Better early than late—Zhou Qi’an preemptively mourned for the conjoined old woman, then looked to the other side.
Bai Chanyi was sitting there, quietly observing everything happening in the cafeteria. Their eyes met, and she smiled. “As long as you’re okay.”
Seeing how ferocious that man looked earlier, she had thought it would end with one dead and one injured. Her early investment had almost gone to waste.
Zhou Qi’an glanced in the direction his boss had left and said with a strong hint, “Do you want to go downstairs and take a look?”
There was a chance she could extract some information from the conjoined old woman.
Bai Chanyi immediately grasped the deeper meaning behind his words. She was decisive—even after witnessing the horrifying sight of their boss eating a monster’s claw, she wasn’t willing to miss this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Just as she was about to walk out, a notebook was tossed her way. She instinctively caught it.
[Qimen Journal].
A system notification popped up.
Confirming it was a clue, Bai Chanyi nodded. “Much appreciated.”
The marlin potion had indeed gone to the right person.
The Origami Boy on the side was grinding his teeth—back in the car, they had been bidding against each other, so why was Zhou Qi’an being so generous now? That thing was clearly an important clue, and he just threw it away like it was nothing.
—
Because she had stopped to take the notebook, Bai Chanyi missed the elevator the boss had taken and had to wait for the next one. Another player was waiting alongside her, and the two of them used the time to flip through the journal.
After reading it, the player couldn’t help but say, “Sister Bai, the female ghost’s body might be hidden in Jin Furen’s office. If that’s the case, he has a better chance of winning than the ghost.”
They could pretend to cooperate with Zhou Qi’an while secretly working with Jin Furen to eliminate the ghost. Then, they could kill Jin Furen afterward.
After all, Jin Furen was still human. Keeping him for last would make things easier.
Bai Chanyi smiled and shook her head.
She cut off the player’s persuasion and shook the journal in her hand. “He’s holding nothing back from me.”
This journal was enough to help them understand what had happened in the building.
When a smart person appears to be completely open, that’s exactly when one shouldn’t get greedy.
Otherwise, things rarely ended well.
—
Cafeteria.
Zhou Qi’an was cleaning up the spilled noodles on the table while saying, “I’m heading to the dance studio later. You can do as you please.”
“What are you going there for?” The college student sounded anxious. That place carried the Substitute Death Curse—he had already suffered from it himself.
Zhou Qi’an said flatly, “Consecration.”
“…” The college student was utterly confused.
Zhou Qi’an didn’t give him time to dwell on it and continued, “It’s also for work. The dance studio is the only place with a curse that doesn’t kill people immediately. I can work on the planning there without being disturbed.”
It wasn’t like some idiot would knowingly run into a place filled with substitute ghosts, right?
The college student’s jaw dropped. “All that just for this?”
Zhou Qi’an thought for a moment. “If I’m lucky, I might even make a discovery.”
“A discovery?”
“A place with such a peculiar death rule—shouldn’t I at least try my luck and see if I can find something?”
They weren’t speaking in hushed voices, and the cafeteria was filled with lively discussions about where to find brains and skulls. Their conversation was easily drowned out.
Sitting alone, the Origami Boy’s expression flickered uncertainly. Earlier, Bai Chanyi had gathered all the remaining players together—except him.
As long as those players didn’t wander off alone, it would be difficult for him to kill one and use them as a birthday gift.
The Red Cloak was heading toward the exit but paused briefly beside his table.
The Origami Boy was quick on the uptake and seized the opportunity to ask, “What do you need me to do?”
The Red Cloak liked his shallowness. Killing shopkeepers was difficult, but that didn’t mean there weren’t ready-made corpses within the building. Some shops had coffins inside, proving that bodies existed.
The Origami Boy had been so flustered that he had completely overlooked this.
Shallow people were the easiest to use.
The Red Cloak tossed him a communication device and glanced over at Zhou Qi’an. “Since that guy escapes death every time, just follow him. Do whatever he does—simple as that.”
Mu Tianbai witnessed this scene. His shadow urged him to report it.
Mu Tianbai looked down at the dark figure at his feet but said nothing.
His strange expression caught Zhou Qi’an’s attention first, who asked, “What’s wrong?”
Mu Tianbai retracted his gaze and casually mentioned the Red Cloak’s actions, though his tone carried a hint of mockery. “That woman gave him what looks like a communication tool, but it has some extra functions.”
“Oh?” Zhou Qi’an glanced in that direction, but with so many people around, it was hard to see what the Red Cloak was up to.
Mu Tianbai simply said, “Evil begets evil.”
Since he put it that way, Zhou Qi’an just shrugged and didn’t bother to waste more energy on it.
On the other side, the Origami Boy understood that the so-called mimicry tactic the Red Cloak proposed wasn’t meant to save him—it was just a way to turn him into a surveillance device.
Still, the deal wasn’t exactly a loss. The Origami Boy was a little tempted.
The Red Cloak said, “Report his movements in real time. If you don’t get a brain and skull from him, I’ll provide them for you.”
The Origami Boy agreed immediately. “Deal.”
He walked quickly and caught up to Zhou Qi’an, who had just finished cleaning up and was leaving.
—
Elevator.
“You were right.” Zhou Qi’an specifically checked the elevator’s floor indicators—the eighth floor did look slightly camellia red.
Mu Tianbai was about to speak when a figure rushed in just before the doors closed—it was the Origami Boy.
The college student immediately sensed something was off. The newcomer hadn’t pressed any floor buttons, as if he was waiting to see where they were going first.
“Which floor are you heading to?” the college student asked on purpose.
The Origami Boy chewed his gum in silence. His plan was simple—wherever Zhou Qi’an went, he would follow. He wasn’t even trying to hide his freeloading.
Realizing his intention, the college student fell into silence. I really hope my boss and Brother Zhou don’t think I’m this dumb.
The Origami Boy mistook his awkward expression for frustration and smirked.
Then, Mu Tianbai suddenly spoke.
“You really enjoy being someone’s shadow?”
His voice was low and raspy, without any hint of threat—just a simple question.
The Origami Boy, in a good mood, was about to respond—when something caught his eye.
An intense, bone-chilling fear surged through his heart.
His smile froze. His body began to tremble involuntarily.
The elevator was lit with shadowless lamps—but at that moment, among the three of them, only one person had a faint shadow.
For the first time, the Origami Boy found the existence of a shadow terrifying.
Mu Tianbai waited silently for an answer.
So did his shadow.
The Origami Boy broke out in goosebumps. His paper crane, tucked in his pocket, shifted into a poised stance, ready to take flight at any second.
Just then, the elevator suddenly stopped. The doors slid open, and fresh air rushed in.
The Origami Boy felt relieved beyond words!
Clenching his teeth, he continued following Zhou Qi’an.
He had already offended them, so he might as well commit fully to working with the Red Cloak. He still needed her help to get his birthday gift.
As he stepped out, he lagged behind slightly and quickly whispered into the communication device, “Something feels off. They went straight to the fourth floor.”
No matter how you looked at it, this place was bad news. Even in daylight, it remained eerily sinister.
Just as he was about to mention the shadow, Zhou Qi’an came to a halt up ahead, speaking to Mu Tianbai.
“I’m going to work. What about you?”
Mu Tianbai answered calmly, “I’ll be cracking open skulls.”
“…”
The two temporarily split up—Mu Tianbai stood calmly by the escalator, contemplating which shop would be the lucky one.
Zhou Qi’an led the college student toward the dance studio.
Seeing them go their separate ways, the Origami Boy finally let out a breath of relief and followed at ease.
He didn’t even notice the flying insects trailing behind. Zhou Qi’an walked all the way to the dance studio’s entrance before stopping. Even before stepping inside, an icy chill seeped out.
Inside, a thin girl with long black hair spun alone on the stage, like a ballerina from a music box. When she twirled near the door, the two black holes where her eyes should be suddenly locked onto Zhou Qi’an and his group.
A pale, slender arm shot out without warning. But Zhou Qi’an moved even faster—he stepped into the studio first.
His eagerness made the long-haired girl momentarily freeze.
Danger!
The Origami Boy, seeing Zhou Qi’an’s reaction, instinctively tried to follow. But his paper crane in his pocket began trembling violently.
In his brief hesitation, Zhou Qi’an moved to close the door. The Origami Boy reacted on instinct, rushing in just before it shut.
The moment he entered, he was instantly engulfed by the ominous energy inside.
His veins at the wrist, originally blue, darkened into a nearly black-red color, and with every passing second, the cursed marks crawled upward.
Unlike Zhou Qi’an, the Origami Boy understood what this meant.
Seeing the dense runes forming along the blackened veins, he instantly knew—he was cursed. And worse—there was no cure.
He snapped his head toward Zhou Qi’an, only to find the same curse spreading across Zhou Qi’an’s wrist.
That morning, when the college student and Mu Tianbai came to the fourth floor to break a curse, the Origami Boy had watched from afar.
He had assumed that the rule of this place had already been lifted—that was why Zhou Qi’an had charged in so recklessly.
But now, he realized the truth—he had walked into a trap.
“Are you insane?!” he blurted out.
Zhou Qi’an remained unfazed, suppressing the discomfort caused by the transformation.
His white dress shirt was slowly stretching into a dress.
The curse’s power was even stronger today.
This white dress wasn’t something he put on—it was growing from his skin. He could even feel his flesh itch and sting as it took shape.
The freshly grown flesh on his back split open again, and from the scars, white fabric sprouted, inch by inch.
The unbearable itch almost made Zhou Qi’an want to cut his own skin open with a knife.
He bit his lip so hard that it nearly bled, barely managing to distract himself from the itching sensation.
Supporting himself against the ballet barre, he sat down as if he were at home and crossed his legs.
“…Our department mainly does advertising planning.”
Ignoring the long-haired girl, Zhou Qi’an, looking deathly pale, waved to the college student, “The boss wants me to get you familiar with the job. Don’t just stand there.”
The college student froze, too scared by the overwhelming aura to even glance at the female ghost.
Ever since Zhou Qi’an sat down, the long-haired girl had been standing before him in an unnaturally stiff posture, her arms hanging at her sides.
Zhou Qi’an questioned her, “Why aren’t you dancing?”
“…”
The long-haired girl wasn’t an aggressive entity.
She hadn’t fought back when the Origami Boy stomped on her head in the train, nor did she kill the college student on the first night.
Her true horror came from her connection to this dance studio—everyone who entered would eventually become a substitute sacrifice.
Unavoidable. Fatal. A slow, grinding death.
Seeing the college student still frozen in fear, Zhou Qi’an gently reassured him.
“Look, she has only one way to kill people. Since we’ve already entered her ‘killing path,’ we don’t have to worry about anything else.”
The college student forced out a smile that looked worse than crying.
For a few seconds, they sat in a tense standoff—Zhou Qi’an looking completely unbothered, as if daring her to try something.
And sure enough, she didn’t.
She had no second way to kill them.
With a resentful air, the long-haired girl spun away.
“Watching a live dance performance while working…”
As the college student trembled and finally sat down, Zhou Qi’an chuckled,
“We never had these kinds of perks in our time.”
The college student opened his mouth but couldn’t form a single word.
Without missing a beat, Zhou Qi’an smoothly transitioned into work mode, using the task at hand as an example to begin teaching.
Starting with the basic formatting, he advised,
“You should take some time to compile a few templates—after all, the fundamentals never change.”
The hand holding the pen was exceptionally elegant, but the person writing kept breaking out in cold sweat.
His scalp felt uncomfortable as well, so Zhou Qi’an simply took off his wig. His original icy blue hair slowly faded to gray, then gradually darkened to black.
The Origami Boy, who had still harbored a sliver of hope, finally snapped back to reality.
It was certain now—Zhou Qi’an had no hidden tricks up his sleeve. He was genuinely just sitting there, sweating cold bullets, explaining the job while keeping his back turned to the monster.
Even the college student couldn’t help but say, “Brother Zhou, you should still be careful.”
Zhou Qi’an’s thin lips barely moved as he uttered just four words:
“Focus on the lesson.”
There was no music in the dance studio.
The long-haired girl hummed a tune as she resumed her dance.
Her song carried fear, sorrow, and countless complex emotions.
The curse buried deep within the players’ bodies was like a seed—under the influence of her singing, it began to sprout.
By the time she finished the song, the last person to enter—the Origami Boy—had already grown long hair, and even his Adam’s apple felt like it was shrinking.
Since there had been no scheduled reports, about twenty minutes later, Red Cloak took the initiative to reach out.
“He went into the dance studio.”
The Origami Boy, gritting his teeth, pulled out the communication device, still feeling like he was in a dream.
“This whole thing is really not right…”
Red Cloak cut him off: “I told you, whatever he does, you do the same.”
“I did.”
“And then?”
In front of him was a mirror.
The reflection’s facial features had visibly softened.
The Origami Boy touched his Adam’s apple and his newly grown long hair, closed his eyes, and said,
“…And then, I turned into a woman.”
“…”
Meanwhile, the man responsible for all this was still seriously explaining advertising strategy.
From time to time, the long-haired girl would twist her head in his direction, listening to him talk, seemingly intrigued by these new concepts.
No matter how agonizing the substitute-death curse felt, Zhou Qi’an’s speech remained articulate—as precise as if he were leading a formal business meeting.
His words carried a double meaning:
“Advertisement templates are all the same, but as someone once said—
‘Those who adapt, live. Those who break the mold, advance. Those who imitate, die.’”
The last four words landed with a heavy finality, sending a chill down the Origami Boy’s spine.
Zhou Qi’an let out a cold chuckle.
Taking advantage of the Origami Boy’s brief distraction, he subtly scanned the dance studio.
On the first night, when he saw the long-haired girl’s skirt lift in the wind, he had already planned to come here.
For the wind to be that strong, it meant that the windows of this studio were completely open.
The entire fourth floor’s windows had been sealed with wooden planks—except for this one room.
Moreover, the long-haired girl and Jin Zhi had once been close friends.
That meant the long-haired girl definitely held valuable information.
Zhou Qi’an had a hunch—this information would be crucial.
After scanning the room, his gaze landed on a photo on top of a locker in the corner.
Just as he was about to get up, something flew toward him.
He caught it effortlessly—a crumpled piece of paper, aimed at his shoulder.
Opening it, he saw just two words:
[Help me.]
Help the child.
Zhou Qi’an looked around.
Finally, his gaze settled on the dance studio floor.
At some point, an extra shadow had appeared on the cold wooden planks.
The silhouette was slender and delicate.
At the moment, it looked almost flustered, as if caught off guard by the curse’s range—
Its hair was growing longer, almost reaching the waist, gently swaying in the breeze from the window.
At first, Zhou Qi’an didn’t recognize it.
But then, he saw the handwriting on the paper note—
It was Mu Tianbai’s shadow.
In an instant, Zhou Qi’an fell silent.
···
On the third floor, a dark figure emerged from a fruit shop.
Mu Tianbai carried a black plastic bag.
Inside, something was still dripping blood.
Inside the Jin Family Photo Studio, the barber stood frozen, his expression shifting unpredictably.
The barber and the fruit shop owner had always been at odds.
Mu Tianbai had just fully explored a side quest that Zhou Qi’an had previously abandoned—
By helping the barber chop off the fruit shop owner’s head.
Originally, the barber had only planned to stab the owner as a warning.
But when he saw how ruthlessly Mu Tianbai executed the kill, even he was shocked.
Mu Tianbai continued walking forward, completely unaffected by the murder.
Step by step, his footsteps suddenly faltered.
Huh?
Where’s his shadow?
__
—Author’s Note:
Some shadows… just disappear as you walk.
