He Fei arrived at the office half an hour early. After meticulously wiping down his desk, he sat in his chair and began to grapple with a serious question: Why on earth am I at work so early?

He was just an intern—not even a senior needing a corporate seal for credit, but a student forced by his parents to do something productive over the summer. He didn’t even need the pocket money. Normally, his style was to slide into the office at the very last second to clock in. Yet, for several days now, he’d been arriving thirty minutes early. What was he playing at?

Furthermore, it was summer break. Not only was he not slacking off at work, but he was also heading home to diligently pre-study his coursework. He hadn’t touched a video game in days. What was wrong with him?

Reflecting on his behavior, He Fei suspected he’d been possessed. But who gets possessed by a spirit of early rising, hard work, and academic rigor? He’d even cleaned the dorm—scrubbing windows, cabinets, and hand-washing his bedsheets.

He Fei let his head thud onto the desk. If this was what “being hexed” felt like, he figured he could stay hexed for a while; at least his parents wouldn’t nag him anymore.

When the workday finally officially began, He Fei breezed through his tasks. Breaking from his recent “perfect employee” persona, he rejected several extra assignments foisted on him by colleagues and sat back to scroll through his phone.

That was when Sister Su, the young, attractive colleague with the bold style, approached him. She sat right on the armrest of his chair, her leg practically on his lap.

For a split second, He Fei was dazed by her daring outfit; he even felt a flush of youthful heat. But a second later, a wave of intense revulsion and nausea washed over him. She was a beautiful woman—the kind of person He Fei would usually stop to admire on a short-video feed—but looking at her now made him want to retch.

He shoved her aside and bolted for the restroom, dry-heaving over a sink. He wondered if he was coming down with something.

To his horror, Sister Su followed him right into the men’s room. She stood behind him, cooing with concern. “Xiao Fei, what’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell? Why don’t you take a nap? Here, I’ll give you this pillow.”

She shoved a nap pillow into his arms. The moment He Fei saw the pattern, it became unbearable. He snatched the pillow, threw it into a toilet stall, grabbed a mop, and began aggressively shoving the pillow down the drain. He didn’t stop until the pattern was completely obscured. Only then did the tightness in his chest ease.

Behind him, Sister Su’s face contorted with a level of muscular distortion that shouldn’t be humanly possible. She looked as though He Fei had just desecrated the holiest, most beautiful thing in her world.

Seeing her twisted expression, He Fei realized what he’d done. He tried to apologize. “Sister Su, I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I just… I look at you and I feel sick. Gag…“

He meant to say sorry, but the revulsion was too strong. He dry-heaved again, pushed past her, and ran back to the office to grab his bag. “Manager,” he choked out, “I’m sick. Going to the hospital. Taking a half-day.”

He didn’t feel relief until he had sprinted out of the building. He smacked his forehead. “What’s wrong with me? Did Mu Sichen give me some kind of virus?”

As he puzzled over it, his phone buzzed with an email notification.

[Dear Player, your astounding luck has made you stand out in our town construction efforts. “My Ideal Town” sincerely invites you to participate in our closed beta. If you are willing to help us build the most ideal town, please fill out your information and download the client below.]

“What kind of game is this? Farming? Base-building? If there’s gardening, I guess I’ll give it a try.” He Fei casually filled in his details.

Mu Sichen slept fitfully all morning. He woke up around 10:00 AM, finished the breakfast He Fei had left, and fell back asleep. When he finally sat up at 2:00 PM, he felt light and refreshed, as if the previous day’s misery had been a bad dream.

He checked the game’s personal space on his laptop. His energy had recovered, and there was a new notification: a mobile app was now available for download.

This was a double-edged sword. An app was convenient and would allow the team to communicate inside the game, but it also meant the System’s reach into reality was strengthening.

He downloaded the app. The interface was far more polished than the web version, featuring a group chat function for friends. He created a group and added his contacts.

To his surprise, there were four people in the chat.

Aside from Chi Lian and Cheng Xubo, there was a fourth member with a pixelated avatar and a name displayed as “****.” The account appeared to be offline.

Who is this? Mu Sichen wondered.

Chi Lian: The app is live! Captain, why the group chat? Is something happening? Wait, who’s the extra person? Their name is hidden.

Cheng Xubo: Captain Mu, is that Ying Mao?

Cheng Xubo’s suggestion made sense. Ying Mao had used the Self-Sticker and died shortly after; a greyed-out avatar fit his status as a “follower” who had passed away.

Mu Sichen pushed the thought aside and briefed them on the butterfly totem at the office, warning them to watch for similar patterns.

Chi Lian: I know that company! We’ve worked with them before. I can’t believe they’re compromised. How many people are under that butterfly’s thumb?

Mu Sichen: I’m planning to print my Self-Totem as stickers and infiltrate the place as a cleaner tomorrow. I’ll stick them over the pillows.

It was a painful plan—printing stickers would cost even more money. His finances were in shambles.

Cheng Xubo: Don’t bother with stickers. If the enemy’s power is leaking into reality, exposing your totem physically might be dangerous. I’ll make a one-time sharing link. Have your roommate send the link to whoever is using the pillows. Once they view it, the link expires. It’s cheaper and safer.

It was a brilliant idea, but Mu Sichen hesitated. He didn’t want to drag He Fei deeper into this. He Fei was unlucky enough as it was.

Mu Sichen: I’ll think about it.

He put down his phone and picked up the knock-off plushie, absentmindedly squeezing its little tentacle. The limb curled around his wrist, letting him pet it.

“The lively tentacle next to Qin Zhou last night… that was you, wasn’t it?” Mu Sichen whispered. “Thanks for clearing the pollution for me.”

The tentacle rubbed against the inside of his wrist contentedly.

“Why did Qin Zhou want me to take my power back?” Mu Sichen mused. “I’m just a Pillar-level player. Surely He could have wiped my influence out if He wanted to.”

The tentacle reached up to Mu Sichen’s forehead, projecting a thought into his mind: [“Self” is not pollution.]

Mu Sichen sat up straight. “You mean my power is different from the other Gods? It’s not a mental infection? Then why do Chi Lian and Cheng Xubo feel sick when they see the octopus?”

[It is resistance,] the tentacle signaled, pressing softly against his brow.

Mu Sichen understood. His power didn’t overwrite a person’s cognition like the Sky Eye or the Moon. It didn’t force them to worship. Instead, it activated the inherent strength and “Self” already within them. The discomfort his friends felt was their “Self” reacting to the external pollution of the God’s form.

When he had established his semi-domain and purged the Moon’s influence, his power evolved from a potential infection into a protective shell for the soul.

“So, did I wake up Qin Zhou’s ‘Self’? Is that why He can’t maintain ‘Absolute Rationality’ anymore?” Mu Sichen asked. “Is He getting weaker?”

The doll went silent, refusing to answer.

Mu Sichen eventually got up to find a snack. Remembering the little octopus loved treats, he opened a Coke and let the doll “drink” some. Unfortunately, being a knock-off made of normal fabric, the doll just ended up soggy and miserable. Mu Sichen had to spend an hour cleaning it and drying it with He Fei’s hairdryer.

By 7:00 PM, the doll was dry. By 10:00 PM, He Fei still wasn’t home.

Mu Sichen grew uneasy. He called He Fei, but the line was dead. He put on the gold-rimmed glasses. “Where is He Fei?”

The glasses didn’t show a location. Instead, he saw a vision of a phone—He Fei’s phone—displaying the “My Ideal Town” app.

The vision faded. Mu Sichen’s heart sank. He Fei had entered the game.

He checked his phone app. A notification flashed in the group chat. The fourth avatar was no longer grey. It was now a pair of metallic wings, and the ID was “Your Brother Fei.”

Your Brother Fei: Whoa, I have a group chat? Are you guys beta testers too? Hi everyone! Any tips? This place is crazy!

Your Brother Fei: This VR is so realistic! I’m at a huge library. “First Quarter Library”… cool name. I’m gonna go check it out.

Mu Sichen’s blood ran cold.

Two days ago, it was the “Crescent Moon Library.” Now it was the “First Quarter.” The Moon was growing. And He Fei, with his legendary bad luck, hadn’t spawned in Mu Sichen’s safe zone. He had landed right in the heart of the territory occupied by the Moon—Shen Jiyue.

Author’s Note:

He Fei: “Your astounding luck has made you stand out”? Hahaha! I knew I was lucky!

Mu Sichen: …