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Chapter 23: The Gears of Fate Eventually Turn
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation
Gao Ming carefully folded a black and white photograph of the Unicorn Game’s inaugural workgroup and slipped it into his bag. He studied it intently, his face betraying no emotion, yet a deep, unspoken feeling simmered in his eyes.
Xuan Wen gazed out as the shadows diminished, pondering the grim future. “After the catastrophe fully unfolds, we may witness horrors a hundredfold worse than this,” he mused. “Given your history in the high-security prison, I assumed such things wouldn’t faze you.”
Interrupting him, Gao Ming declared, “We must return to Nightlight Studio. The escape murder scene spans only four levels, with no survivors on the first three. The perpetrator is likely hiding on the top floor, possibly even amongst Nightlight’s own employees.”
Xuan Wen shrugged, a sense of fatalism in her voice. “Everyone makes their choices. If left to their own devices, even spirits will resort to murder, multiplying ceaselessly. In the end, we all might face our demise. That person chose his path, empowered to enact it.”
Gao Ming countered, “The ghost was passive still, yet that individual slaughtered seven.”
Xuan Wen retorted, “Yet, he saved lives too.”
The corridor lights flickered, signaling the game’s conclusion as the shadows fully retreated.
This third game had profoundly affected Gao Ming, leaving an indelible mark.
Back at the Nightlight Studio Game office entrance, Gao Ming peered inside. The team was immersed in their work.
Zhang Wang, tossing an energy drink to Gao Ming, remarked, “Keep going. Age is seriously catching up to me. I used to be able to pull all-nighters with a breeze!”
The team paid scant attention to a recent text message, oblivious to the narrow escape from death, unaware that the Grim Reaper was in their midst.
Gao Ming’s gaze swept the room. His colleagues appeared normal, their demeanor betraying no anomalies.
“Mr. Xia, were you downstairs just now?”
Xia Yang, engrossed in digitally sketching a recent murder scene, responded, “I thought I heard a cry for help, so I checked. The emergency exit was pitch black, so I returned. You know I’m not particularly courageous.”
Gao Ming inquired about the absent delivery man.
Xia Yang leaned back, replying, “He fled and called the police as soon as the lights came back. It’s likely his doing, a prank perhaps. We create horror games; we can’t detain someone over a mere message.”
A cat meowed as the door opened again. Wei Dayou entered, cursing the building’s management for the lack of a standby electrician.
Wei Dayou, visibly frustrated, recounted his recent ordeal. “I almost broke down the power room door! If I hadn’t forgotten my phone, I’d have filed a complaint on the spot,” he said, returning to his desk to resume work.
Gao Ming engaged in casual conversations with all the Nightlight Studio staff but found nothing amiss among them.
Later, the police arrived, instructing everyone to remain inside the studio and not to leave. Only then did it dawn on the team that something significant had occurred within the building, though the specifics remained unclear to them.
Around 1 a.m., a wig-less Manager Gou was summoned to the studio for a private discussion with the police.
Confined in a small room, Manager Gou’s confusion was palpable even through the door. “I’m clueless about your inquiries! We’re merely game developers here. The most confrontational act from my team would be angrily typing a complaint,” he insisted.
He then described his team to the police. “This is Wei Dayou, our planner. Despite his robust appearance, he’s scared of even tiny insects, his heart as delicate as a young girl’s. And Old Xia, our lead artist, could be mistaken for frail. Even dancers in the public square could overpower him with ease.”
“Xuan Wen, our new recruit, is timid and introverted, too shy even to converse with strangers. If you think she’s capable of making seven people vanish, I’d eat this table in disbelief!”
Gou expressed his exasperation with the police’s absurd suspicions.
The Eastern District police proceeded with individual interrogations. By 3 a.m., Gao Ming was escorted to a room on the tenth floor for questioning.
Once there, the police deactivated all surveillance and recording devices and left, leaving Gao Ming in solitude.
After half an hour, the door opened again. Instead of the police, three individuals in black uniforms, each wearing a distinctive black ring device on their wrists, entered.
“The Investigation Bureau?” Gao Ming inquired, slightly apprehensive.
The leader, a short man with a commanding presence, introduced himself as Cen Guan, Deputy Director of the Hanhai Eastern Investigation Division, Future Science and Technology Branch. “Don’t worry,” he assured Gao Ming.
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation
A tall, slender man accompanying Cen Guan approached Gao Ming, displaying a video from his wrist device. It showed a disfigured investigator who had previously recommended Gao Ming to the Investigation Bureau.
Gao Ming, resting his chin in his hand, recognized the investigator. “He and I were involved in a Level 3 abnormal event together. He spoke to me about the Investigation Bureau. Are you here to arrest me?”
The tall man deactivated the device and replied indifferently, “He passed away two hours ago.”
“Died?” Gao Ming was taken aback, realizing he never knew the investigator’s name.
The man explained, “He was assigned to a task in the Hanhai Eastern District and perished in another Level 3 abnormal event.” He then sat down, gesturing for the other Bureau members to follow suit. “We’ve come to offer you a position with the Investigation Bureau.”
The investigator at the back carefully placed a black box on the table. After entering a password, he opened it, revealing a blood-stained black ring inside.
“The investigator Qin Tian, from Xinhai like me, was my most trusted colleague,” the tall, thin man began. “He spoke highly of your performance in the abnormal events. Your calmness, decisiveness, courage, and exceptional mental strength, coupled with an extraordinary mind, make you an ideal candidate for handling such incidents.” He spoke with a tone shaped by experience, familiar with the gravity of life and death situations. “Qin Tian was genuinely excited when he mentioned you. After losing his family in an abnormal event, seeing potential in you gave him a reason to smile again.”
Gao Ming pondered the significance of Qin Tian’s name. The abnormal events, once mere games, had evolved into something far more consequential. The tragic fate of the Unicorn Studio staff and the investigators from the previous day’s escape was a testament to this grim reality.
“The Hanhai Investigation General Bureau operates nineteen branches across Hanhai’s nineteen districts. Our branch in the Old City District is divided into five investigative offices: Lishan, Jinwan, Fuding, Pukou, and Dazhai,” the man continued, his gaze fixed on Gao Ming. “With Hanhai’s population being double that of Xinhai and the rise of abnormal events, we face a critical shortage of staff. New investigators, often inexperienced, face high mortality rates. There aren’t enough veterans to mentor them, necessitating the recruitment of civilians like you, who have firsthand experience with abnormal events.”
Cen Guan then added, “Joining the Investigation Bureau is risky, but ignoring these threats could lead to even greater dangers. No one is exempt from these disasters. Understanding and confronting them might be your best option.”
“I’ll consider it,” Gao Ming responded, contemplating the benefits of joining. The growing urban legends and his personal quest to uncover the disaster’s roots made the Bureau an attractive option.
“If you rise within the Bureau, you could potentially lead an investigation into the disaster’s origins,” he thought.
“Ordinary individuals rarely resolve Level 3 events alone. Your capabilities meet our highest recruitment criteria,” the tall man said, trying to sound as convincing as possible. “We won’t impose tasks on you or interfere with your personal life. You’ll have complete freedom.”
“What if I wish to leave Hanhai and visit other cities?” Gao Ming inquired, longing to see his real parents in Xinhai, a plan delayed by heavy rains and blocked roads.
“In the future, travel restrictions might apply, with Bureau personnel having unrestricted movement,” the man assured. “Joining us grants high authority and freedom to travel.”
Gao Ming felt torn, his eyes fixated on the black ring in the box.
The ring, stained with blood, symbolized a turning point in his fate, a tangible reminder of the life-changing decisions he faced.
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