C64 — Seeing isn’t Believing

To be honest, after entering so many game instances with Kou Dong, they’d long since gotten used to biased NPCs.

It wasn’t even strange anymore.

But this level of bias—so extreme that it was like he couldn’t even see the other two living, breathing humans in the room, speaking only to one person as if the others were air?

That was a first.

The police officer asked, “These are all students from your school?”

“Mm.”

The young man responded with a light hum, but his eyes remained fixed on only one person.

His pupils were a very light color—not the usual deep brown, and they were further obscured by the thin lenses of his glasses. When he looked at people, there was always a faint, indescribable sense of distance.

At school, this man would smile a little.

But outside, he was more like a living sculpture—only the flicker in his eyes proved he was flesh and blood.

He nodded slightly to the officer in a polite gesture, one hand naturally resting on Kou Dong’s shoulder in a protective manner.

“Since we’ve finished the formalities, I’ll be taking my student back.”

The officer didn’t argue and waved them off.

“If we run into anything else, we may need to trouble these students again.”

The psychology teacher’s grip subtly tightened.

“Let’s go. —My car’s out front.”

It was already the early hours of the morning. A pale silver thread shimmered faintly along the horizon—soon, the burning red sun would leap from below it, and dawn would be born completely.

The young man opened the passenger-side door for Kou Dong and gave him a slight nod, signaling him to get in.

Kou Dong looked back, just about to tell Song Hong and Ah Xue to get in too—only to find the two had already pulled open the back doors and slipped inside without a word, clearly having no intention of waiting for the NPC to escort them in.

Obviously, they knew perfectly well that they were just along for the ride and shouldn’t expect VIP treatment.

Seeing Kou Dong glance their way, Song Hong even shot him a confused look, as if to say, What are you waiting for?

Kou Dong: “……”

His companions were getting a little too comfortable with the NPC’s blatant favoritism.

They didn’t even bother wondering about it anymore.

The psychology teacher released the handbrake and stepped on the gas.

“Scared you?” he asked, glancing over to the passenger seat.

Kou Dong thought for a moment before replying, “Not too much.”

Truthfully, he had been startled at first. Seeing a photo of a corpse in the newspaper was one thing—seeing someone you’d just met earlier in the day lying dead before your eyes was something else entirely.

It only became real when it happened close to you. Otherwise, no matter how often you heard about it, it always felt like someone else’s story.

The teacher gave a soft chuckle. Kou Dong wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but it felt like the man’s gaze dropped lower for a second—toward his feet—before shifting away again. The teacher turned the steering wheel, his long fingers tapping lightly, as he absentmindedly replied,

“That’s good, then.”

While waiting at a red light, he reached over and turned on the stereo.

“You saw something you shouldn’t have today. How about some music? It might help.”

Music flowed softly through the car—a tune Kou Dong had never heard before. He couldn’t even tell what instruments were used. The melody was slow and soothing, with a woman’s voice humming gently in the background. The lyrics weren’t clear, and definitely weren’t in Chinese.

In that enclosed space, the music felt like soaking in a hot spring on a freezing day.

It worked—relaxing Song Hong and A-Xue visibly. The tension in their shoulders slowly drained away, and their bodies began to slump, muscles slackening as if the music had physically worn them down.

The psychology teacher glanced at them in the rearview mirror.

“Did it help?”

“It helped,” Song Hong murmured, his voice full of comfort, almost in a trance. “Really… helped a lot.”

Kou Dong furrowed his brows and then turned to look at Ah Xue in the backseat. Surprisingly, she nodded in agreement, clearly feeling relaxed by the music as well.

“Do you have the source?” Song Hong asked, struggling to sit up. He pulled out his phone. “Teacher, if you have the source, could you send it to us?”

Kou Dong’s frown deepened.

In his memory, Song Hong and Ah Xue were both cautious people. This wasn’t the first time they had entered a game, and they would never casually ask an NPC for something. After all, NPCs weren’t human, and you couldn’t be sure what they might give you. It could be a helpful item or a cursed scythe that could cost you your life—who could say for sure?

But the psychology teacher surprisingly agreed without hesitation.

“Sure, I’ll send it to you.”

Just as the light turned red, he took out his phone and prepared to send the file when—

Suddenly, the car was filled with the intense, powerful opening of The Internationale, causing all of them to jump in shock.

The booming male and female chorus quickly drowned out the soft, gentle female voice that had been playing earlier. The entire car reverberated with the grand, dramatic lines of “Arise, ye workers from your slumber…”

It was overwhelming, forceful—the anthem for revolution, drowning out the previous soft melody completely.

Song Hong, bewildered, looked up, his mind clearing a bit. His expression was strange. “What’s going on?”

Kou Dong casually put his phone away and said, “Nothing, just the alarm.”

“…?”

Song Hong and Ah Xue’s faces were filled with confusion.

He used this kind of music as an alarm?

Brother, how do you survive the shock of a bunch of voices suddenly blaring in your ears first thing in the morning?

The psychology teacher’s lips curled slightly, and he gave Kou Dong a deep look.

“You like this kind of song?”

Kou Dong met his gaze earnestly. “Well, I’m a successor to socialism, so I have to have this level of awareness, right? Otherwise, how would the country develop?”

“…”

The psychology teacher was caught off guard by his response and didn’t say anything for the rest of the drive. He silently dropped them off at the dormitory. When the car stopped, Kou Dong spoke up.

“Teacher?”

The man’s hand rested on the steering wheel as he looked at him.

“Mm?”

“Aren’t you going to give us any advice?” Kou Dong asked, carefully studying his expression. “Like how to avoid this murderer?”

The psychology teacher stared at him. His light amber eyes gleamed behind his thin lenses. After a long pause, he finally smiled.

“How would I know?” he replied. “After all—”

The car’s headlights cast his face into sharp contrast, half in the light and half in shadow. His voice had an oddly alluring tone.

“I’m not the murderer.”

The car drove off, leaving the three of them in a cloud of exhaust fumes.

Song Hong stood in the cool breeze for a moment, then suddenly shook himself awake. “That song… It felt kind of weird. It was so soothing, almost like I lost all my guard.”

Feeling relaxed was fine in real life, of course, but here, in a game instance, where they constantly had to be on alert, letting down their guard in front of key NPCs wasn’t a good thing at all.

Just thinking about it gave him goosebumps; he clapped a heavy hand on Kou Dong’s shoulder.

“Bro, we really owe you one.”

Among the three of them, Kou Dong was the only one who hadn’t been bewitched by that voice.

Kou Dong said, “No need to thank me. But if that voice didn’t work on me, there must be a reason.”

There could only be one explanation—Kou Dong didn’t meet the conditions for that rule to take effect. Either he had something the others didn’t, or he didn’t do something the others had done.

His gaze shifted back and forth between Song Hong and Ah Xue. Suddenly, he saw the girl shiver all over, her eyes sharply focused, and her expression twisted into something strange—something that even held a trace of hatred.

Following her line of sight, Kou Dong turned his head and saw Scarface standing at the entrance of the dorm hallway, smoking.

Scarface’s room was on the first floor. He’d gotten up in the early hours, unable to fight off the urge to smoke, and was now puffing out pale gray smoke rings, one after another.

The way he put out his cigarette was also different—he didn’t flick it to the ground and stomp it out like most people. Instead, he pressed the lit end against the wall, leaving a black-gray scorch mark behind.

Noticing the trio’s stares, Scarface turned his head and snarled, “What the hell are you looking at?”

Kou Dong studied him carefully but didn’t see anything obviously off.

He turned back, ready to ask his two companions about it, but was surprised to find Song Hong also staring intensely at the guy. His expression was completely different from Ah Xue’s—

It looked more like… jealousy.

That thought made Kou Dong’s heart sink heavily.

After entering the game instance, Kou Dong had formed some theories about the nature of this game. His understanding of the rule “seeing isn’t believing” differed from the others’.

In his view, it pointed to another rule: the heart.

What the eyes couldn’t confirm, only the heart could.

And what was connected to the heart?

Emotions. Feelings.

Based on the clues they’d gathered so far, every victim had experienced intense emotional upheaval before their deaths—either being accused or betrayed.

As for Song Hong, his emotional turbulence stemmed from Ah Xue. Having played the game together for a long time, some feelings had developed without him even realizing it. He’d long grown used to taking care of her and being taken care of in return.

Ah Xue had a cold personality and rarely spoke more than necessary, be it with NPCs or players.

That was why Song Hong’s emotions had never truly been triggered—until this copy. The girl had shown an unusual level of attention to Scarface, and Song Hong’s emotions had flared in response.

It was a very small trigger point, and under normal circumstances, it shouldn’t have caused any serious consequences.

But within the game, everything became unpredictable.

All those subtle emotions seemed to be amplified endlessly under the influence of the NPCs, devouring people from within—turning them into empty, colorless corpses.

—So what about Ah Xue?

What had triggered her emotional response?

Kou Dong waved his hand in front of the two of them, needing some effort to pull their consciousness back. He scrutinized them both, first asking Song Hong, “Why were you looking at him?”

Song Hong looked even more confused than he did.

“Looking at who?” he said blankly. “I wasn’t looking at anyone… weren’t we just talking?”

Kou Dong didn’t answer, and turned to Ah Xue. “Why were you looking at him?”

Ah Xue’s expression was far more serious. She bit her lip.

“I know him.”

This statement didn’t surprise Kou Dong. The girl was someone who could control her emotions. The reason she reacted at the start was probably because something had already been triggered outside of the game.

What he cared more about was:

“When did you confirm it?”

To some extent, that determined when these feelings first arose.

Ah Xue responded:

“Just now.”

She stared at the wall with the black-gray mark left behind.

“That kind of mark… I’ve seen it many times.”

Next to her, Song Hong was still talking:

“Looking at who? Who was I looking at? That guy with the scar?—What’s there to see about a scar?! I wasn’t looking—”

Kou Dong let him ramble for a while, then said to him:

“Wanna play a game?”

Song Hong:

“…Play a game?”

“I say a word, you say your first impression,” Kou Dong said calmly. “Don’t think. Just say what comes to mind. Can you do that?”

What was so hard about that? Song Hong found it ridiculous.

“Bring it on. What’s the big deal?”

Kou Dong:

“Banana?”

Without thinking, Song Hong replied:

“Sweet.”

“Moon?”

“Yellow.”

“Chair?”

“Something you sit on.”

…

After a series of rapid-fire questions, Song Hong answered them all instantly. Finally, Kou Dong stared directly into his eyes and tossed out the last word:

“Scar.”

Song Hong’s body slightly trembled. His mouth opened, and he blurted out his first instinctive response:

“Kill him.”

Once the words left his mouth, even he was stunned.

“Kill… him?”

How could that be what he said?

Kou Dong looked over at Ah Xue. The girl said calmly:

“No need to ask. I’d answer the same.”

She turned her face toward the stairwell, now empty and devoid of people.

She was silent for two seconds—then actually started laughing.

“How wonderful,” she said. “He actually hid here and ran into me—he really lived to see this day; he ran straight into my hands!”

Kou Dong’s unease deepened as he stared at her. The girl clapped while laughing, and after a long moment, she finally looked up at him.

“It’s fine,” she said. “I’m not like this guy next to me. I’m fully aware—”

“Even without any influence, I’d still want to kill him.”

She didn’t reveal the identity of the man with the scar, and Kou Dong didn’t ask. Due to system restrictions, he couldn’t really know what had happened outside the game.

But the thoughts he had since “Cai Sheng” resurfaced—Ah Xue had a particularly clear understanding of the evil in this world.

What kind of person understood such evil that well?

Unless… she experienced it herself.

While he was momentarily dazed by that thought, the girl asked again:

“Which room is he in?”

Kou Dong:

“?”

“Why are you asking which room he—”

He was about to ask what it was for, but one look at her left him stunned. Ah Xue had just pulled a gleaming steel broadsword from the luggage rack and rested it casually on her slender shoulder, her eyes still fixed on the stairwell.

“Do you know which room? If you do, I’ll go in right now.”

Kou Dong:

“…”

“…………”

“……………………”

Not to be dramatic, sis—but this is a bit too intense, don’t you think?!

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