Chapter 21 Part 1

Horne stirred, and the person holding him moved as well. An urgent inquiry came from above: “Does it still hurt?” There was a restrained tremble in his voice, so faint that it was barely there, but Horne still caught it.

He lifted his head slightly, and his eyes met Moroz’s, so close they were almost touching.

Horne froze for a moment. They were too close. There were tear tracks on the other’s face, wiped away but still leaving faint traces.

Moroz apparently hadn’t expected him to look up either. His whole body stiffened, and he immediately straightened up, pulling back the distance between their breaths.

Horne couldn’t quite react. His lips parted slightly, but the pain in his throat made him swallow the words he wanted to say.

The intense pain in his body hadn’t fully faded yet. The lingering sensation of being cut by a thousand knives still pierced his chest, though it wasn’t as vivid as before.

Moroz wanted to stroke Horne’s pale face, to wipe away the sweat on his forehead. His hand lifted halfway but then drooped in midair. In the end, he grabbed his own sleeve and used the fabric to gently wipe away his pain.

Horne frowned lightly and didn’t resist. After a few seconds, he slowly sat up.

The position made him uncomfortable, so Horne subtly shifted without a word and sat on the ground.

His first move was to check the terminal.

33 hours.

19 hours left in the game.

“Rest a bit more, brother.” Moroz sounded a little nervous, asking very cautiously. After Horne sat up, he turned around and sat facing the other direction.

Before Horne could speak, his gaze passed over him and landed on half of Gao Qie’s leg, which Moroz hadn’t blocked.

Moroz realized Horne had seen it too. He scratched his head awkwardly and said in an unnatural tone, “He got caught too.”

Horne was about to open his mouth when a massive noise came from the door.

Bang!

Horne, who had been somewhat shaken, jumped at the exaggerated crash.

Moroz quickly explained, “It’s the ghosts outside. They’ve learned to break doors now; they just need time.” As he spoke, he glanced disdainfully at Gao Qie, who was still lying unconscious on the ground, looking annoyed. “This idiot thought they were still the old ghosts. He was standing at the door when one smashed it open, and he got caught. That’s why we moved over here.”

“Mm.” Horne responded, discovering his throat was extremely hoarse. He stood up quickly, feeling the pain in his body finally receding and his heartbeat calming. He staggered to the back of the sofa and picked up the yellow diary.

[2050.5.5] Algernon was in a lot of pain. Seeing her screaming in the cage broke my heart. They’re all lives, and lives are equal.

[2050.5.21] I argued with Victor again. He said it was a necessary sacrifice for scientific progress and told me to drop my bleeding-heart compassion.

Horne closed the diary and sighed. His gaze fell on Gao Qie lying on the ground, and then he froze.

There were injury marks on Gao Qie’s body, and his face was swollen.

Ghosts inflicted mental damage on people; there was no physical harm when they woke up.

This was clearly from being beaten.

Horne glanced indifferently at Moroz and saw the young man staring at him intently. At that moment, he was still sitting on the ground, extremely tense. But Horne didn’t call him out. He said flatly, without any emotional fluctuation, “Did you get the clues?”

Moroz nodded. “My personal task, and the reason to kill you, was because you overheard me trading with Victor, the project lead.”

“Trading what?” Horne asked. He frowned right after, because his throat hurt badly, and speaking was uncomfortable. He decided to minimize talking for a while.

Moroz said, “I actually approached a few engineers, but the others were too upright. Only Victor faced a huge choice. He wanted to promote to chief engineer but lacked a standout project. I could give him a push, and in exchange, his share of the proceeds would be mine.”

A typical merchant, Horne thought. Promoting to chief engineer opened up endless possibilities. This deal killed two birds with one stone.

“Do you remember the info I shared before?” Horne asked.

Moroz immediately recited all the information they had exchanged before, and added everything Gao Qie had shared before getting caught.

With that, the game’s pattern became roughly clear.

The game wanted them to cooperate—at least two people, better with more—because if others shared their info, even if caught by a ghost and losing clues, they could be informed by teammates.

The later it got, the greater the advantage of cooperation. As the ghosts grew stronger each time, they needed companions to go out, deliberately take hits from ghosts or distract them, allowing teammates to gather clues, then switch.

This involved issues like trust and honesty.

So the game’s difficulty wasn’t in piecing together the story—the clues were right there in plain sight in each player’s house; they didn’t even need to think hard. The challenge was getting the clues, cooperating, and weighing risks.

Even so, Horne felt it wasn’t that simple. Since teaming up in pairs was possible, there must be something missing.

Horne had a vague guess, but it wasn’t clear.

Horne swallowed with difficulty, his voice hoarse as he said, “Wake him up. Let’s go.”

Just as he finished, Moroz kicked out with visible force, startling Horne.

Gao Qie, still writhing in pain, let out a sharp cry.

As soon as the door opened, the two of them rushed toward the city gate at a considerable speed, leaving Gao Qie behind cursing.

“Slow down a bit.” Horne said calmly. “As long as we don’t get caught.”

Moroz slowed his pace. He didn’t question Horne’s decision, but he was very unhappy.

Horne was just like that. Unless he slipped and fell off a cliff, he’d keep looking after others over and over, even if he wouldn’t admit it. In the end, he’d say it was “for the mission.”

They passed through the thick fog and entered the seventh timeline.

32 hours.

All three were prepared to sprint wildly, but each time it was unexpected. When they emerged from the fog, there were no ghosts in sight, nor did any immediately swarm them.

Gao Qie chuckled. “This lucky?”

Horne spotted a figure sprinting wildly at the distant end.

Someone was in this timeline.

Moroz narrowed his eyes and looked for a bit before sneering. “It’s that guy who’s never been in love. Perfect, he’s being chased. We can take our time going back to search.”

Han Ya was running comically on the other side of the street, completely exhausted, with dozens of ghosts trailing behind him.

At that moment, someone emerged from a nearby house. Seeing the three who had passed through the city gate, the person froze too.

The familiar red trench coat—Wen Yu immediately waved at them.

She and Han Ya had met in the sixth timeline. They’d compared info, discovered its meaning, and crossed the fog together to arrive here. Han Ya was grabbing his clues while Wen Yu drew fire outside; now it was time to switch.

They’d also learned another piece: the timelines here weren’t infinite, which was why they’d encountered each other. But the biggest problem was that while not infinite, there were still plenty. If they really cleared every one, the streets would be crawling with ghosts.

Wen Yu said seriously, “In March 2048, I passed the review. It was an experiment about ‘immortality.’”

As she spoke, her gaze intentionally or not swept over Horne.

“Physicists discovered the ‘immortality particle.’ In previous experiments, they’d successfully fused it with plants, so this time they used Algernon as the subject. Since it was a real living being, it required a new review. I don’t know more. We still need to pass through the city gate and seek the truth.” On the last sentence, her gaze fixed straight on Horne.

Horne met her eyes, pondering her words.

Beside them, Moroz tilted his head, propping his chin with one hand, watching Wen Yu motionlessly. After a moment, a smile flickered on his face—gone in half a second.

Horne was silent for a while before speaking. “Immortality particle. But my diary mentioned the ghost particle. I wrote the report; the one you reviewed was mine. It’s impossible for the same thing to have different names. They must be two coexisting particles, and they planned to fuse both with Algernon’s cells?”

Wen Yu was about to speak when an angry roar came from outside. Han Ya’s voice was urgent and gasping: “You done yet? I can’t run anymore! Damn it, if I’d kept up training… how long’s it been since I trained?”

The room went quiet for a moment. Horne stood up and said flatly, “I’ll go draw them off. You get yours first.”

As he reached for the door, Moroz kicked Gao Qie in the back, smiling. “Brother, let him go.”

Gao Qie stumbled from the kick and exploded in rage. “You damn little bastard, I don’t wanna…” Midway, he seemed to remember something, swallowed hard, and choked himself.

He didn’t finish the curse but still backed up two steps, yelling, “I’m not going! Absolutely not! You go yourselves. If I go, I won’t tell you my info! My clues are gone—whoever wants to piece it together can forget it. Worst case, we all die!” He shouted furiously.

Moroz sneered, stood up unhurriedly, shrugged, and walked to Horne’s side. Casually, he said, “Fine, I’ll go first then. Brother, you get yours, and come relieve me later.”

Horne paused, then nodded lightly. “Mm. Be careful.”

Moroz ran out. Han Ya, exhausted, came back. As soon as he entered, a chair flew at him from nowhere. Almost instinctively, Han Ya raised his hand and smashed it in half.

Only then did he notice the others in the room. Still shaken, he patted his chest and gasped, “Scared me to death.”

They first exchanged info. Han Ya sat on the sofa recovering for a good while before speaking normally. “I have an idea. I already discussed it with Wen Yu. Since the timelines aren’t endless, we can speed through all of them, find the remaining two, return to the first timeline, and meet up with Ains.” Here, he turned to Horne. “When I left, I told that girl a thousand times not to leave that street.”

“Mm.” Horne didn’t bother responding. Telling them to stay hadn’t worked anyway—no one listened. Getting mad now was pointless.

“But it’s risky,” Han Ya continued. “You know, the ghosts on this street are multiplying, and that damn chair just now.”

The chair, split in half, lay on the ground. It wasn’t impossible for it to fly up again.

Wen Yu added, “We’re still missing those two people’s info, and so far, no one has anything on Ains.”

The info pieced together was mostly there but not a complete story—still short some small details.

“Oh, and,” Han Ya remembered something. He chuckled mockingly and said lazily, “Me? I’m just a technician who got in through the back door to the lab. All I do is send particles into Algernon’s body. Nothing else.”

“Mm.” Horne wasn’t surprised. He stood up and said coldly, “Anything else?”

Han Ya was a bit stunned. He touched his nose. “That’s it, I think. What’s with the attitude?”

Horne didn’t answer. He grabbed Gao Qie, who was huddled in the corner, and shoved him outside. “If not, I’m going for mine.”

Gao Qie struggled violently. “Screw you, let me go!”

Horne ignored his thrashing completely, pushed him out, and slammed the door with a bang. Han Ya and Wen Yu exchanged glances. Han Ya pointed at the closed door, bewildered. “What’d I do to piss him off?”

Wen Yu smiled faintly, also looking at the door, her tone a bit helpless. “That’s just how Horne is.” She propped her head, swaying it casually, then added, “Especially when he’s mad.”

31 hours.