While speaking with Shen Jiyue, Mu Sichen had already conducted a discreet, thorough sweep of the ward.

Call buttons were positioned by the bed and the door, and a list of daily regulations was posted on the frame. It detailed meal times and treatment schedules, but one note stood out: Every day, before 7:55 PM, medical staff, volunteers, and family members must earn sufficient Contribution Points to leave the hospital. Before departing, curtains must be drawn tight and doors double-locked to prevent patients from leaving.

The cycle repeated the next day. Mu Sichen still didn’t know how to earn points, but he knew one thing: if he didn’t act fast, he would become Shen Jiyue’s next “dose” of medicine.

He tracked down the doctor’s office. Flashlight in one hand, the other curled into a phantom grip ready to summon his pickaxe, he prepared for the worst. If the doctor was rational, he’d negotiate. If not, he’d let the pickaxe do the talking.

Mu Sichen wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. He reached the office nearest the ward, pressed his ear to the wood, and—hearing movement—pushed the door open. He had been prepared to smash the lock, though he dreaded the potential “penalty” for property damage.

To his relief, it was unlocked.

The room was a disaster zone. Files were strewn across the floor, and a man in a white lab coat was tearing through drawers like a looter. Mu Sichen recognized him instantly: it was +543 from the plaza.

This man was clearly a “Degenerate,” and his presence here confirmed that this sanitarium was a focal point for resisting the Big Eye.

The doctor looked up, a flash of hostility in his eyes. Mu Sichen acted quickly to defuse the tension. He raised his flashlight, aiming it toward the man. “Doctor, what are you doing?”

The flashlight was a foreign object from outside the town. To a Follower, it was a weapon; to someone from Xiangping Town, it was a signal of alliance. If Mu Sichen’s hunch was right, this would prove they were on the same side. If he was wrong, he at least had a weapon to defend himself.

The murderous intent in +543’s eyes faded slightly, though he remained coiled for a fight. He sized Mu Sichen up. His name tag read: Doctor: Yao Wangping.

Mu Sichen remembered the name from the logbook. Yao had signed in just before him.

Yao Wangping stared at him and suddenly uttered a phrase: “When the Primordial awakes under the gaze of the stars, all shall return to chaos.”

Mu Sichen: “…”

A coded countersign. Yao had seen the flashlight and guessed Mu Sichen was from Xiangping Town, or at least influenced by it, but he needed a verbal confirmation.

Mu Sichen had no idea what the response was. But he wasn’t without a plan.

With a composed face, Mu Sichen said, “I don’t know the answer to that. But I can tell you this: Qin Zhou, Qin Zhou, Qin Zhou, Qin Zhou, Qin Zhou…“

He was desperate. He couldn’t fight Big Eye alone, he didn’t understand the rules of this world, and he needed an ally. Yao Wangping was the only capable, rational person he had encountered. If anything could bridge the gap, it was the name that seemed to haunt this world’s resistance.

Perhaps it was the repetition or the sheer, exhausted sincerity in his voice, but Mu Sichen felt that gaze again.

Yao Wangping, who had been ready to strike, froze. He looked at Mu Sichen with genuine confusion. Mu Sichen felt a flicker of hope; he prepared to mention Shen Jiyue’s name to solidify the bond.

Suddenly, the weight of the gaze shifted. It no longer felt distant, like it was coming from across an ocean; it felt like it was standing right next to him.

But the pressure wasn’t crushing. It was… focused.

Mu Sichen suspected Qin Zhou might actually be present. He looked at Yao’s left shoulder—it was empty.

He hesitated, then covered his right eye.

Since the “peek,” his vision had changed. With both eyes, the world looked normal. With only his left eye, the world was a blur of mist—unless he looked at things the “normal” world couldn’t see.

Through his left eye, the office transformed. Perched on Yao Wangping’s left shoulder was a “chibi” version of an octopus. It was oddly adorable, with massive,萌 (moe) eyes and eight tentacles that flickered in and out of existence. One tentacle had already stretched out across the air, reaching toward Mu Sichen’s face.

Mu Sichen: “…”

The octopus looked like a plush toy, but its gaze was deadly serious—identical to the pressure he had felt before.

Just as the tentacle was about to brush his cheek, Mu Sichen let go of his right eye. The vision vanished instantly.

He pointed a finger at Yao’s empty shoulder. “Is Qin Zhou… on your left shoulder?”

Yao Wangping’s hand flew to his shoulder. He stared at Mu Sichen with cold intensity. “So, you not only know General Qin’s name, but you can see his totem. Who are you?”

General Qin! The title sent a wave of relief through Mu Sichen. “General”—a normal, human military rank. Not “Great Existence,” not “Sky-Pupil,” not “Guardian Deity.” After five hours of listening to rhythmic, cult-like chanting, a piece of mundane human vocabulary felt like a lifeline from another life.

Mu Sichen raised his hands in a gesture of peace. “I’m just someone trying to survive under the Big Eye’s rule. I heard the radio broadcast about Qin Zhou. I don’t want to go mad, and I don’t want to turn into a monster covered in eyes. I just want to live.

“I have a… unique ability. I can see a person’s mental state. I saw you in the plaza and realized you were the only one worth trusting, so I followed you here.”

Aside from omitting the “System,” he was telling the truth.

“Big Eye?” Yao Wangping repeated.

Mu Sichen pointed at the ceiling. “Him. The one the whole town is obsessed with.”

“That’s a good nickname,” Yao said, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile that looked as mechanical as a robot’s. The humor didn’t reach his eyes. In fact, Mu Sichen realized he couldn’t sense any real human emotion coming from the man at all.

Yao stepped closer. He saw Mu Sichen’s badge. “You’re a ‘Family Member.’ You’re likely telling the truth; a Follower would never be assigned that role.”

“The guard said I was a ‘Volunteer’ when I entered,” Mu Sichen noted.

“Followers are Volunteers,” Yao explained. “Residents with their own thoughts or Degenerates are classified as ‘Family’ or ‘Patients’.”

Mu Sichen took a step back, looking at Yao’s “Doctor” badge with a creeping sense of dread.

Yao noticed the look. He touched his own badge. “Volunteer, Family, and Patient are assigned automatically upon entry. Medical Staff are either original employees… or those who find a way to take the position.”

“How do you become Medical Staff?” Mu Sichen asked. In a place like this, the Doctor held all the cards.

“I don’t trust you yet,” Yao said bluntly. “And without trust, there is no cooperation.”

“How do I earn it?”

“Words and emotions can be faked,” Yao said. “Only a shared faith cannot. If you take the totem of General Qin, we are of the same camp.”

Mu Sichen fell silent.

Yao Wangping was sharp. He had dangled just enough information to give Mu Sichen hope, then slammed the door shut, demanding total commitment. It was a classic “carrot and stick” maneuver.

Mu Sichen understood it. In this world, trusting a stranger was suicide. But that logic applied to him, too. Did he really want to brand himself with a totem he didn’t fully understand?

He did a quick mental calculation. Option A: No Cooperation. He had no information, a weak skill, and an empty MP bar. He would eventually become a “dose” for Shen Jiyue, grow fish-eye blisters, and die a screaming lunatic. Option B: Cooperation. Join Qin Zhou’s camp. Work with Yao. Learn the rules. Survive.

The choice was an illusion. If he refused, he’d likely end up as a “happy” Follower of Big Eye. If he joined, he’d stay rational—even if it meant being Yao’s subordinate. Yao was smart, which meant his boss, Qin Zhou, was probably smarter.

Mu Sichen nodded. “I accept.”

“Good,” Yao Wangping said. “Close your eyes. Take two steps back. Stand against the wall and bare your left shoulder.”

Author’s Note:

Qin Zhou (rubbing his tentacles): He’s coming, he’s coming, he’s coming!!! Mu Sichen (grinding his teeth): I really want some grilled squid right now.

PS: The “Love Interest” isn’t actually an octopus; he’s a handsome guy (emphasized!). The tentacles are just his totem and power. (That’s all the spoilers you get!)

PS of PS: These little theater segments are just for fun and to restore your SAN. Qin Zhou takes no responsibility for the contents herein; it’s all slander!