one.
Inside, some were dusty storerooms filled with broken furniture; in others, the floorboards were warped, and the walls stained with something dark.
Portraits lined the hallway walls, their eyes painted too vividly, as if watching.
Every time we passed, I felt their gazes shift slightly.
Beneath the frames, the dates kept changing. Year by year, day by day, resetting and twisting into something nonsensical.
And in my mind, that cold message from earlier kept echoing:
[Main Quest: Uncover the truth]
I didn't know what the truth was—only that it ran deeper than anyone here could imagine.