Eldritch Horror Theatre

One of the reasons he had stepped forward to exchange pleasantries was passive defense—to prevent the Old Man in the sickbed from accidentally triggering a dark outburst and pushing up Judgment Day yet again.

Buyiren did have a point, though. If Fu Qian hadn't actively provoked the situation, the risk might not have been that high to begin with.

That was why Fu Qian had done something so baffling to the guard. He had an ulterior motive: observing Buyiren's reaction.

From effortlessly steering the situation at the start to standing there with bloodshot eyes and nearly throwing hands just moments ago, Buyiren had clearly suffered his fair share of torment.

It wasn't even a matter of inferior skill. The ultimate esoteric art of pairing a two-man act with rapid flip-flopping wasn't something just anyone could keep up with.

Caught between the Columnist on one side and the Director on the other, he had practically become their sparring ground. Getting completely ravaged in the crossfire was all but guaranteed.

But whether or not the Director was just looking for amusement, ravaging another person's mind had never been Fu Qian's main objective.

As he had established from the start, the whole reason for his erratic swings was to test the Director's "operational limits."

And during that process, Fu Qian had stumbled upon something rather interesting—did the Director have a bit of a split personality?

However, by continuously pivoting and applying pressure, he had discovered that the Director's own attitude was rather complicated.

On one hand, the Director didn't want him catching the train to leave. That was why the time had abruptly skipped to the train-less 54th minute, while Buyiren guided him directly toward the Head Physician's Office.

At this point, the guard's supposed persona—a righteous insider trying to take down Servis and expose the truth to the world—had lost all credibility. He looked much more like a complicit henchman enabling a puppet master's amusement.

On the other hand, now that they were actually here, it was obvious the man didn't want Fu Qian to actually enter the Head Physician's Office.

Because if there really was someone inside, waiting to break into applause and congratulate him on a stellar performance the moment he opened the door, that scene would be the undisputed climax of this entire prank.

Yet, under Fu Qian's relentless provocation, Buyiren had steadfastly changed course, preferring to reduce himself to a clown instead.

And one couldn't forget that these actions could entirely be seen as a manifestation of the Director's will.

So in theory, the one being reduced to a clown was the Director.

For a mastermind who had maintained such a transcendent, elevated image all along to suddenly stoop to this level just because they had been dragged into Fu Qian's twisted rhythm?

In Fu Qian's opinion, that felt a little too cheap.

As a result, when the unexpected complication arose and they bumped into that medical team, Fu Qian went out of his way to do something extra provocative: he stepped right up for a friendly chat with them.

Buyiren had clearly disapproved, doing absolutely everything in his power to stop him.

Given the guard's usual attitude toward the patients, Fu Qian highly doubted the man was actually worried about him disturbing them.

So, thinking in reverse, could the real reason for that behavior be that he didn't want those people interfering with Fu Qian?

He was genuinely in a rush to drag Fu Qian away from there.

This aligned with his previous reluctance to let Fu Qian enter the office, but it completely contradicted his attitude back at the station—why?

The goal of a troll wasn't to become the butt of the joke.

Being dragged back and forth like a ragdoll had already stripped the Director of his untouchable mystique.

And if this wasn't just for amusement, the problem was even bigger.

Did he want Fu Qian to get on the train, or did he want him to enter the office?

These two destinations clearly represented entirely different outcomes. It meant that the Director orchestrating all of this was constantly shifting his stance, swinging back and forth like a schizophrenic.

That was the true meaning behind the words Fu Qian had just spoken to Buyiren.

"You..."

It seemed the listener had indeed caught his drift. In that moment, the guard didn't look ignorant to the implication; his breathing practically ground to a halt, and he looked as though he'd lost the ability to speak entirely.

When Buyiren finally moved, he didn't even try to refute Fu Qian's claim. Instead, he lowered his head and began patting himself down, frantically searching his pockets.

He found what he was looking for quickly. He pulled a neatly folded pale gold sticky note from his pocket and handed it over.

...

So this was how things were playing out?

Buyiren's action was decidedly unexpected. Fu Qian recognized the note at a glance—it was exactly like the one he had seen earlier, down to the identical creases.

So what was the meaning of this?

He couldn't keep up his improv act anymore, so he was just handing over his secret instructions to signal absolute surrender?

Wasn't that a little too hasty?

"Thank you."

Brainstorming was fun and all, but Fu Qian had never been one for seeking unnecessary hardship.

The answer was right in front of him. Why waste brain cells guessing blindly?

He offered a casual thanks and unceremoniously snatched the secret instructions.

[Servis's Office is right before your eyes, and yet you seem completely helpless against the intruder.

His thoughts are inscrutable, his behavior even more bizarre. Everything you have learned in the past is utterly useless against him.

Thus, you have made the most passive choice available: complete and utter agreement with whatever he says.]

Unfolding the note, Fu Qian saw that it was strikingly similar to the one he had confiscated from the female staff member. Three script-like sentences, explicitly addressed to Buyiren.

Of course, compared to this one, his own note possessed far more substance.

All these words basically boiled down to one simple directive: when faced with an unruly troublemaker and left completely speechless, just nod along and say, "Yes, yes, yes."

Fortunately, as if to make up for it, there was actually another line of text separated by a gap below the first paragraph.

[But your inner hesitation has been seen through anyway. As a result, you hand this piece of paper to the other party, and propose that he lead the operation from now on.]

...

Interesting. The Director was truly far from simple.

A single glance was enough to explain why Buyiren had offered up such a crucial item on a silver platter.

These secret instructions were fascinating. It faintly felt like breaking the fourth wall, predicting even this exact scenario.

And it was clear that despite Buyiren's excellence, the Director still lacked confidence in him.

Buyiren had only opened this note earlier because the situation had reached a dead end.

It stood to reason that he had been given these instructions before setting out, told only to open them when he ran into trouble.

Even the first half of the contents was perfectly tailored for that exact scenario, offering highly practical advice.

But it didn't end there. The note had actually predicted an even worse outcome—one where the guard fell completely into a disadvantage, to the point where even his own inconsistencies were dragged out into the light.

And ultimately, under such circumstances, he was required to hand over the instructions entirely, letting the enemy bear full witness to his own pathetic state.

What a bizarre mindset.

"You lead the operation from now on."

Sure enough, the zombie-like Buyiren repeated the exact line written on the paper.

"Don't mind if I do."

Fu Qian gladly accepted. Toying with the sticky note, a certain lingering question from earlier suddenly became crystal clear.

Was it even a step beyond a split personality? Were the Director and Servis actually two different people?

Was this not a two-man act after all, but a trio act?

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