After the supervisor had taken Mu Ke away, Mu Sicheng, now roused from his slumber, lounged languidly against the back of Bai Liu's chair. The jacket Bai Liu had draped over his shoulders now rested in his hands. Though he had once vehemently opposed Bai Liu's decision to enter the tournament, he soon realized that Bai Liu's resolve was unshakable. Knowing Bai Liu's temperament, Mu Sicheng understood that this was not a conviction he could easily sway.
He watched with cold detachment as Bai Liu lured Mu Ke onto his metaphorical pirate ship, and, seeing that he could not change Bai Liu's mind, Mu Sicheng simply chose to rest. When he finally spoke, the warmth of Bai Liu's gesture—lending him a jacket—softened his tone despite himself. "So, you've managed to coax that little beauty onto your ship?"
"You call Mu Ke a little beauty—are you gay?" Bai Liu glanced at him. "Is that your type?"
Mu Sicheng choked, "I'm straight! Can't you take a joke?"
Bai Liu nodded indifferently. "I understand. You look like you have something to say to me?"
Before Mu Sicheng could reply, Bai Liu fetched a stool and sat down across from him. Though Bai Liu's posture was casual, it carried an unspoken pressure that compelled Mu Sicheng to sit up straight, abandoning his previous languor.
Bai Liu fixed him with a calm, unwavering gaze. "I'm guessing you want to tell me you absolutely refuse to join us in this e-sports league."
"Can you give me a reason that might persuade me?" Bai Liu leaned back against the desk, tapping his fingers lightly on its surface. "Why are you unwilling to participate?"
"High mortality, immense risk, insufficient numbers, not enough dungeon runs." Bai Liu listed the issues one by one, then looked up at Mu Sicheng. "All of these, I can handle. All you need to do is show up. Is there anything else that troubles you?"
Mu Sicheng nearly laughed at Bai Liu's composure.
Had this been before their last dungeon, he might have been fooled by Bai Liu's air of omnipotence. But now, after all they'd been through, Mu Sicheng had come to understand Bai Liu's nature—a gambler to the core.
No matter how slim the odds, if the reward was great enough, Bai Liu would always take the risk.
"That's exactly what worries me," Mu Sicheng said, for once entirely serious. "Bai Liu, the league is no joke. The death rate is staggering. There's no need to throw away your real life for this game. Sure, you can earn a lot here, but with your skills, you could accumulate points steadily and safely. Beyond the game, you should always have a retreat in the real world…"
"Real life?" Bai Liu echoed softly, his tone unreadable. He waited for Mu Sicheng to finish his earnest advice, then, as if changing the subject, asked, "What do you make of Mu Ke's last solo game?"
Mu Sicheng was caught off guard by the sudden shift, but he recalled the conversation between Bai Liu and Mu Ke. Though he'd been half-asleep, he'd caught the gist.
Mu Ke's last game, "Day of Departure," was a solo game set in a Japanese-style high school. What struck Mu Sicheng most was not the game's content, but—
—Mu Ke had said the school was based on a real one he'd attended in Japan, notorious for a girl's suicide and subsequent hauntings, with a string of mysterious student deaths. In Mu Ke's dormitory, all but him had died in bizarre ways. This was why Mu Ke had confused game and reality, emerging with injuries—the game's setting mirrored his own past exactly.
It was much like Bai Liu's own experience—"Explosive Last Bus" was modeled after a real bus he'd once boarded by accident.
Mu Sicheng was silent for a moment. "I find it hard to believe—two games in a row, both with real-life counterparts."
"Exactly," Bai Liu agreed. "I see three possible explanations." He drew a sheet of paper from his desk.
Bai Liu had a habit of jotting down his thoughts, especially now that he knew their memories could be tampered with at will. Since writing out specifics would be censored by the system, he only noted down key words. He spun the paper around for Mu Sicheng to see, his tone steady as he explained:
"I suspect many of the games here are based on real events. Some people recognize the originals, others don't. For example, you and I know about the Mirror City bombing because we're from there, but Zhang Kui didn't. Likewise, Mu Ke knew about the haunted Japanese high school, but we didn't."
"But the question is, how does the game select these real-life 'prototypes'?"
On the paper, Bai Liu wrote: [Scene Selection].
"First possibility: the game randomly selects real-world events as templates for horror games. But given the Mirror City bombing and the haunted high school, it's clear the game favors events already steeped in horror. So, this seems unlikely—pass."
He wrote another phrase: [Source of Inspiration].
"Second possibility: the game draws on traumatic or supernatural events from the players' own lives. We know the game can alter memories—could it also read them, using players' experiences as inspiration? That would make the horror more immersive, the settings more real. For example, the final minutes of the second dungeon's train scene matched my memory exactly. Such realism blurs the line between reality and illusion."
Mu Sicheng folded his arms, tapping his finger thoughtfully. "That second theory seems plausible. What's your third?"
"But there's a major flaw in that logic—the timeline doesn't add up." Bai Liu met Mu Sicheng's eyes. "Do you remember when 'Explosive Last Bus' first appeared?"
Mu Sicheng thought for a moment. "It's been around a while, hasn't it? It was there when I joined."
Bai Liu reminded him calmly, "But the Mirror City bombing happened this year. That means 'Explosive Last Bus' predates the bombing. The game existed before the real event it supposedly references. Do you see what that means?"
Mu Sicheng's expression changed as realization dawned. Bai Liu continued, his voice cool and even:
"It means we've mistaken the direction of reference. 'Explosive Last Bus' wasn't based on the Mirror City bombing. Rather, the Mirror City bombing was modeled after the game."
He wrote another phrase: [Testing Phase].
Mu Sicheng stared at Bai Liu's impassive face, feeling as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over him. He looked at the words on the paper, chills running down his spine, his hands trembling. He understood, but could hardly believe it. "How is that possible?!"
In game terms, Mu Sicheng's sanity had dropped below the safety threshold.
Bai Liu's tone was tranquil. "Every game, before its final release, has a beta version—a closed test for a select group, not open to all players."
"If the response from this test group is satisfactory, the game is released to the public as the official version."
Bai Liu lifted his eyes. "My third theory is this: the game and our reality are, respectively, the beta and official versions of the same game."
"The game tests our reactions to certain dungeons. If the system is satisfied, the corresponding game is released into our reality, becoming the official version for all to experience."
"For example, 'Explosive Last Bus' released into reality becomes the Mirror City bombing. 'Day of Departure' becomes the haunted Japanese high school Mu Ke attended. In essence, they are two manifestations of the same horror game."
"In other words," Bai Liu's gaze was utterly devoid of emotion, "our world is not safe. At any moment, the official versions of these horror games could be unleashed upon us."
"If that's the case, Mu Sicheng, the 'real life' you cling to is no different from surviving in the game. So I see no reason for you to refuse the competition in the name of reality."
"For the reality you inhabit is nothing more than a game whose rules you cannot see."