Since being delivered to this town by the gaming pod, Mu Sichen had witnessed a litany of eerie and horrific sights. He considered himself well-acquainted with the macabre, yet nothing had prepared him for the scene behind that door. It had given him a genuine fright.

This was different from his reckless attempt to look at Big Eye. Back then, he had steeled himself with mental preparation, pre-visualizing every terror his imagination could conjure. Big Eye’s primary impact had been the crushing weight of its insurmountable power rather than a jump-scare to the senses.

This time, however, he had been misled by logic. Having read the rules downstairs about the four interchangeable roles—Medical Staff, Volunteer, Family, and Patient—Mu Sichen had naturally assumed a “Patient” would be someone like himself, perhaps even someone he could communicate with.

Opening the door to that was a physical shock. His fresh Ego Sticker disintegrated instantly under the mental blow. Strangely, his SAN value remained stable, but his physical composure was shattered.

Leaning against the doorframe, he waited for his heart to stop racing. He forced his rational mind to take the lead. It was then that he felt an itching sensation in his palm. He looked down and saw two small white blisters forming. In the center of each was a tiny black dot. They looked exactly like fish eyes.

Mu Sichen: “…”

Finally, he understood why the guard at the gate hadn’t checked if he was a “Degenerate” or verified his personal information. They didn’t need to.

The guard had complimented the name “Sha Dayan” because those who worshipped Big Eye possessed a compulsive adoration for anything ocular. The mere mention of “Big Eye” in his alias had sparked instant rapport.

If a devout Family Member had opened that door and seen the Patient, their first reaction wouldn’t have been horror; they would have stepped forward to admire the exquisite cluster of fish-eye blisters. It was a form of protection.

Mu Sichen lacked that shield. In his state of emotional turbulence, and without the protection of an Ego Sticker, he had been instantly polluted by the Patient’s presence. There had been no physical contact and he had kept a safe distance, yet the mental shock alone was enough to trigger the contagion.

Does higher negative emotion correlate to a higher rate of infection?

If so, the Followers—who felt genuine joy at the sight of eyeballs—were effectively immune. Mu Sichen struggled to suppress his emotions. He told himself to remain indifferent; even if he couldn’t “love” the sight, he had to at least view the creature as a human being.

But his mind rebelled. Simply recalling the image made his skin crawl, and two more blisters sprouted on the back of his hand.

This was a death trap. The more he panicked, the more blisters appeared. The more blisters he saw, the more he remembered the Patient and feared becoming him. It was a perfect, self-sustaining loop of terror designed to break the human spirit.

Mu Sichen closed his eyes and summoned the memory of his Advanced Mathematics textbook from last semester. Astronomical mathematical symbols filled his mind. A specific problem from the final exam—one he had failed to solve—surfaced with startling clarity. He still didn’t know how to solve the equation, but the sheer frustration of calculus anchored his emotions.

Math was hard, and that hardness provided a floor for his sanity. With his logic restored, he plotted his next move.

He had two options. First, wait twenty minutes for his MP to recover enough for one use of “Undermine.” That could either heal the patient or grant him a new Ego Sticker for self-salvation. Second, actively scout the facility for a way to swap identities.

Mu Sichen wasn’t the type to sit and wait. He decided on a two-pronged approach. He would use the twenty-minute recovery window to map the sanitarium’s rules.

But where to start? Should he look for Staff and Volunteers, or sneak into the offices to find files?

He pushed the thought aside, focusing on reciting formulas to keep his rational mind dominant. In the cold light of logic, he realized something: he had been standing outside the room for a while, yet the Patient hadn’t chased him. Either the Patient couldn’t leave, or he lacked the ability to attack.

Patient… Sanitarium…

Wait. This was a mental sanitarium, not a general hospital. Its purpose wasn’t to cure the blisters, but to “cure” the mind. In the “normal” world, that meant restoring a person to health. But in Pupil Town, “normal” meant worshipping Big Eye and feeling bliss at the sight of ocular mutations.

Therefore, “mental illness” in this facility likely meant resisting the mutations and hating Big Eye.

Mu Sichen turned back to the door. His hand trembled on the handle. Even with his theory, stepping back into that room required an act of will. He gripped his flashlight, gritted his teeth, and pushed.

The Patient was still on the bed. Despite his grotesque appearance, he showed no aggression. He simply stared at Mu Sichen with those bulging, watery eyes.

Mu Sichen also noticed what the man was eating. It wasn’t raw flesh, but a piece of bread from a red wrapper. The stench wasn’t rot, but the smell of burst blisters; half the bubbles on the man’s face had popped, leaking a yellow serum that smelled like stagnant brine.

Mu Sichen shifted his gaze to the man’s chest. His badge read: Patient: Shen Jiyue.

Shen Jiyue—Clear Moon After Rain. A beautiful, poetic name for a man turned into a monster.

Mu Sichen tested the waters. “You should cooperate with the doctor’s treatment. Stop resisting, and you can be discharged sooner.”

Shen Jiyue looked at him with profound pity. He took a savage bite of his bread and growled, “If you don’t want to die, get lost. You brain-dead idiots!”

The exertion of speaking tore at the sores on his face, making him wince. He didn’t scream, however. After his face contorted in pain for a moment, he resumed eating with much gentler movements.

His defiance was the most beautiful thing Mu Sichen had seen all day. It meant the man was still human inside.

Mu Sichen moved closer, and when he saw Shen Jiyue didn’t strike out, he felt a wave of relief. Above the bed hung an IV stand with a handwritten clipboard. Mu Sichen reached for it, keeping one eye on Shen Jiyue as he read the chart.

Patient: Shen Jiyue Diagnosis: Chronic Degenerate Syndrome Clinical Manifestations: Refuses to accept the Great Existence’s blessings. Repeated acts of self-mutilation in attempts to destroy the “gifts” granted to him. Possesses the potential to become a Kin/Apostle, yet resists stubbornly. An extremely difficult case. Treatment Log:

1. Purification: Attempted by Apostle Feather-Eye and Apostle Double-Pupil. Failed due to the strength of the “gifts” granted by the Great Existence.

2. Mental Baptism: Constant recitation of the Great Existence’s deeds by Staff and Volunteers. Failed due to stubbornness.

3. Family Counseling: Ongoing. Yesterday, a “Family Member” successfully received the Blessing after counseling the patient and returned to the Great Existence’s protection. The Patient witnessed the “sacred” transformation of his “family” and was visibly moved. Treatment showed effectiveness. Continued observation required.

Mu Sichen was speechless.

The “Family Member” wasn’t there to help the patient; they were the medicine.

Shen Jiyue’s mental fortitude was staggering. Even after being mutated into this form, he maintained human logic and had even tried to cut the “eyes” off himself to save his soul. He had withstood the “Purification” of high-level Apostles and the non-stop brainwashing of the Followers.

His only moment of weakness—the “effective treatment” mentioned in the log—was likely the trauma of seeing a sane person go mad and mutate right in front of him.

This wasn’t a monster; this was a man of immense moral character. Mu Sichen felt a pang of guilt for having almost smashed the man’s head in with a pickaxe earlier.

He hung the clipboard back up and tested Shen Jiyue again. “You should be grateful to the Great Existence. Without Him, there would be no food, no clothes, and no safe town.”

Shen Jiyue’s “watery eyes” rolled back in exasperation. “There is no such thing as a free lunch in this world. You’ve all been deluded. A real life is built with your own two hands, not conjured by some eldritch filth. Pupil Town is a literal hell. Only Xiangping Town has a spark of hope left. I came here to help you people!”

Mu Sichen froze.

Despite hearing the familiar name “Xiangping Town,” he maintained his cover. “You’re the brainwashed Degenerate. The Great Existence protected us after the Cataclysm. If you keep following these heretical thoughts, He will abandon you.”

Shen Jiyue sighed, clearly exhausted by the “brain-dead” resident before him. He went back to his bread, muttering, “If I weren’t saving my strength to wake up you people who haven’t completely rotted yet, I wouldn’t touch this tainted food.”

As the man finished the bread, the burst blisters on his face began to knit back together. The brine-like stench faded.

Seeing that the man was stable, Mu Sichen didn’t reveal his true identity yet. He said coolly, “I’m going to find the doctor to ask about today’s treatment plan.”

“Is the treatment for me, or is it to ‘cure’ you?” Shen Jiyue looked at him. “Yesterday, I let you people get to me because my will wavered. Today, it won’t happen again.”

Mu Sichen glanced at Shen Jiyue’s waist. A heavy chain bound him to the bed, preventing him from leaving the room.

Mu Sichen said nothing. He turned and left, intent on finding the Medical Staff. He understood the roles of Patient and Family now. To win this game, he needed to understand the Volunteers and the Doctors.

Only by mastering the rules could he find the Pillar, save himself, and get Shen Jiyue out of this hellhole.

Author’s Note:

Qin Zhou: I bet that when he heard the words ‘Xiangping Town,’ Mu Sichen definitely thought of me! I heard it! I even took a peek at him!

Mu Sichen: I did think of you for a second. I’ll admit it.