***
Bonus chapter! Thank you to Zzz for the donation! ^^
***
"Mmm… ah…"
The distorted moans coming through the headphones were enough to make anyone’s heart race, conjuring indecent images in the mind against all self-control.
The bus was too crowded. Even with a mask and headphones on, Ruan Qing still felt uneasy, tugging his cap lower over his face.
His thin lips pressed tightly together, his pale fingers clutching the headphones as if afraid someone might hear.
In reality, the bus was far too noisy for anyone to pick up on the faint sounds from his headphones. But listening to something like this in public was enough to unsettle anyone—even Ruan Qing.
Especially since it was his own voice.
His fingers curled stiffly under his sleeves, his slender body tense. He didn’t want to listen, but the sounds kept playing in his ears.
"Ah… hah…"
"N-no… stop…"
His usually cool, clear voice was now thin and trembling, laced with breathy gasps—soft and seductive, enough to make anyone willingly drown in it.
A voice like that begging for mercy only poured fuel on the fire.
And indeed, the owner of that voice received no gentleness in return. By the end, his pleas were ragged with sobs and hoarseness, as if he truly couldn’t take it anymore.
Even without seeing, it was clear the boy was on the verge of tears.
Yet the one "tormenting" him was merciless. Even now, he didn’t let up—if anything, he seemed to seize the chance to make even more outrageous demands.
The boy knew how unreasonable the other was, but he could only beg weakly, his voice pitiful and broken.
"Please… ngh…"
"H-husband… ah…"
But the title earned him no reprieve—only more shattered whimpers and breathless, overwhelmed gasps.
That voice was like the most potent aphrodisiac, stirring the fiercest desires in the heart. Once desire broke free from its cage, nothing could restrain it.
[F*ck, f*ck, f*ck! Why can’t we hear too?! Damn this stupid livestream—I’m reporting it!]
[I get it now. The wife is the game company owner’s wife, right? Every time things get to this point, either the sound cuts out or the screen goes black. So damn possessive—can’t even let us see a fraction of it!]
[Hey, wait, is my wife embarrassed? His ears seem to be turning red.]
[No way my wife is embarrassed—that’s just from pressing the headphones too hard.]
Before he knew it, Ruan Qing had already reached the final stop. The distorted voice on his phone hadn’t stopped the entire time, showing no signs of impending death.
This wasn’t a death premonition at all. It was just an obscene, filthy phone call—the first malfunction of the 4444 hotline.
Maybe the 4444 hotline didn’t predict death at all. Maybe it predicted… the future.
The call never disconnected, lingering on and on until the sky darkened completely, until Ruan Qing was the only one left on the bus.
Finally, the voice stopped.
Ruan Qing lowered his eyes and asked softly, “Are you done?”
There was no response—it seemed like no one had been on the other end for a while.
Nearly five minutes later, the voice spoke again.
“On the day of the freshman orientation ceremony, someone died.”
The man’s voice was deeper and hoarser than usual, as if he was holding something back. The moment he finished speaking, the call abruptly ended.
With the call disconnected, the eerie horror movie soundtrack started playing again. Ruan Qing immediately yanked off his headphones and rubbed his slightly reddened ears, expressionless.
Damn bastard.
The man’s “clue” was useless—Ruan Qing had already guessed that someone had died. And that someone was probably the man on the other end of the call.
Which meant he’d listened for nothing.
The bus had already looped around the city several times. This time, Ruan Qing got off at the final stop and headed to a random internet café.
If the man had ever existed, there had to be traces. There had to be a way to find his name.
Ruan Qing pulled up the freshman roster from that year and combed through every name. Not a single person had died on the day of the opening ceremony.
Clearly, the name of the dead man was missing from the list.
Ruan Qing lowered his eyes and thought for a moment, then hacked directly into the college entrance exam's admission system. He pulled up the list of all students admitted to this university, as well as the admission quotas for each province.
This university was one of the top-ranked in the country, and very few who got in would choose not to attend. Ruan Qing filtered out the cases where the number of admitted students didn’t match the quotas, as well as those who hadn’t enrolled.
For the students who didn’t enroll, their whereabouts could all be traced—none had died, and none showed any irregularities.
The only real discrepancy was in Province G.
Province G’s admission quota was 33 students, and none of the admitted students had declined enrollment. Yet, only 32 students appeared in the university’s system.
One person was missing.
It was impossible for the university to have reduced the quota last minute, nor could only 32 students have applied. It seemed as though someone had been completely erased.
And not just erased recently—traces of this person had been wiped from the very beginning. Even in the college entrance exam records, there was no sign of them. The only clue was that this person was likely Province G’s top scorer.
Ruan Qing curled up in his chair, lost in thought as he nibbled on his thumb.
This was probably the dungeon’s doing—it had erased all traces of that person. Even knowing someone was missing, it was impossible to uncover their identity through real-world investigation.
But there was still a chance.
Those who died in this dungeon, if manifested in the Nightmare World, would retain a sliver of consciousness. That might be the only way.
However, this would mean confronting the dungeon boss directly, and the slightest misstep could be fatal.
Lack of rest had left Ruan Qing’s eyes faintly reddened at the corners, his entire being so fragile it seemed he might vanish like smoke in the wind. He looked pitifully vulnerable.
He couldn’t hold on much longer.
Taking a deep breath, Ruan Qing finally chose to enter the dream.
***
The newly opened university campus was bustling with activity, nearly all the students gathered on the field—today was the freshman orientation ceremony.
“Hey, did you hear? The top scorer from Province G is at this school too!”
A nearby student responded excitedly, “Of course! And I heard he’ll be giving a speech on behalf of the freshmen later!”
Another student sighed in admiration. “He’s insane—scoring 749 out of 750? How does a brain even work like that?”
If anyone had seen this scene, they would have been utterly horrified—because every student on the field matched the real students perfectly, without a single error.
In the nightmare world, anything materialized must exist in the mind, something the dreamer is familiar with.
In other words, the person who materialized this nightmare world had memorized every single freshman, perfectly recreating the scene from the opening ceremony that day.
And yet, no one had noticed this fact.
"Next, let us welcome the freshman representative to give their speech," the host announced with a smile.
Ruan Qing stood among the rows of students. When he heard the words "freshman representative," he immediately looked up toward the platform at the front of the field.
After the host's introduction, a figure slowly walked onto the stage. He was breathtakingly handsome, dressed in a simple, clean white shirt, his steps calm and composed, exuding an air of noble elegance.
This was undoubtedly a prodigy—whether in academics or appearance.
The moment Ruan Qing saw him, he finally understood why there were so many copies of the System in this dungeon.
If the dungeon's boss was originally a copy of the System, then the corrupted copies would naturally also be the System’s duplicates.
The fact that it could replace the dungeon boss and become the new one proved that the System had already broken through his restrictions. It was becoming the true master of this game.
No wonder he no longer cared whether Ruan Qing cleared the dungeon or not. No wonder he had acted the way he did in the last dungeon. When power reached a certain level, there was no need to follow the rules anymore.
Perhaps Ruan Qing’s gaze was too intense—or maybe it was just a coincidence—but the person on stage turned his head slightly and looked indifferently in Ruan Qing’s direction.
It was as if, transcending time and space, he had spotted him among countless people in an instant.
Ruan Qing’s beautiful eyes widened slightly. A gentle breeze swept past, lifting strands of his hair. Time seemed to freeze in that moment, the entire world fading into the background, leaving only the two of them—one on stage, one below.
Love is a feeling, never just a memory.
Memories can deceive, even the subconscious cannot be trusted.
But the heart—never lies.
Deep down, Ruan Qing had already known the answer. This person… was probably the one he would have kept his promise to, even if he had lost all his memories.
He stood him up.
So, he came.
The male student had already begun his speech, yet despite that, his gaze never strayed from Ruan Qing’s direction—burning, impossible to ignore, as if it could pierce straight into the depths of one’s heart.
The scene felt both unfamiliar and eerily familiar. Logically, this was the first time, yet it seemed as though it had already happened countless times before.
Ruan Qing’s eyelashes trembled slightly. He pressed his lower lip between his teeth, a little unnaturally, before finally, as the wind brushed past again, offering the male student a faint smile.
It was a subtle smile, yet pure and gentle—so utterly sincere that it seemed to dim the world around it.
The previously composed male student stumbled over his words, his mind going blank as he fumbled through his speech.
And in that split second of distraction, the scaffolding above him collapsed, crashing down with brutal force.
Ruan Qing’s heart nearly stopped. His eyes widened, and he instinctively took a few steps forward, ready to rush in and save him—
Until he bumped into the student standing in front of him. Only then did he remember: this was the nightmare world. The real person… had already died long ago.
The once-confident male student now lay in a pool of blood, his body twisted and shattered beneath the wreckage. The crimson stain spread beneath him, a horrifying, grotesque sight.
His torso had been nearly severed—death must have been instantaneous. Yet, even so, his eyes remained fixed on a certain spot in the audience, refusing to close, even in death.
