The room was an unusually spacious study. A stern-faced man in a suit silently fastened something cold and metal around Luo Shu's neck, then moved on to the man beside him, securing the same device around his neck with a click. Without a word, the man turned and left the study.
"What the heck is this? How'd we end up tied up?" grumbled a heavy, solid voice to Luo Shu's left.
Turning, Luo Shu saw one of his teammates: a broad-shouldered middle-aged man, built like a bulked-up from Dragon Ball Z, dressed in workwear straight out of the game's marketplace—sturdy khakis with lots of pockets, durable and affordable. Around his neck, a metal ring similar to Luo Shu's was newly fastened. A display dial on the side glowed green, though its function was a mystery.
His level and name floated above his head: [Frank Zhang, lv4].
"Nice, he's two levels higher than me," Luo Shu mused. "Wonder if he can carry me through this one."
The teammate on his right spoke up next. "Totally normal—just for the story, I'd guess."
Luo Shu turned to see a woman in all black: jeans, denim jacket, and cap, with striking features and a frosty expression. She seemed more annoyed than worried, tugging against the cuffs binding her wrists to the chair. "Some game scripts are like this. We're given a backstory that lets us slip into the world—complete with a 'past, present, and future,' to help us blend in," she said wryly. "I'm not sure what roles we're playing, but it feels like we're on the way to jail. Wonder if these collars are set to a timer."
Her name tag read [Angela Yu, lv3].
Outwardly, Luo Shu nodded along with an innocent "Oh, I see!" expression, but inwardly, he thought, Backstory, got it—so much talk over something so basic. With his "lv2" floating over his head, his newbie status was highly convincing.
He sized up his two teammates: it was clearly a three-person mission this time. But with no prompt or objectives yet, the mission hadn't officially begun—just time to look around and get familiar with teammates.
Horror Game seemed to scale team sizes with each mission, adding to the difficulty. His last run had two players; now they were three. Difficulty was bound to rise accordingly.
He lifted his gaze, taking in the room. Directly in front was an expensive-looking wooden desk, immaculate except for a finely crafted brass globe slowly rotating atop it. The desk's owner clearly had no need for "work"—definitely wealthy.
Behind it loomed a wall-length bookshelf reaching to the six-meter-high ceiling, like something out of a social media-famous library. Mostly, it held an array of world-class spirits rather than books.
Definitely rich, maybe not refined, Luo Shu thought.
To his left was a massive floor-to-ceiling window overlooking a dazzling cityscape. He studied the skyline, hoping to identify the city from the towering buildings outside.
Frank craned his neck, too. "Where is this place? Any guesses?"
Angela, evidently knowledgeable, immediately spotted the massive blade-shaped tower in the distance. "We're in Harbor Island—that's the Harbor Island Central Bank Building."
Luo Shu added, "A parallel world's Harbor Island. There are two identical high-rises nearby that don't exist in reality."
Angela and Frank exchanged a look, noticing Luo Shu's odd lab coat attire. Doctor? Why didn't he buy more practical clothes from the shop?
Footsteps behind them interrupted. Four imposing men in suits strode in and took positions along the walls.
Luo Shu strained his neck for a better look, his enhanced vision catching every detail. Each man carried a gun in his jacket; one even had two. Heavyset with thick necks, their hands rough and scarred—they were clearly professionals.
Frank muttered, "What are these guys, anyway?"
Luo Shu replied, "Red-faced and thick-necked. They're either big shots or butchers!"
Frank scratched his head. "What? Chefs? Why would chefs be doing all this?"
Angela, exasperated, snapped, "They're obviously professional bodyguards!"
Luo Shu shot her a sideways glance, thinking about his Sister-Slaying Blade Technique. "No sense of humor."
Angela sighed, while Frank chuckled, finally catching on. "Wow, man! You're something else—joking around at a time like this!"
"Shut up!" barked one of the "chefs," in Cantonese, auto-translated by the system.
"Quiet down! Lower your head if you don't want trouble!" snarled another.
Angela and Frank quickly lowered their heads, staying silent.
Luo Shu, however, pressed his arms hard against the chair and tapped his toes in rapid succession. His high-back chair rocked and inched forward. Under the shocked stares of the guards and the bewildered gaze of his teammates, Luo Shu managed to rotate himself 30 degrees, ending up in a different position entirely.
Nostrils flared, he glared at the two guards who had spoken. "I won't! What now? Go ahead, shoot me! Bet there aren't even bullets in that gun!"
His teammates' jaws practically dropped to the floor, eyes wide in shock. The guards were equally stunned, caught off guard as they glanced at each other, unsure how to respond.
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