There Must Be Something Wrong With This Game!

Sinful City, in an underground bunker.

The Sin President was curled up here, nervously watching the monitors.

This was his safe house, and only he knew its location. At a thousand meters underground, it was deep enough to withstand any attack, satellite weapons included.

It had ample food and water, along with a small, built-in thermal power station guaranteed to keep it running for over a hundred years.

But despite all this, he was still scared out of his wits.

He had already lost most of his hair, much of it having fallen out during the electromagnetic interference just a moment ago.

Although the surveillance feed was back online, the tension from that moment lingered, leaving him gasping for breath. It was a long time before he finally calmed down.

Biting his ragged thumbnail, the Sin President stared at the screen and whispered, "It’s fine. Nothing’s going to happen to me. The distortion force field can’t be breached. My Werewolves are incredibly powerful. The enemy is a spent force. I don’t need to be afraid."

After trying his best to reassure himself, he suddenly clutched his head and screamed, "No, that’s not right! How many of them are there?! Why hasn’t anyone come to tell me?!"

Staring at the button beside him, he muttered, ’No way. If they catch me, they’ll definitely stitch my brain into a dog, then swap my mouth and my asshole, just like I used to do all the time. I can’t get caught. I should just detonate the nuke. Let the happy little nuke blossom over Sinful City. We can all ascend to heaven together, nice and happy.’

Panting as he stared at the button, he pressed his finger down on it, fantasizing about the thrill of a nuclear explosion. Dopamine flooded his brain, turning him into a madman capable only of giggling foolishly.

Suddenly, the room’s intercom blared. The unexpected sound made him jump, and the detonator slipped from his hand, nearly being activated as it fell.

In the nick of time, he managed to stop the red switch with his foot, coming fractions of an inch away from detonating all the nuclear bombs beneath Sinful City.

"What the hell do you think you’re doing!" the Sin President roared. "We were almost finished!"

"I wouldn’t advise playing with the nuclear detonator," the secretary’s cold voice sounded from the intercom. "Though it makes no difference to me. I’m missing half a brain, after all."

"Fine, you’re forgiven. What do you want?"

"Unit 450 is submitting a group petition. They state they have encountered an unsolvable problem and are in urgent need of an extra brain. They don’t need much—just enough to piece one whole brain together for the entire squad."

"What do they want?! They want a brain today, so does that mean they’ll want my brain tomorrow?! Tell them they’re just my slaves! Slaves don’t need brains."

Furious, the Sin President ended the call and went back to staring at the nuclear button, still agonizing over whether to press it.

Suddenly, a door materialized out of thin air. An old man festooned with clocks stepped through it and instantly spotted the Sin President, who was curled up with a foolish grin on his face.

Stroking his chin, the Clockmaker looked at the man. ’He looks just like a slug,’ he thought.

’Cold, damp, and disgustingly slimy.’

The Clockmaker’s sudden appearance made the Sin President let out a choked scream. He waved the nuclear detonator around like a little girl and shrieked, "Stay back! I’ll press it! I’ll really do it!"

Behind the Clockmaker, Nemo watched the lunatic Sin President and said with a sigh of resignation, "And this guy is a president?"

"Is there some rule that says a president has to be wise, mighty, and exceptionally charismatic?" the Clockmaker asked with a laugh.

Nemo frowned. "But at least he could look the part. This sort of thing makes me question the logic of this game."

"A game... Heh."

With a meaningful laugh, the Clockmaker crouched in front of the Sin President, who was now foaming at the mouth and babbling incoherently. "It’s been a while," he said with a smile. "Do you still remember me?"

The Sin President seemed to snap out of a trance. He threw himself before the old man. "Clockmaker! It’s really you! We haven’t seen each other in a year, have we! Someone’s trying to kill me! Are you here to help?"

"I could lie to you, but I see no need. I’m just here to see if you’re still alive. And to get something from you, incidentally."

The Sin President’s eyes lit up. "You care whether I’m alive! You really are my best friend!"

Their twisted relationship left Nemo horrified and the Clockmaker looking utterly exasperated.

Shaking his head, he said to the Sin President, "Are the Werewolves working out? Can I see your experiment results?"

"The Werewolves are really effective, but now they’re trying to rebel! They’re demanding a brain!"

The Clockmaker took the lab report from the Sin President and began to read it carefully, poring over the pages, nodding at times and shaking his head at others.

While the Clockmaker read the report, the Sin President remained prostrated beside him like a devout follower, worshipping the old man in reverent awe.

Noticing their strange dynamic, Nemo asked quizzically, "Clockmaker, what exactly is your relationship with him?"

"You could call us mentor and apprentice, though he seems to worship me like I’m God. Just as you research Pseudo-men, I research human beings. I helped him become president of the Sinful Corporation, taught him the method for creating Werewolves, and had him research the human brain from that angle. It looks like he’s done a decent job. He may be a pathetic little worm, but some of his research is actually quite good."

"That’s right, I am a pathetic worm! Please, scold me more," the Sin President said with feverish devotion.

Nemo watched curiously for a moment and realized the documents the Clockmaker was reviewing were covered in pixelation.

’That must mean the contents are incredibly bloody and violent,’ he realized. ’Stuff I’m not supposed to see.’

After leafing through the report for a little longer, the Clockmaker put it away and hauled the maggot-like Sin President up from the floor.

"I only just learned you’re in the middle of a war, so I won’t trouble you with certain matters."

"You have to trouble me!" the Sin President yelled, grabbing the Clockmaker’s arm. "I’m your friend! You must entrust your most troublesome tasks to me!"

"Fine, then. I have a new batch of ’creations’ I need you to help me test."

He stepped aside, and one by one, puppets emerged from behind the door, their faces blank as they stared at the Sin President.

Watching these puppets that moved but were clearly not human, the Sin President asked in astonishment, "What are they?"

"Cursed Puppets. They’re a type of Pseudo-man. The Werewolves you’ve made are already not very human, so I’d like to see if they can fuse with the Cursed Puppets and create some new variation. However, there’s a high probability this will cause all the Werewolves to develop cyber-psychosis. What do you think...?"

"It doesn’t matter what I think! It only matters what you think! As long as you think it’s okay, then it’s fine with me! I’ll call the Werewolves over right now!"

As the Sin President excitedly ran out to summon his men, Nemo looked at the old man and said, "You have even greater Divine Powers than I imagined."

"Manipulating the hearts of men? It’s quite simple, really," the Clockmaker said with a smile.

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