WTNL Chapter 459

(2/3)

Yuying University
Chapter 459: Since we’re here anyway

The Weasel walked with his head down, seemingly distracted.

He failed to notice that, not far ahead, a figure slowly appeared in the middle of the road.

“Hey.”

A crisp girl’s voice rang out, especially clear in the dead silence.

“!”

The Weasel shuddered all over, raising his head like a startled bird and looking toward the source of the voice.

A cute, innocent-looking little girl was grinning at him.

But seeing that smile made the Weasel feel as if plunged into an ice cellar.

No one knew better than he did that beneath that angelic face lay a devilishly terrifying soul.

“Long time no see,” Orange Candy said with a smile.

The Weasel: “Y-yes… it has been.”

He forced the words out.

His face was ashen, his gaze drifting—unclear whether from guilt or fear.

“I need you to do me a favor.”

Orange Candy tilted her head with a squinty smile.

“W-what is it?” the Weasel asked.

“It’s simple,” Orange Candy said cheerfully. “I just want you to call out your companions.”

“…!”

The Weasel’s pupils contracted.

Feigning calm, he said stiffly, “Y-You must be joking… Didn’t my companions already abandon me?”

Orange Candy said casually, “Huh? Did they?”

She looked at the Weasel, then suddenly smiled. “But I’m not talking about them.”

A chill ran down the Weasel’s spine and the hairs on his neck stood up.

He remembered… he hadn’t told these people that he had other partners within the club. How did she know?

“Anyway, this favor—are you doing it or not?”

Orange Candy narrowed her eyes. Though her tone still carried a smile, anyone who knew her understood this was her sign of impatience, the precursor to anger.

“I’ll help, I’ll help!”

The Weasel hastily raised his hands. “Haven’t I been cooperating with you all along?”

“That’s good.”

Orange Candy waved him over with a grin. “Come here.”

The Weasel lowered his head and shuffled over unsteadily, his downcast eyes hiding his expression.

Unlike before, their “hunt” wasn’t going well this time.

Whether it was due to the instance’s difficulty increasing, or the newly entered anchors being of higher rank, this operation felt clearly different from the previous ones—he and his “companions” could feel it…

The difficulty had gone up.

In the past, with one class over, each person could average one to two badges. But this time… not only did the number of badges plummet, some anchors were nearly counterkilled—losing their monster clones and paying badges instead.

Yes—just as Wen Jianyan had guessed, he did indeed have so-called “companions.”

Of course, strictly speaking, they weren’t true companions; they’d never even met in the instance except under the identities of “club members.”

They were “companions” only because of the instance’s circumstances.

After all, the conditions to survive as a “club member” were far harsher than those for an “ordinary student.”

Although in the first academic year they lost one badge every two days, that hardly improved their dire situation.

If they failed to kill an anchor within two days, they themselves would die.

And when acting in their “monster” identities, all their anchor advantages vanished; once they entered “crises” where they could act, the anchors became especially vigilant. That’s why the “hunt” had not started smoothly.

Thus alliances began forming within the club.

Only by joining forces could they harvest one anchor life after another.

But unexpectedly, after entering the second academic year, their alliance suffered a heavy blow. This time, his “companions” gained very little, while his situation was even more critical.

After he was captured last time, all the badges on the Weasel were confiscated by Orange Candy. In other words… if he didn’t obtain at least one badge before tonight, he would likely die for real.

Because of this, his will to survive was even more desperate than the others’.

In fact, the Weasel had not told his “companions” that he’d lured Wen Jianyan and the others into the club. After all, his ties with these club members weren’t close, and some of them were terrifyingly ruthless—far beyond what he dared to offend.

—At least, that’s how it was at first.

“Message them.”

Orange Candy jerked her chin.

Smiling obsequiously, the Weasel nodded.

He lowered his head and began composing a message.

To prevent internal badge snatching, every anchor, while acting as a club member, had no face and had their identity erased.

Because of this, the real appearance and contact information of “club members” were extremely valuable now that so many were fighting over so little.

Those who had forced him—and whom he lured into the club—might be good targets… After all, they’d just joined and likely hadn’t learned the rules.

And the Weasel had their contact info.

More importantly, he was certain—absolutely certain—they had badges.

The Weasel looked up. “I sent it.”

He showed his phone to Orange Candy.

Orange Candy shrugged, unconcerned, and looked away. “Alright.”

She didn’t notice anything amiss.

Makes sense.

From his observation, this girl was probably the top combatant in the team.

And perhaps because of that, she was not especially clever.

She and that young man were extremes.

The Weasel studied the girl, then sneaked a glance at the team behind her.

—The smiling young man who always seemed gentle and non-threatening wasn’t here.

Unlike the little girl, the young man had never laid a hand on him from start to finish; yet the feeling the Weasel got from him was that every thought and action was seen through.

With him gone, that terrifying sense of omniscient pressure vanished as well.

A good opportunity.

The Weasel withdrew his gaze and exhaled.

Yes—long before Orange Candy approached him,

He had already sent his intel to his “companions.”

And they were lying in wait.

Meanwhile.

Seeing that familiar face in the dark, Wen Jianyan froze.

…Hugo?

What was he doing here?!

Seeing that Wen Jianyan recognized him, Hugo slowly released his hand.

He said nothing, just turned his head to look in the direction of the footsteps.

The rattling of wheels echoed in the dark. Through the narrow gap between shelves, a vague silhouette could be seen; the cold, monotonous footsteps paced about the room.

Time crept by painfully slowly, seemingly endless.

No one knew how long it took.

At last, with the creak of an iron door opening and closing, the rolling of wheels and the footsteps faded away.

Silence returned to the darkness.

“…”

Wen Jianyan exhaled; his heart, which had been hanging by a thread, finally settled.

“What are you doing here?”

Hugo frowned at Wen Jianyan and spoke first.

His voice was hoarse, with undeniable exhaustion.

Wen Jianyan thought for a moment.

So much had happened that he couldn’t summarize it briefly. After a couple seconds, he boiled it down to two words:

“…An accident.”

“What about you—why are you here?”

Wen Jianyan looked him up and down and asked.

He truly hadn’t expected Hugo to appear.

After all, Wen Jianyan himself barely knew how he’d gotten here.

Hugo reached into his jacket, pulled out a cigarette, bit it, and said slowly, “An accident.”

Wen Jianyan: “…”

With a faint rasp, a golden-red flame leapt up and lit the cigarette at Hugo’s lips. The dim ember flickered—the only light in the dark room.

Suddenly, Wen Jianyan’s gaze dropped—and he paused.

Hugo wore dark clothes, and the lighting was dim. Only now did Wen Jianyan notice a large, sticky stain spreading across Hugo’s chest and abdomen—like… blood that hadn’t yet dried?

It explained the metallic scent he’d noticed earlier and Hugo’s unusual fatigue.

“You’re hurt?”

Wen Jianyan asked.

Though phrased as a question, his tone was certain.

Hugo exhaled smoke and glanced at Wen Jianyan. “Yeah.”

Wen Jianyan frowned.

If Hugo was here with injuries, it wasn’t because he didn’t want treatment—it seemed more like “couldn’t be treated.” Likewise, whatever had injured Hugo to this extent was no ordinary threat.

Wen Jianyan didn’t ask “Where are you hurt?” “How bad is it?” or “Do you need me to treat it?” Instead, he went straight to the point: “Can you still move?”

Hugo bit the cigarette, considered for two seconds, and said:

“Barely.”

“Before you came, I must’ve already been unconscious for a while.” He leaned on the shelf, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If it weren’t for a loud noise just now, I might not have woken up.”

Wen Jianyan: “…”

Got it—that would be when he toppled off the shelf and hit the ground.

He cleared his throat and quickly changed the subject:

“Do you know how to get out of here?”

Hugo: “…More or less.”

The room they were in was large: four walls, and on each wall, a pitch-black iron door.

Hugo pointed to the door on the opposite wall.

“I came in from there.”

Then he pointed to the one on the left. “I’ve been in there.”

“Neither of those leads out,” Hugo said, withdrawing his gaze. “So that means we have two other options.”

Even with limited information, Wen Jianyan pieced together a rough outline.

Hugo had said he arrived here by “accident,” which likely meant some crisis forced him in. To escape, he chose one door, but that path didn’t lead outside; his current injuries likely came from there, forcing him back into this room.

Wen Jianyan was very curious what lay behind those two doors, but this was clearly no place for conversation—and every second counted.

Wen Jianyan: “Can you walk?”

Hugo braced on the shelf and straightened. “…Yes.”

“…”

Wen Jianyan looked him up and down, obviously doubtful.

But now wasn’t the time to press.

Wen Jianyan thought a moment. “You wait here. I’ll check the other two doors.”

Hugo didn’t posture. He nodded and leaned back against the shelf.

After settling Hugo, Wen Jianyan headed toward the two doors Hugo hadn’t tried.

Both were tall iron doors painted a dark red—like blood that hadn’t dried. The latches were locked from the outside, but this didn’t worry Wen Jianyan—Hugo clearly knew how to enter one of them, which meant the latches weren’t an obstacle to him.

Wen Jianyan carefully examined the two doors, looking for any clue that could help him decide.

Unfortunately, as he’d suspected, the doors were indistinguishable until opened—practically copy-pasted. Without trying them, there was no effective way to know which led out and which led to a dead end.

Given his luck, Wen Jianyan suspected he might pick the worst one.

In theory, even if the first door didn’t work, they could retreat and try the other—but could they really retreat?

Hugo’s wounds flashed through Wen Jianyan’s mind, and he frowned.

This was beyond doubtful.

If they wanted to get out alive, they had to choose correctly the first time.

Otherwise, the margin for error would plummet.

At that point… getting out alive would be far harder.

“Have you decided?”

Hugo’s hoarse voice sounded behind him as Wen Jianyan was thinking.

Wen Jianyan turned.

At some point, Hugo had left the shelf and come up behind him.

Whether from the cigarette or not, his color looked a little better—but not by much.

Wen Jianyan: “…No.”

Honestly, he preferred Hugo make the choice.

He didn’t want to bet on his own luck—

Even if it was just a 50–50.

Hugo strode forward. As they passed shoulder to shoulder, Wen Jianyan caught the scent on him—blood mixed with ash.

Wen Jianyan suddenly paused.

“Wait.”

“?”

Hugo looked at him, puzzled.

Wen Jianyan didn’t explain, just turned and quickly walked to the other door.

Half a minute later, Wen Jianyan jogged back.

He didn’t look at Hugo. Passing him, he went straight to the door, leaned to the crack, and did something unknown.

Soon, Wen Jianyan stepped back.

When he turned to Hugo, he seemed to have decided. “We’re taking this one.”

Hugo: “…Oh?”

“Scent.” Wen Jianyan tapped his nose and squinted with a smile. “When lost in the dark, follow your nose.”

The door was shut and blocked their view—they couldn’t foresee the danger beyond.

But… scent wouldn’t be blocked by a door.

Wen Jianyan had only planned to try it, but unexpectedly, he really discovered something.

From the other door, he smelled something familiar:

Damp, sweetly metallic.

Throughout this instance, whenever Wen Jianyan entered a new area, he would catch this scent more or less… It lingered everywhere—ever-present—and it signaled danger.

So, if they entered that door… they would likely be heading deeper into the instance’s core.

The problem was, Wen Jianyan had too little intel. Most teammates were scattered, Hugo was seriously injured—charging in under these conditions was a quick road to death.

But behind the door before them, the sweet metallic scent was much fainter, and there seemed to be moving air.

Earlier, though he’d been in a sack and had no idea how he got here, Wen Jianyan could clearly feel he’d been going… down.

Which meant, if they wanted out, this door was the most likely route.

However…

Wen Jianyan remembered that the “shadow” pushing the cart had just left through this door.

He took a deep breath and swallowed his anxiety.

The path he’d chosen was probably right—but not risk-free.

Hugo looked at him steadily and didn’t ask more.

He stubbed out the cigarette, stepped forward, and—just like at the gym entrance last time—placed his hand on the door. A second later, there was a faint click from the latch behind it.

This time, Wen Jianyan noticed wisps of gray-white smoke seeping from the fingers that had crushed the cigarette, drifting into the crack.

Wen Jianyan looked thoughtful.

It seemed Hugo had used his talent to open the door at the gym as well.

Unlike Wen Jianyan, Hugo, Orange Candy, the Gentleman, and the Bricklayer—their secret council members—didn’t hesitate to use their talents, even if it might bring greater danger.

Fair enough—once they completed a bounty, Nightmare would offer them a chance to recover.

Wen Jianyan was different; he was wary of Nightmare—especially its “benefits.”

So even though he knew completing bounties could alleviate the side-effects of overusing his talent, he still stayed cautious—he had no desire to be entangled with anything in Nightmare.

With a creak, the iron door slowly opened before them.

Beyond was a pitch-black, narrow passage leading who-knew-where.

Wen Jianyan lowered his head and ground his shoe against the floor—the floor wasn’t covered with anything, slightly damp, confirming his suspicion.

They were indeed underground.

“Let’s go.” Hugo took another cigarette from his pack and started forward. But he’d only taken one step when Wen Jianyan suddenly said, “Wait!”

Hugo stopped.

Wen Jianyan turned and ran back to the shelves.

A few seconds later, the young man came jogging back, a cloth bag in each hand.

“Here.”

Wen Jianyan tossed one to Hugo.

Hugo caught it reflexively; the pull on his abdominal wound made his brows twitch and his face change.

He lowered his head and looked at the heavy bag in his hands.

“…You sure?”

“Of course.”

The young man nodded with a sunny smile that somehow looked sly.

“As the saying goes, use every resource at your disposal.”

This wasn’t ordinary dirt.

Cold and sinister—if even real fierce ghosts could be suppressed beneath it, it might come in handy.

Wen Jianyan thought, then added, “And if it’s useless, that’s fine too.”

“Since we’re here anyway… might as well not leave empty-handed.”

He didn’t know why this instance needed it. But it did. In that case, he couldn’t resist throwing a wrench in the works.

Wen Jianyan eyed Hugo up and down with some regret.

“Too bad. If you weren’t injured, we could probably carry more.”

Hugo: “…”

In the Integrity First live room chat:

[…]
[…]
[I have never seen someone so shameless!!]

After leaving that room, the two followed the passage forward.

It was pitch-black here too—a cold, creepy gloom.

The corridor stretched on without end, giving the illusion that it would never finish.

Neither spoke.

They both knew the situation was deceptively calm. If anything happened here, there’d be almost nowhere to run or hide. In other words, they couldn’t afford to make a sound or be distracted.

As they walked, Wen Jianyan counted his steps, trying to gauge the passage’s length.

No one knew how much time passed before Hugo suddenly stopped.

He raised his head and looked ahead.

Wen Jianyan followed his gaze—

Without noticing, they had reached the end of the passage.

An iron door came into view.

Wen Jianyan frowned and looked at Hugo.

As time passed, Hugo’s face seemed even paler. The dark stain at his flank deepened, the scent of blood grew heavier. And yet he hadn’t made a sound—his endurance was remarkable.

Wen Jianyan: “Wait here. If I need you, I’ll call.”

Hugo glanced at him, said nothing, and nodded.

He didn’t posture—and clearly couldn’t.

Wen Jianyan lightened his steps and crept forward.

He reached out and carefully nudged the door—it wasn’t locked.

It seemed Hugo could wait a bit longer.

Wen Jianyan took a deep breath, shut his eyes briefly, then summoned his courage and eased the door open a crack.

What he saw was startlingly familiar, making him pause.

Cold lights, filthy walls, greasy stovetops, a mountain of kitchenware.

This was… the back kitchen?

Though Wen Jianyan hadn’t entered the cafeteria’s back kitchen in the instance, he’d been there more than once in the film “A Day in Wang Ni’s Life.”

He was certain this was the cafeteria’s back kitchen—only older and dirtier. The air didn’t carry steam or cooking fumes…

But the heavy scent of blood.

And, crucially, every time he’d been in the back kitchen before, it was empty.

This time, two figures in white chef uniforms stood with their backs to him, busy at the stoves.

Wen Jianyan’s heart sank.

As expected.

Shuffle… shuffle… shuffle.

Heavy footsteps sounded in the distance.

Wen Jianyan glimpsed a fat, cold-looking figure in a chef’s coat heading this way.

His heart leapt. He quickly retreated, moving away from the door.

He stood and thought for a few seconds, then turned and walked back toward Hugo.

“What is it?”

Leaning against the wall, Hugo lifted his eyes.

Wen Jianyan recounted what he’d seen.

“So, outside is the kitchen?”

Hugo raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah.”

Wen Jianyan nodded.

Hugo: “Looks like you did pick the right way.”

Though this was also a staff-only back kitchen that students couldn’t enter, it was clearly connected to the outside world—unlike his last choice.

Hugo asked, “How many chefs?”

Wen Jianyan: “I saw three.”

Hugo lowered his head and pondered for a while. He pushed off the wall and straightened.

“Shouldn’t be a problem.”

But unexpectedly, Wen Jianyan shook his head. “No, I’m not planning to leave just yet.”

“…”

Hugo paused and looked at him. “What?”

Wen Jianyan: “If I’m not mistaken, there should be a hidden item here.”

Previously, in the “film,” the Guiding Hand directed him to the item’s location, but he couldn’t find it. At the time, Wen Jianyan guessed the item should be in the same place within the instance.

However…

Unlike in the film, the back kitchen in the instance was hard to access.

The cafeteria’s open hours were short, and half the time coincided with their classes. Even if they didn’t collide, there was no way for Wen Jianyan to slip past NPC surveillance and school rules to find a way in under everyone’s noses.

He had nearly given up on the item.

But he hadn’t expected…

A twist of fate.

Wen Jianyan smiled, a little sheepishly. “…Since we’re here anyway.”

Hugo: “…”

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