You’re Telling Me This Is a Slice-of-Life?

Yuuki’s sudden ‘outburst’ sent a jolt through the group, immediately putting everyone on high alert.

Li Dan might have said it was just a possibility, but his body language told a different story—his usual relaxed demeanor was nowhere to be seen. He knew all too well that if Yuuki’s guess was correct, even veteran players would have little chance of survival.

The core principle of pattern recognition remained unchanged, but the conditions affecting the search had shifted drastically. They needed to unravel the mystery while ensuring their own survival.

How the hell were they supposed to manage both?

But there was no turning back now. All they could do was grit their teeth and press on. Everyone had their own suspicions, but no one voiced them outright.

The investigation had to continue. After a brief rest, the team dispersed to scout the area. Only Sakurajima Mai volunteered to stay behind and help bandage Yuuki’s wounds.

When he removed his bulletproof vest, his skin was covered in dark bruises. Even though the Level IV ballistic plate had blocked the stray bullets, the sheer impact had still been brutal. As soon as Mai’s fingers touched his shoulder, his muscles reflexively tensed, as if pricked by needles.

“Mm—ah—”

Mai rolled her eyes. She was already immune to his dramatic reactions. This time, however, she refrained from smacking him, instead carefully wringing out a damp handkerchief.

“Huh? You didn’t hit me this time. Don’t tell me you’re feeling sorry for me?” Yuuki turned his head in surprise, just in time to catch her eye roll. He let out an awkward chuckle. “Not that I’m complaining. Gentle treatment is nice too. Heh, but just so we’re clear—I’m really not a masochist.”

“If we didn’t still need you later, I’d have twisted your arm off by now,” Mai muttered, tossing the handkerchief aside and pulling out some ointment they had scavenged earlier. She applied it carefully. “Doesn’t this hurt at all? And why do you not seem scared?”

“You mean getting shot?”

“No, obviously I mean the weather. What do you think?”

Yuuki paused his thoughts for a moment before replying nonchalantly, “Probably because I’ve been through it before. Once you know what getting shot while wearing a vest feels like, it’s not as scary anymore.”

The moment he finished speaking, Mai’s hand froze. She stared at him like he was some kind of alien.

“Wait—you’ve experienced it before!?”

“Yeah. If you go to the black market in America, you can get both guns and bulletproof vests. Just take a shot at yourself and see how it feels. Of course, I had limited resources, so I only tested it with a handgun.”

…

Mai had no idea how to respond. His bizarre skillset was one thing—she could chalk that up to having too many hobbies. But voluntarily shooting himself? What kind of person did that?

“I take back what I said. You’re not just weird. You’re a lunatic.”

“If you don’t embrace the madness, you won’t survive. Right now, it’s up to this madman to keep you all alive.”

Yuuki laughed. To him, this was the highest form of praise. In fact, ever since the game began, it was this very contradiction that had kept him calm.

The Reincarnation Game was terrifying, but if not for it, then all his past suffering would have been for nothing. There were countless times when he had wanted to march into Shuchiin Academy and find a childhood friend, but every time, he forced himself to hold back—because of that one line in his diary.

Now that they had meet in this game, he was strangely calm. Because his advantage in approaching Sakurajima Mai wasn’t the mindset of an adult trying to win over a kid, but the skills he possessed.

“You can’t argue with that, can you? Feels like, in this dark and endless abyss, I’m the only light, doesn’t it?”

“Tch. You sure don’t hold back when it comes to praising yourself,” Mai scoffed, tying off the bandages with a neat bow. But after finishing, she found herself staring absently at his back.

“But… you’re right about one thing. This place really is a dark, suffocating abyss.”

It was only the second night, yet it felt like two years had passed. If not for the person in front of her, she wasn’t sure she would have made it this far.

“To be fair, the game does give us a chance to breathe. Don’t slander it,” Yuuki quipped, turning back with a mock-serious expression, as if he was about to file a formal complaint. Mai watched him for a moment, then let out a laugh.

“Focus. We’re still in danger.”

“Focus? If I put on a cold, serious face, you’d probably lose your mind.”

She couldn’t argue with that. Without his dumb jokes, even if they survived, they’d probably go insane.

Mai didn’t refute him this time. She gave a barely noticeable nod but made no move to praise him further. After spending just one day with him, she had already figured it out—give him an inch, and he’d take a mile.

A lunatic, huh?

In truth, she had already started to have doubts—at this game’s level of difficulty, someone like Li Dan, a veteran player, shouldn’t even exist.

“By the way, about earlier… you wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with it, would you?”

“Does it matter? If I did, would killing me solve the problem?” Yuuki shot back immediately.

Mai opened her mouth but found herself at a loss for words.

The cause was unclear, but it no longer mattered. What mattered was finding a solution.

Yuuki recalled Hayasaka Ai’s nod from earlier, his expression unconsciously growing more serious. Mai’s hands slowed, instinctively sensing the shift in his mood.

[Interesting. When I deliberately mentioned Thomas, the rich guy defended him, and Li Dan changed the subject. He was actually trying to corner me into revealing something.]

Yuuki never underestimated anyone. His secrets weren’t impossible to uncover—like how he had escaped the castle. The key piece of information had never been shared.

[At first, Li Dan had merely been curious. Then, curiosity turned into interest. Then interest turned into wariness. He had been waiting for the right moment to force the truth out of me.]

But the strange part was that the one who brought up the topic was the fat guy. There was no way he was actually smarter than Li Dan… right?

[No, impossible. But why was he the one to start the conversation? And why did he defend Thomas when I tried to throw dirt on him? And what was the change in expression Hayasaka Ai saw just now?]

Yuuki fell into deep thought.

Before the conversation, he had already discussed things with Hayasaka Ai. Her job had been to play along while carefully observing Li Dan’s reactions.

That brief moment when Li Dan’s pupils froze—it couldn’t have been an act.

Yuuki closed his eyes, mentally rewinding through every moment since entering the game, piecing together scattered details like a movie reel.

The coughs. The habit of patting shoulders. The seamless information relay. The gaze Mai had felt. The subtle changes in expression when discussing difficulty levels.

“Li Dan and Thomas are up to something. And this mission’s difficulty spike? Probably their doing.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Mai looked up from the radio, confused. How had they suddenly jumped to this conclusion?

“I’m saying there’s a good chance we’ve run into an sly bastard. There’s more than one way to make this game harder—Li Dan might’ve pulled some strings.”

Yuuki didn’t bother explaining further. They’d find out soon enough.

If he was wrong, then great—it would just mean he had overthought things. But if he was right…

Then it was time to prepare.

No matter what the reason, no matter how many consequences it led to—his goal remained the same. Survive.

And both he and Li Dan were waiting for the same critical piece of information.

After giving Mai a few more warnings, Yuuki focused his attention on the radio, listening intently.

…

Li Dan and the others didn’t find a single living corpse—not in the port district, at least. Apart from the unsettling crimson moonlight, everything seemed to have returned to normal.

Oh, and even the pursuers were gone. Finally, a moment to catch their breath.

“This is weird. Where did those monsters go? Don’t tell me they actually let us off?” Sakurajima Mai frowned. This didn’t match the pattern they’d seen so far.

“You wish. But I do have a theory.”

“Stop keeping me in suspense! Spill it!”

Originally, Yuuki had planned to hold out for a reward before revealing his thoughts, but seeing the way Mai was glaring at him—like she was about to take a bite out of him—he gave in and explained:

“It’s probably a spawn point issue. Remember when we escaped the castle? There’s no way the people of Red Moon City are normal citizens by day and ghouls by night. And where do all those endless waves of police come from?”

Oh.

With just that little nudge, Mai instantly understood—he was looking for similarities between day and night. There was no concrete proof, but it was the most likely explanation.

So, a spawn point, huh? That meant their hiding spot was actually pretty decent.

If the ghouls were spawning from the castle, it would take time for them to reach the port district. Not only was it far, but they’d also have to cross the canal. If they raised the bridges in time, those things wouldn’t be able to get through. The only thing to worry about was whether the Red Moon would “gift” them with another surprise.

“If only everything reset! We’re not as weak as we were last night—we can actually fight back now!”

Seeing the girl hyping herself up, Yuuki’s smile deepened, but he had to admit—she wasn’t wrong.

Last night, he had been nothing but an ordinary human. Any random police officer could’ve gunned him down. But just now, he had carved a path through the corpses, leaving bodies in his wake.

Mastered-level reinforcement magic.
Mutated weapons.
Innate trait.
And on top of that, battle experience.

The others had grown stronger, too. Even the fat guy was no longer just a regular person.

The enemies had vanished, but their weapons remained. Now, everyone had a rifle in their hands. Even if they fired blindly, it was still better than being unarmed.

At a glance, things were looking up.

…Yeah, right.

Paradise or hell—it all hinged on a single factor.

Yuuki glanced at his watch, then pulled on his bulletproof vest and gripped his sword. His gaze locked onto the depths of the parking lot, where tendrils of black and red mist seemed to coil and swirl.

The answer would reveal itself soon.