Xingwang Hotel
Chapter 370: The banquet is about to begin.
The Gentleman and his team hurriedly made their way toward Room 103.
“Strange,” one of the teammates said, puzzled. “If the other side had the chance to subdue the Captain, why not just kill him and end the confrontation match immediately? Asking us for the key seems like an unnecessary step.”
He speculated, “Could it be the group that hasn’t become official employees—”
“Hmph, them?” another teammate sneered, his face full of disdain. “If they had the ability to find the [Lock] and control the Captain, they wouldn’t still be without official employee badges by now.”
“True…” The first teammate paused, taken aback.
“Besides,” another chimed in, “given the Captain’s temperament and methods, if he were facing a weak opponent, he’d have already taken the initiative and snatched the [Lock] from them. So, the opponent must be formidable. On the Red Faction, the only heavyweights are that Pinocchio and Bai Xue.”
The Gentleman listened to their conversation without speaking.
In truth, he had his own judgment.
In their previous skirmish, the Red Faction had uncharacteristically launched an aggressive assault, even managing to scatter their team just moments ago. But beneath that seemingly unstoppable facade, the Gentleman had keenly sensed something amiss.
This wasn’t the style of the cunning trickster who had toyed with them in countless past instances.
Of course, it could be another of his elaborate ruses, but the Gentleman had a gut feeling—this time, the one calling the shots wasn’t the familiar No. 08.
He was definitely not dead, just temporarily absent from the team.
For most anchors, this instance was merely a faction war, but for people like them, it was a covert confrontation match. No. 08 Pinocchio and the former No. 08 Anise were the contenders standing on opposite ends of the ring.
If either of them died, the confrontation match would end instantly.
But so far, the Gentleman had received no such news.
Without a captain, the Red Faction’s threat was reduced by more than half.
From the Gentleman’s observations, the Red Faction hadn’t adopted their strategy of strictly controlling the number of official employees. Instead, they had rallied a large number of anchors.
These people were the “ingredients” for the instance, destined to die in the final stage, whether the confrontation match ended or not.
That’s why they had trapped Anise, trying to coerce them into handing over the key.
Only by doing so could they secure victory while keeping the majority of their recruits.
Since Pinocchio wasn’t involved this time, their side could move more freely.
Even so, as experienced as he was, the Gentleman didn’t let his guard down.
He opened his palm, and a brass key materialized in his hand.
It wasn’t the real one—just a fake he’d replicated using a prop.
He planned to play along with the enemy’s intentions, using the fake key to lower their guard, then work with Anise from the inside to reap double the rewards.
“We’re almost there,” he said, glancing at the room number nearby.
They were nearing Room 103.
But at that moment, urgent, unfamiliar footsteps echoed from a side corridor.
“?!”
The Gentleman tensed, instantly understanding the situation.
It was the Red Faction!
They’d been ambushed!
As he realized the identity of the newcomers, they clearly noticed his team as well.
In the dark, narrow corridor, the two opposing sides met head-on.
The atmosphere turned icy and tense, thick with the smell of gunpowder. In a flash, the clash erupted without warning.
“Zzt—”
The overhead lights flickered with a faint electric hum, then exploded under the interference of various props, plunging the narrow corridor into pitch-black darkness.
It was a chaotic skirmish neither side had anticipated.
The Red Faction hesitated, wary of Wen Jianyan in the enemy’s hands, while the Black Faction was equally cautious about their controlled Captain. Neither dared to strike a killing blow.
With both captains absent and critical information missing, both sides fought with restraint, unable to unleash their most dangerous props or talents.
The clash started abruptly and ended just as suddenly, brief and more like a probe than a battle.
In the fleeting exchange, both sides quickly pulled back.
“Retreat,” the Gentleman said, reacting swiftly.
In an ambush like this, they didn’t know the enemy’s setup or intentions. As the ambushed party, the best course was to disengage quickly and regroup.
“Yes!” his teammates responded.
Though the Red Faction had far more members, the Black Faction’s combat experience, props, and resource allocation were vastly superior. They couldn’t win outright due to the numbers gap, but if their goal was to escape, the Red Faction couldn’t force them to stay.
Using the complex corridor layout, the Gentleman led his team away from the danger zone.
The Red Faction and their erratic temporary captain were left far behind, unable to catch up.
Once they confirmed their safety, they stopped.
“What happened?” A teammate asked, frowning at the Gentleman. “How did the Red Faction ambush us just now?”
Encountering the Red Faction was expected, but their immediate, unhesitating assault was truly surprising.
There was no attempt at negotiation, no demand for the key…
Everything felt deeply strange.
“Could it… all be a trap?” One team member speculated grimly. “What if their goal wasn’t the key but to lure us here and wipe us out?”
“Now that you mention it, something odd happened,” said another, clutching his right arm where the sleeve was torn, revealing a bloody gash from thorn-like wounds.
He frowned and continued, “When I got close to the enemy, that crazy woman asked me where their captain was…”
The Gentleman’s brow furrowed sharply.
What did that mean?
Why would the Red Faction think their captain was in their hands?
The corridor was damp and heavy with a chilling atmosphere that sent shivers down the spine.
The Gentleman’s brow remained tightly knit.
The joy from receiving Anise’s message earlier had cooled, replaced by suspicion that hardened like cold cement, weighing heavily on his heart.
He caught a whiff of something ominous.
Contradictory claims, missing information, chaotic circumstances…
It all felt eerily familiar.
Before entering the instance, the Gentleman had tracked down every anchor who had ever crossed paths with Pinocchio, using his extensive network to study and analyze this mysterious rising star. He had meticulously dissected Pinocchio’s methods. Yet, even so, they had been outmaneuvered twice since entering the instance.
The Gentleman’s wariness of Pinocchio was at its peak.
He keenly sensed that behind this chaos lurked a shadowy manipulator.
“…Pinocchio,” the Gentleman muttered, enunciating each syllable of his opponent’s name.
“What?” His teammates froze, startled.
The Gentleman offered no explanation.
He extended his hand, activating his duplication prop. In moments, several brass keys materialized in his palm.
“Each of you, take one.”
Since he had identified the mastermind, they needed to heighten their vigilance to the maximum, handling everything with utmost caution to leave no openings for that man.
The Gentleman narrowed his eyes, shedding his usual tiger-like smile for a grim, serious expression.
Suddenly, a surprised voice called from behind: “Mr. Gentleman?!”
“?!”
Everyone flinched, spinning toward the source of the voice.
“It’s a Black Faction anchor,” one teammate whispered in the Gentleman’s ear.
“Mr. Gentleman, Mr. Anise has been waiting for you!” The figure hurried forward, his face alight with joy. “He’s in—”
“Seize him,” the Gentleman ordered coldly.
“Wait, wait a second—” The man’s face twisted in shock, but in an instant, he was restrained and pinned in place.
“Mr. Gentleman, what’s this about? We’re on the same team!”
As he stammered in panic, someone retrieved a Black Faction badge from him and handed it to the Gentleman.
The Gentleman glanced at the black badge with red lettering, confirming it belonged to a formal Black Faction employee.
Correct.
“Where’s your phone?” he asked.
A teammate handed over the phone.
“Unlock it,” the Gentleman commanded, looking down at the man.
The anchor shakily unlocked the screen.
It was indeed a Black Faction device.
Only then did the Gentleman confirm his identity, nodding to his team to release the man.
The anchor stood unsteadily, his face still etched with the panic of a startled bird. “What… what’s going on?”
“Why don’t you tell me?” The Gentleman stepped forward, his usually smiling face now radiating an intangible pressure.
The man was utterly confused. “Wait, didn’t Mr. Anise notify you to come? He captured someone from the Red Faction posing as him—”
…What?
Everyone froze.
Oddly, this aligned with what the Red Faction had implied during their earlier encounter.
According to both sides, Pinocchio had been captured, and Anise held the upper hand.
“Where?” the Gentleman asked.
“Here, right here,” the man said, turning to lead the way hurriedly.
The Gentleman’s team exchanged glances and followed.
Soon, after rounding a corner, the Black Faction member brought them to a door. Other members of his squad waited outside, their faces lighting up at the sight of the Gentleman’s group. “You’re finally here!”
“Verify everyone’s identity,” the Gentleman instructed.
He had heard of Pinocchio’s “exploits” and wouldn’t take any chances here.
His teammates stepped forward, checking each person’s phone for faction affiliation.
All were Black Faction, no doubt.
“Mr. Gentleman, what’s this about?” Confusion spread across their faces. One spoke up: “Didn’t Mr. Anise call you here? We captured the Red Faction’s captain—”
The Gentleman silently stared at the door’s number plate, his expression shifting unpredictably.
It wasn’t 103.
It didn’t match the information they’d received.
“So, the Red Faction’s captain is inside?” The Gentleman asked, turning to the speaker.
“Correct.”
The man nodded eagerly and pushed open the door.
The room was pitch black, filled with a damp odor.
In the center stood an empty chair. Anise, face grim, stood to the side, pale and clutching his injured hand. His menacing expression, like a storm about to break, turned toward them.
He was alone in the room.
“You’re too late,” he said.
“That guy escaped,” Anise gritted his teeth, clenching his fist.
“What exactly happened?” the Gentleman asked, his tone neutral.
“That guy disguised himself as me and, with these brainless idiots, tied me up,” Anise said, his icy gaze sweeping over the Black Faction members near the door. “He said he needed the key, so I sent you the message. But before you arrived, I regained control and broke free.”
His face darkened, as if a sore spot had been prodded. “Didn’t expect him to slip away.”
“But there’s some good news,” he added, tossing and catching a black cube in his hand with a chuckle. “At least I got the [Lock] before he fled.”
Anise turned to the Gentleman. “The key—still with you?”
The Gentleman’s eyes narrowed sharply.
The moment he heard “key,” alarm bells rang in his mind.
“Of course,” he replied.
“Hand it over,” Anise said, extending his hand.
“Sure,” the Gentleman said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “But first, I’ll need you to verify your identity.”
The situation was too chaotic, with every piece of information misaligned. According to the Black Faction and the Red Faction they’d encountered, the real Red Faction captain had been captured. But the “Anise” in the room claimed he was the one captured, and the Red Faction’s captain had orchestrated it all.
Even the message Anise had sent couldn’t be trusted…
The message had directed them to Room 103, but his actual location was Room 121, in a different corridor.
And now, the “Anise” before them claimed his phone was stolen, leaving him unable to prove his identity. Even the initial message might not have come from him.
Every new piece of information contradicted the last, each message clashing and pulling them in opposing directions.
Someone was lying.
More than one person was lying.
Everyone was a suspect, and no one’s words could be trusted.
Aside from the Gentleman, his team clearly shared the same suspicion.
Behind him, every member tensed, hyper-vigilant, as if ready to act at any moment.
“You don’t trust me?” Anise’s face darkened.
“No, no,” the Gentleman shook his head, maintaining his impeccable smile. “Just making sure I’m not played again.”
Anise reached into his pocket, then froze, cursing through gritted teeth. “That bastard stole my phone.”
“Is that so?” The Gentleman’s smile grew even more inscrutable.
Those who knew him recognized this expression—his guard was up higher than ever.
“Open it,” Anise said irritably, tossing the square black box toward him.
The Gentleman blinked but quickly reacted, catching the box mid-air.
In the dim light, the black box gleamed with an eerie hue, cold and heavy in his palm.
He glanced at Anise, then extended a hand to a teammate.
The teammate understood, pulling the real brass key from a concealed pocket and handing it over.
The Gentleman took the key and inserted it into the lock.
It didn’t fit.
The key jammed halfway.
“It’s fake,” the Gentleman said, his lips curling into an unsurprised smile as he handed the key back.
“What?!” Anise exclaimed, shock flashing across his face.
He quickly recovered, his expression darkening. “That bastard…”
At that moment, a Black Faction anchor burst in, panicked. “It’s—it’s the Red Faction! They’ve caught up!”
Gasping, he continued, “They—they’re demanding we hand over their captain—”
As his words fell, the Red Faction arrived silently.
Icy thorns slithered through cracks in the walls, chains sealed both ends of the corridor, and with a series of “pop” sounds, the overhead bulbs shattered, plunging them into darkness.
The Gentleman realized instantly: “Careful, tighten the formation!”
The chaotic situation and uncertainty about his teammates’ identities pushed his alertness to the maximum. He was unwilling to engage in conflict under these circumstances—otherwise, they risked being attacked from both within and without.
The darkness echoed with chaotic footsteps, the sound of props activating, and shouts, some near, some far.
The melee had begun.
Both the corridor and the room were cramped, with people brushing shoulders and colliding, their vision obscured. In the tense, unrelenting darkness, no one noticed a faint *click* from a corner.
In the empty corridor, as the invisibility prop wore off, a figure materialized.
Wen Jianyan strolled leisurely, glancing at the now-open black box in his hand, and let out a cheerful whistle.
Nice.
Success.
The [Integrity First] livestream fell into an eerie silence.
[…]
[…]
[…I’m speechless, friends.]
[I never imagined that after being fooled 800 times, they’d fall for it on the 801st. I’m starting to suspect there’s a script here!!!!]
[But, to be fair, haven’t you noticed? The Black Faction let the anchor pull this off precisely because they were too cautious.]
This was the cornerstone of Wen Jianyan’s strategy.
After being tricked too many times, the Black Faction was nearly impossible to deceive. With the Gentleman, who was familiar with his tactics, among them, any of Wen Jianyan’s usual tricks would be instantly exposed.
So, he decided to do the opposite.
Since the Black Faction was hyper-vigilant toward him, he leaned into it.
He provided a wrong room number, orchestrated the “encounter” between the Black and Red Factions, and even made his presence blatantly obvious. This was to signal: Every step you take from now on might involve me.
Black Faction intel, Red Faction intel, information from their own teammates, and messages from the questionable Anise—each piece contradicted the last, each laced with lies. They clashed and waged war against each other. When projected onto a Black Faction already at peak alertness, the result was inevitable:
No one could be trusted.
They doubted every person they met, every word they heard. Their nerves were stretched to the breaking point, and the slightest disturbance made them paranoid, suspecting traps and conspiracies.
In this state, the more information they received, the more people they encountered, the more overwhelmed they became. Forced to scrutinize every detail for truth, they grew exhausted, fixating on minutiae and overlooking the elephant in the room.
—Wen Jianyan never needed to “obtain the key”. He just needed to borrow it.
He had two tasks.
First, confirm the key’s authenticity.
This seemed simple but was actually the hardest.
Once the Gentleman realized Wen Jianyan was involved, he would focus all his attention and defenses on the key itself.
Given this, two approaches—“negotiating as a kidnapper to trade Anise’s life for the key” or “posing as Anise to access the key when their guard was down”—were unreliable. If he tried the first, the Gentleman would never hand over the real key.
Wen Jianyan was alone in the lion’s den. The Black Faction anchors followed him only because they thought he was Anise. If that lie were exposed, he’d be crushed, with no chance of turning the tables.
The second method had even less chance of success.
As Oracle’s vice-president, the Gentleman likely knew his tactics well. The moment Wen Jianyan asked for the key, the Gentleman’s suspicions would skyrocket.
So, Wen Jianyan chose a third method.
After taking Anise’s phone, he gave Anise a chance to escape.
And in the process, he left a duplicate.
As the only person left in the room, Anise would bear all his teammates’ suspicions. Without the quickest way to prove his identity, everything he said—how he said it—would seem dubious. Even secrets only he and his team knew could be dismissed as deliberate ploys.
After all, this was a world of bizarre props, and no one knew Wen Jianyan’s talent.
Once a anchor, especially a veteran of multiple instances, grew paranoid, their suspicions wouldn’t easily dissipate.
The Gentleman would never hand over the key, so it was Anise’s turn to hand over the box.
After all, he was the only one certain of his own authenticity—and his teammates’.
The moment the box and key were both in hand was the only time the Gentleman’s guard slipped, and Wen Jianyan’s only chance to achieve his goal.
If he tried to open the box…
Wen Jianyan would succeed.
If he chose to leave the room instead, Wen Jianyan would fail.
Everything he’d done would be for nothing.
But based on Wen Jianyan’s predictions, the Gentleman was likely to try opening it.
In this maze of truth and lies, as someone inherently skeptical and now hyper-vigilant, he desperately needed something tangible to hold onto.
The intense curiosity and unease gnawed at him, making it nearly impossible for him to pass up the opportunity presented to him.
As expected, he took the bait.
And in doing so, the Gentleman unwittingly revealed the information Wen Jianyan wanted most: who held the real key and where it ended up.
Wen Jianyan didn’t need to worry about how many fake keys the Gentleman had made, what decoys he’d set, or what tricks he’d employed. The key the Gentleman used in that final moment was, without a doubt, the real one.
Thus, the plan moved to the second step: accessing the real key.
After giving Anise the chance to escape, Wen Jianyan never actually left the room. Instead, he created the illusion of his departure.
In truth, he activated a cloaking prop and remained inside the entire time.
It wasn’t a particularly sophisticated tactic.
A simple wide-range prop could easily reveal his position.
But the key was that, at this stage, the Black Faction was overwhelmed with processing too much conflicting information. With an “Anise” of questionable authenticity standing before them, their attention was forcibly drawn to him.
Their biggest question at that moment was singular: Is Anise real or fake?
An overly bright light can make people overlook obvious clues.
This was the principle of hiding in plain sight.
With everyone’s suspicions, attention, and gazes fixed on Anise, the moment the Red Faction appeared to disrupt the situation was Wen Jianyan’s chance to act.
In short, the entire first floor was a massive crucible, a deliberately muddied pool of water. Layers of lies and conflicting messages wove a bizarre world where no one could discern the truth, and no one had a chance to touch reality.
Amid this chaos, Wen Jianyan fished in troubled waters.
He didn’t even need to take the key—just use it to open the box.
Then, slip away in the darkness.
Wen Jianyan lowered his head, holding his breath slightly, and opened the box in his hand.
The box was small, and in its narrow space lay a single, unremarkable bead.
The bead was pitch-black, shimmering with an impenetrable glow, resembling an eye or something even more profound…
Wen Jianyan’s attention was drawn in, and he couldn’t help but stare deeply into it.
The next second, without warning, a sensation of restraint gripped his ankles.
“?!”
Startled, Wen Jianyan snapped his head up.
The force around his ankles tightened, and in an instant, countless chains surged from all directions, binding him firmly in place.
With a wave of dizziness, Wen Jianyan collapsed to the ground, thoroughly restrained and unable to move.
Sprawled on the floor, panic set in.
No way, really?
After orchestrating such an elaborate scheme, was he going to capsize at the last moment?
But he’d deliberately fled in the opposite direction of the Black Faction!
Wen Jianyan’s face paled.
If only he hadn’t assumed victory so quickly and had escaped faster—
At that moment, a familiar voice came from nearby: “Where’s our captain?”
“…?!”
Wen Jianyan froze, looking up.
Yun Bilan emerged from the corridor’s corner. Thorny patterns had spread across half her face, creeping down her neck, and her eerie red eyes gazed down at him coldly.
“Tell me now, and you might die a little less painfully,” she said.
“???!!!”
Wen Jianyan finally realized his mistake.
He’d forgotten to deactivate his disguise.
The entire process had been so tense and thrilling that he’d overlooked the fact that he was still wearing the costly disguise, which he hadn’t removed.
“Wait, it’s me, it’s me!!” Seeing Yun Bilan approach, Wen Jianyan wriggled on the ground like a caterpillar, shouting in his real voice.
Yun Bilan paused, a stunned expression crossing her face.
Chen Mo, standing in the corner, also froze.
“The chains—loosen them a bit!” Wen Jianyan called out.
Chen Mo hesitated, then slightly relaxed the chains binding Wen Jianyan’s hands.
Wen Jianyan struggled and managed to deactivate the disguise.
In the next moment, he fully reverted to his true appearance.
A disheveled young man with a slender build lay on the ground, bound tightly by chains. His light-colored, moist eyes peered out from under a mask: “It’s really me!!”
He blinked. “My phone’s in my pocket—you can check if you don’t believe me!”
After confirming his identity, Chen Mo finally released his talent, undoing the chains.
Wen Jianyan exhaled in relief, climbing to his feet.
He rotated his wrists, about to say something, when Yun Bilan, suddenly on high alert, grabbed his wrist and yanked him into a deeper part of the corridor, activating a prop to mask their presence.
Chaotic footsteps approached.
The Gentleman, Anise, and their team stormed forward, their faces grim. Clearly, they’d reconciled, figured out Wen Jianyan’s scheme, and were now hot on his trail.
“Hiss…” Wen Jianyan sucked in a breath.
He shouldn’t have underestimated these veteran anchors.
He’d thought returning the key after using it would throw them off, but he hadn’t expected them to unravel his trick so quickly and pursue him at such speed.
Thankfully, he’d run into his teammates first—otherwise, he might not have escaped so smoothly.
The group held their breath, waiting silently.
Soon, the footsteps faded.
Wen Jianyan relaxed, a hint of a smile finally breaking through his serious expression. He turned to Yun Bilan. “Phew, I never expected—”
Before he could finish, a hand lightly rested on his shoulder.
It was Yun Bilan.
Compared to his broad adult male shoulders, her hand seemed soft and delicate, but the strength in her grip was undeniable, like cold steel clamping down on his arm.
“Ow, ow…” Wen Jianyan’s face scrunched in pain.
Yun Bilan leaned in, her voice soft but chilling. “Do you remember what I told you before?”
Wen Jianyan’s face froze in terror. “…W-what?”
“Don’t. Lie,” she said, enunciating each word in his ear.
Wen Jianyan: “…”
A sense of foreboding washed over him.
The next second, a fist slammed into his stomach.
“Ugh!”
Wen Jianyan let out a muffled groan, his body curling like a shrimp, unable to straighten for a long while.
Nearby, the others watched with schadenfreude, showing no sympathy for Wen Jianyan’s self-inflicted plight and no intention of intervening.
In the “Integrity First” Livestream:
[YES!!!]
[Nice hit!!!!]
[Keep going! Left hook! Right hook!!]
[Hahahahaha, I’ve wanted to see him get hit for ages! Keep it up, Sister Bilan!! We love it!!!]
After Wen Jianyan’s pitiful pleading and apologies, Yun Bilan’s icy expression finally softened slightly.
She loomed over him, saying, “Next time—”
“There won’t be a next time! I swear!” Wen Jianyan shook his head reflexively.
In the “Integrity First” Livestream:
[Pfft! Don’t believe him! No way!]
[He’ll lie again next time—this guy never changes!]
[Exactly, don’t forgive him! Keep hitting!]
[…]
[Am I really in a anchor’s livestream? Why does everyone seem so eager to see him get beaten?]
[Because he deserves it.]
[Because he deserves it.]
Finally, seeing Wen Jianyan sufficiently chastised, the others stepped in to mediate.
Yun Bilan’s anger subsided, and the matter was settled.
Wen Jianyan, wincing, rubbed his stomach and asked, “By the way, your earlier message mentioned you found the way to win. What is it?”
Yun Bilan pulled a small notebook from her pocket, found on a corpse, and handed it over. “Take a look.”
Wen Jianyan opened the notebook and flipped through a few pages, his expression turning grave.
[Year XX, Month X, Day X: I’m sleeping longer and longer, never feeling rested. I’ve been taking more and more leave. I really hope I won’t get fired for this. Strangely, when I rest, I keep glimpsing scenes that shouldn’t exist.]
[In my dreams, I saw a strange building in town called Xingwang Hotel. But our town is too small—there’s never been a hotel built here.]
A chill shot up his spine the moment he read those words.
He paused, then turned to the next page.
[Year XX, Month X, Day X: I visited the spot where the dream hotel was. It was empty—nothing there. I must’ve been dreaming.]
[Year XX, Month X, Day X: The school rewarded me for perfect attendance and gave me the Best Teacher award. But strangely… I have no memory of that time.]
[Year XX, Month X, Day X: Things that don’t belong to me are appearing in my house.]
[Year XX, Month X, Day X: The me in the mirror is smiling at me. Are my eyes… a bit too big?]
The simple sentences sent shivers down Wen Jianyan’s spine.
“Wait, this is…” He looked up at Yun Bilan, eyes wide with shock.
“The diary of that woman in white,” Yun Bilan said calmly.
Though he was prepared, the confirmation made Wen Jianyan’s fingers tighten, gripping the notebook’s sticky cover.
“In short, she was replaced by some entity within her own body,” Yun Bilan said, glancing at the notebook. “I don’t think it’s a split personality. That ‘her’ clearly knew things no normal human should.”
She checked the time, then looked at Wen Jianyan. “Long story short: the horrific version of ‘herself’ killed all the children in the school to use them as offerings to break a seal.”
Wen Jianyan froze.
His mind flashed to his earlier conversation with Hugo in the original instance and the rotting female corpse he’d seen in the well…
It had placed the black box in his hand before vanishing.
So, the thing inside that box was…
“Without the children’s souls, the ‘ingredients’ for the third day’s banquet must be the anchors who didn’t become official employees,” Yun Bilan said, snapping Wen Jianyan out of his thoughts. “Unfortunately, the Black Faction figured this out too. They’ve ruthlessly limited their official employee count. At this rate, we can’t surpass them in tips. So, we have to do the opposite—rally as many people as possible and, on this day—”
“The children’s souls you mentioned… is this it?” Wen Jianyan interrupted, pulling the black box from his pocket and opening it.
The glossy, eye-like black bead appeared before everyone.
The room fell into dead silence.
Yun Bilan’s pupils constricted. She snatched the notebook from Wen Jianyan, flipping to the last page. In the corner, a hasty sketch matched the bead almost exactly.
She snapped her head up. “Where did you get this?!”
Wen Jianyan rubbed the back of his head. “Under the well…”
“What—!” Yun Bilan’s voice rose instinctively.
“Zzt… zzt.”
The overhead light flickered twice.
Without warning, it went out.
Everyone flinched, instinctively looking up.
One by one, the corridor’s lights extinguished, stretching into the distance.
A chilling darkness spread, sending shivers through them.
The corridor was now completely dark, shrouded in inky blackness without a trace of light.
Wen Jianyan glanced at his pocket watch.
The watch, which had always adjusted itself, was now frozen at a dark corner, immovable.
The time was stuck at 00:00.
*Tap, tap, tap.*
Footsteps approached from the darkness, drawing closer.
Everyone’s hearts leapt to their throats.
A faint light pierced the darkness, illuminating a figure.
It was the hotel manager.
The man approached with a creepy, unchanging smile, holding a copper lamp emitting a weak glow. The dim light barely illuminated his surroundings, making his stiff, puppet-like figure even more unsettling. His already pale face looked deathly.
Ignoring Yun Bilan’s activated prop, he stood just outside their corridor.
With that fixed smile, the hotel manager addressed them: “I trust you’re all prepared for the banquet.”
“Please follow me to the employee lounge to rest— the banquet is about to begin.”
