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Bonus chapter! Thank you to Min for the donation! ^^
***
The mockery in the man's tone was unmistakable to anyone listening.
Lin Zhiyan glanced sideways at him, somewhat puzzled by the remark.
But the man didn’t elaborate. He didn’t pause, either—not even as he spoke—simply continuing on his way with his entourage until they disappeared from the tenth floor.
Lin Zhiyan withdrew his gaze, his eyes shifting to the office’s kicked-in door. He spoke carelessly, as if commenting on the weather:
"Take care of the people around him."
His tone was indifferent, but the words sent a chill down the spine.
Because "take care of" most likely meant kill.
"Understood, Mr. Lin." The staff member, now devoid of the deference he’d shown Mr. Qi earlier, bowed slightly before vanishing from the office.
Silence settled over the room once more.
Lin Zhiyan walked to the desk, picked up the two guests’ files, and tore them apart without expression.
Watching as Lin Zhiyan tossed the shredded documents aside like trash, the remaining staff member ventured cautiously, "Mr. Lin, it’s half an hour until ten. Should… the ship still be searched?"
Lin Zhiyan’s icy gaze paused. He lowered his eyes slowly to the desk.
It was cluttered with documents—ship schematics, cruise itineraries, operational logs—but one file was conspicuously missing.
The one belonging to that boy.
Clearly, someone had taken it. And that someone, in all likelihood, was the boy himself.
He’d told him to wait in the office.
Still so disobedient.
A flicker of something crossed Lin Zhiyan’s expression. The coldness from earlier faded, replaced by something almost… amused.
"Of course we’re searching."
"I’ll handle it personally."
With that, he turned and strode out of the office, entirely unaware of the faint trace of orchid fragrance lingering near the desk—the very "perfume" the man had sneered at.
The man had assumed it was Lin Zhiyan’s.
Lin Zhiyan hadn’t understood.
The staff member followed wordlessly in his wake, leaving the office empty behind them.
***
The office fell silent once more. Only after confirming that no one remained did Ruan Qing quietly emerge from beneath the desk.
Lin Zhiyan could return at any moment, and there was always the risk of him checking the surveillance footage—which would immediately reveal Ruan Qing's presence in the office.
He had to find a way to "die" before Lin Zhiyan discovered him, cutting all ties with both Lin Zhiyan and that suspicious ex-sugar daddy, Mr. Qi.
The elevator on the tenth floor required an access card to operate, whether going up or down.
As soon as Ruan Qing stepped inside, he pulled out a keycard—one he had discreetly lifted from a staff member earlier when they escorted him upstairs.
The System observed Ruan Qing's meticulous planning and couldn't help but comment in his mind, [You seem... much more focused than before.]
In the past, this young man had been passive, reacting only when danger forced his hand. Unless a threat was imminent, he rarely strategized or planned ahead—even in the horror-based instances he feared most. Sometimes, he would even hypnotize himself into ignoring the anomalies around him.
He was running away.
People cope with fear differently. Some confront it head-on, pushing through to overcome it.
Others choose to escape.
Ruan Qing was clearly the latter. He had always avoided his fears—so much so that in nearly every ghost-related instance, he resorted to self-hypnosis to numb his terror.
Afraid of ghosts, afraid of death—and yet, not entirely afraid of death.
At times, it was hard to detect any real will to survive in him, as if he existed without desires or attachments.
Just like when they first met—he hadn’t cared whether he lived or died. The only thing that seemed to frighten him was the idea of regaining lost memories.
But this time, from the very beginning, he had actively worked to shed his NPC identity, carefully plotting his next moves with a level of determination he’d never shown before.
Ruan Qing paused briefly after hearing the System’s voice, his finger hovering over the button for the second floor. 'I just don’t feel like dying anymore.'
In the past, survival hadn’t mattered to him—as long as he didn’t perish in a ghost-infested instance, that was enough.
But now, he didn’t want to die.
Maybe it was because that snowfall had been so beautiful. Or maybe the wind that day had been too gentle.
It made him want to keep a promise—one whose details he couldn’t remember, nor even the person he’d made it to.
It was a promise so deeply ingrained that even after countless memory losses, fragments of it would still resurface in his mind.
Ruan Qing's intuition told him the person he was meant to meet was connected to all of this.
This time, he didn't even consider returning to his room. Upon reaching the second floor, he headed straight for the deck, no longer caring whether anyone saw him.
While this approach might not guarantee his death within the staff's line of sight, he could at least leave behind evidence suggesting he'd fallen overboard accidentally. As long as he was "presumed dead," the effect would be the same.
However, what Ruan Qing hadn't anticipated was that the door leading to the deck was locked.
The deck access door was nothing like ordinary doors. Constructed from the same specialized material as the ship's hull, it was virtually impossible to break through by force.
Moreover, the lock wasn't a standard mechanism—like all other doors on the ship, it used an electronic keypad system requiring both authorization and a password to open.
Even if Ruan Qing had a computer, it wouldn't help. The original host had studied fine arts in university and wouldn't possess the technical skills to hack the system.
The deck was no longer an option.
His choices now were either to wait until daytime when the deck reopened to stage his death, or to devise an alternative plan immediately.
Due to the earlier announcement, most guests had already returned to their rooms, leaving few people lingering outside besides staff members.
Besides accidental drowning or an explosion, few methods of "death" could convincingly explain the absence of a body.
Ruan Qing lowered his gaze, staring at the invitation in his hand, and ultimately decided to focus on surviving the night first.
The invitation belonged to the guest who had died that afternoon. While searching the body for clues, Ruan Qing had casually pocketed it.
At the time, everyone had been too preoccupied with investigating the cause of death to notice the missing invitation.
Although taking the invitation was one thing, visiting the deceased guest's room was out of the question—that would immediately raise suspicions.
Ruan Qing changed back into the student's outfit he'd worn earlier, pulled on the same black baseball cap, and quietly made his way toward the players' quarters.
The players' rooms were scattered across floors three through six, spread throughout various corners of the cruise ship.
But Ruan Qing remembered the short-haired girl's room—and the nearby quarters of other players.
He'd made a mental note earlier: The man in the suit had been assigned a room close to hers.
Since the girl with the short hair was female and also had a younger brother with her, going to her room wouldn't be appropriate. The most suitable option was the male player in the suit.
Pulling his cap lower, Ruan Qing knocked on the man in the suit's door.
However, no one answered. Instead, faint movement sounded from not far behind him.
Instinctively, Ruan Qing turned to look.
A door not far from him had cracked open slightly, someone peering through the gap in his direction.
It was Ran Jia. When she saw it was Ruan Qing knocking, she looked surprised.
After opening the door, she cautiously scanned her surroundings before carefully gesturing for him to come over.
Ruan Qing hesitated but ultimately ignored her beckoning, turning back to knock on the man in the suit's door again.
Seeing this, Ran Jia looked disappointed. Just as she was about to close her door, someone abruptly shoved her out from behind.
It happened too suddenly—Ran Jia barely had time to react, nearly stumbling to the floor.
Once she steadied herself, she instinctively turned around and saw a young man standing inside the room, staring at her with an impassive expression.
The boy was strikingly handsome, his delicate features paired with a sickly pale complexion. But his gaze was dark and unfathomable as he tilted his chin toward the figure in the distance, then silently mouthed, word by word:
"I."
"Want."
"Him."
Ran Jia didn’t know lip-reading, but in that moment, she understood perfectly. Her eyes widened in shock, disbelief written across her face.
Yet the young man wasn’t joking—his face remained cold as he stared at the black-capped boy in the distance, the shadows in his eyes unsettling enough to send a chill down her spine.
But due to the angle, no one else could see the boy standing inside the room.
Nor could they see the terrifying look in his eyes.
Ran Jia swallowed hard, her throat dry. She glanced back at the boy knocking on the door, conflict and hesitation flickering in her gaze.
But in the end, she still approached the young man.
Ran Jia softened her footsteps as she drew near Ruan Qing, then spoke in a hushed voice, "Big shot... he seems to have gone out to investigate clues. Did you need something?"
Without waiting for his reply, she continued pleadingly, her eyes brimming with desperation, "Big shot... maybe you could stay with us tonight?"
Her voice trembled with unease and fear, each word quivering slightly.
"My little brother and I... we're... we're too weak. We might not survive tonight."
