There Must Be Something Wrong With This Game!

The bullet blew the toy car to pieces.

Though it was a toy car, Duan Fei suspected it was a shrunken-down version of a real car, with all of its proper parts intact.

Among the shattered fragments, a shiny object appeared, standing out starkly against the pile of broken parts.

He picked up the object and saw that it was a titanium alloy key.

He used the key to unlock the handcuffs binding him to Jinghong, then looked at the figure on the television screen.

As he watched, the figure on the screen grew clearer. It bore some resemblance to the husband sitting nearby, but was much younger.

Flexing his wrist, Duan Fei said to Jinghong beside him, "Jinghong, who do you think that is?"

Jinghong watched for a moment, then pointed to the little boy and said, "It must be him."

"Of course. Just as I thought. Let’s go, we’ll continue downstairs."

The figure on the television silently watched the two of them leave, not having said a word from beginning to end.

The staircase that had vanished reappeared. The eerie atmosphere that had previously lingered here slowly faded, replaced by a feeling of melancholy.

Jinghong walked behind Duan Fei, asking in confusion as they went downstairs, "Duan Fei, how did you know the key was hidden in the car?"

"Among the items we’ve received, it was the only thing that could hide a key. It had to be in there."

"That’s it?"

"That’s it."

"That hardly feels like a deduction. And why did the staircase appear after we unlocked the handcuffs?"

Duan Fei thought for a moment, then said, "I have a feeling this instance is heavy on symbolism. A lot of things have a deeper meaning. Take the lock, for example. It might not just be a physical lock, but an emotional block. Unlocking it means the person is ready to face their past and can continue downward."

Jinghong’s perspective widened. She nodded and said, "Come to think of it, ’downward’ could also mean digging into one’s own subconscious. Maybe the objective ’go downward’ doesn’t just mean physically walking down, but also exploring the subconscious."

"Very likely. Let’s keep going and see what we find."

This time, the staircase was exceptionally long.

And unlike the previous two flights, this staircase was like a bottomless shaft, leading down into the most hidden depths of a person’s soul.

When they finally reached the bottom, Duan Fei pushed the door open and discovered the floor number outside had changed to 17.

They had finally escaped the infinite eighteenth floor.

Seeing the seventeenth floor, Jinghong said, "The seventeenth level of Hell is the Hell of Theft. This means the people here must have committed a crime related to stealing."

"Yeah, let’s take a look."

Peering through the window, they saw the situation inside had changed.

The family of three was no longer sitting together for a meal; the room was shrouded in gloom.

The wife, her face ashen, sat on the edge of the bed by the window, calmly gazing outside.

The husband, meanwhile, clutched three pieces of paper. His expression was still perfectly calm, but the pages in his hand were soaked with tears.

The door to the room on this floor wasn’t closed, so the two of them could walk into this still, photograph-like world to peer into the truth behind the instance.

Looking at the papers in the husband’s hands, Duan Fei sighed.

A meteor doesn’t strike the same crater twice, but misfortune can certainly strike twice.

Two medical diagnoses. Both were for brain cancer.

One for the wife, one for the child.

The third sheet was a notice from an insurance company: "Dear Mr. Sun, after our investigation, we have determined that brain cancer is a hereditary disease in your wife’s family. As this was not disclosed prior to the purchase of the policy, we will not be covering her medical expenses."

That one sentence extinguished all hope of continuing treatment, revealing the insurance company’s profound malice.

Failing to properly investigate was the insurance company’s own dereliction of duty, but they simply wanted to let the wife and son die to cut costs.

After all, funeral expenses were much lower than treatment costs.

Capital never had a conscience. Those who did are long dead.

Jinghong, meanwhile, walked to the bedside and saw the wife looking out the window.

Outside the window, beyond the apartment building, cars were lined up in neat rows. Their five-year-old son was holding a pair of wire cutters he’d brought from home, eager to snip at anything and everything.

In the next scene, the boy was under his father’s car, imitating his father’s movements as he "fixed" it.

Jinghong could imagine the scene. ’A five-year-old child only knows how to imitate. With a pair of wire cutters in his hand, what would he do?’

’What would he cut?’

Duan Fei, who was standing to the side, also understood. After a moment of silence, he said, "Let’s go. To the next floor."

As they stepped out the door, preparing to head to the next floor, Jinghong heard a voice.

"I saw everything. I know. I was the one who told him to cut the wire. I was the one who told him where the brake line was."

Turning her head, Jinghong saw that the wife, who had been looking out the window, had turned to look at her. "I did it willingly," she said softly. "I don’t want him to die."

After saying this, she turned to her grief-stricken husband and said, "I don’t feel well. Take me to the hospital."

At that moment, the previously static husband came to life.

He couldn’t seem to see Duan Fei and Jinghong. He deftly helped his wife to her feet, got the car, and prepared to rush to the hospital.

Arriving on the next floor down, Duan Fei and Jinghong found that the scene in the room had changed again.

On the wall hung the wife’s black-and-white memorial portrait. The son, not yet understanding its significance, tugged on his father’s arm, asking when Mom was coming home.

The father, however, was silent, staring at the check in his hand.

The insurance company could probably guess something was fishy, but they were in the wrong to begin with. Besides, paying out a smaller claim was already a win for them.

Therefore, they readily paid for the son’s medical treatments, on the condition that the father guaranteed the matter was settled and that neither party would trouble the other again.

Trading her own life for her son’s—this was the mother’s final choice.

Once they understood the truth, Duan Fei and Jinghong felt as if they were kicked out of the apartment building, flying like rubber balls before landing in a white psychiatrist’s office.

The two people in the room didn’t see them arrive, as if the pair were transparent.

The young man lying on the long sofa was the son, now all grown up. He seemed to have just woken up. Rubbing his head, he said to the psychiatrist beside him, "I remember now."

The psychiatrist was not Chinese, but a blonde, blue-eyed woman who looked to be of Slavic descent.

She gave a professional nod and said, "Yes, I heard."

"No wonder I’ve always felt so guilty toward my father. I always thought he was responsible for my mother’s death, but it was actually..."

"It was your mother’s choice. Besides, the story is so bizarre, no one would likely believe you."

"Who do you think was in the wrong?"

"...I can’t answer that question."

"Then what should I do now?"

"I’m not going to make you forget this, but please remember, your life was bought with your mother’s. I hope you can properly cherish yourself, cherish this one life you have."

"Thank you, I will. Do you think... should I tell my father the truth about what happened?"

"I would advise against it. Let it be a secret between you two. Besides, are you certain your father doesn’t know?"

The young man froze for a moment, then offered his sincere thanks.

After leaving the room, he took a deep breath, picked up his phone, and dialed a number he hadn’t called in a very long time.

When the call connected, both he and the person on the other end were silent for a long while. Finally, he spoke, "Dad... take care of yourself."

"Okay."

"This international call is expensive, so I’ll hang up now."

"Okay."

Watching the young man hang up with a melancholy expression, the floating Jinghong grew sentimental.

"Duan Fei, did we just get the bad ending?"

"We did. But knowing the developers’ usual tendencies, nothing we did could have changed the outcome. We were just taking a trip through the main character’s Spirit world. You can’t use memories to influence reality."

"How pitiful. He finally learns the truth of what happened, but he can’t thank his mother anymore."

"Nothing to be done... Wait, why haven’t we left the instance yet? And what about the Skill the Divination Master promised?"

Just as Duan Fei was feeling puzzled, he felt everything around him begin to recede. The river of time started to reverse in a strange way, dragging him and Jinghong relentlessly into the past.

When they came to their senses, they found themselves in the parking lot outside the apartment building. A five-year-old boy was staring at the two of them, who had just appeared, and the wire cutters he was holding slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground.

"Who are you!" the little boy shouted in surprise. "Terminators? Future Warriors? Can... you... speak... Hanyu? Sumimasen?"

"And who are you? Don’t tell me this instance is just starting now!"

As the three of them were shouting in surprise, the clothes of the young man from the future had already changed.

His original clothes had transformed into a black-and-white butler’s uniform, and a monocle was now perched over his left eye.

The wish he obtained after reaching "the·end"—the final destination—was used here to bring his mother back.

Reaching the "final destination" is a prerequisite for any administrator to become official.

It is a very special area, so special that every administrator is incredibly secretive about how to get there, and each person’s method of arrival is different.

The young man had been on the verge of reaching the final destination, but he had always carried a deep-seated emotional block. This block had formed a great labyrinth, keeping him trapped within.

Just a moment ago, the young man had finally recalled his deepest secret. Unraveling this emotional block caused the labyrinth in his mind to vanish, allowing him to truly reach the final destination and become an official administrator.

Upon becoming official, an administrator can receive one wish from the Abyss. This wish will be granted no matter how outrageous, with the only restriction being that it cannot cause death.

Furthermore, the more difficult the wish is to fulfill, the higher the price that must be paid.

This price can be fronted by the administrative team, but the cost is having to work for them for a very long time for no pay.

But if it meant saving his mother, it was all worth it.

After using his new administrator privileges to look into the full story, the young man clutched his head in resignation.

’Divination Master, you’re too good at scheming.’

’You sent Duan Fei and Jinghong here to make me owe them a favor.’

’You helped me become an official administrator, strengthening the administrative team and making them owe you a favor.’

’She created a whole web of favors just by talking. You really can’t underestimate these older-generation players.’

’But what can you do? The chance to be indebted to the Divination Master is something many people couldn’t get even if they begged for it.’

With a snap of his fingers, the young man left that world and headed to the city to report to the administrative team.

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