Infinite Peculiar Games

The door of the old castle’s room was secured with the simplest mechanical lock, the kind that could be unlocked with just a piece of wire.

Holding the key, Qi Si unlocked the door and led the way into the room.

The yellowed wallpaper, stained with water marks and mould, had black ulcer-like spots speckled across the decaying ceiling. Grass sprouts broke through the floor, looking like worms on a sore, threatening to drip with pus at any moment.

A single oil lamp sat on the bedside table, providing the room’s only light source. In the centre stood a large bed, big enough for two people. To its right is an antique desk piled with books and notes.

Recalling his limited experience with horror games, Qi Si guessed there might be clues hidden there.

He walked over, his pale fingertips gliding across the yellowed papyrus cover. As he picked up the pages, a thought struck him, and he paused in midair.

After a few moments, his fingers twitched slightly, but he only absentmindedly flipped through the notebook on top without delving into further reading or exploration.

Just moments ago, he noticed there were no clocks in the room—nothing to indicate the exact time.

Something is very likely to happen tonight.

Qi Si took a few steps back, standing by the window to look outside.

It was already twilight. Through the dust-covered French windows, he could vaguely see a sea of roses in the garden.

The dense foliage formed a thick blanket, with flowers and leaves entwined and obscuring the view. Like watchful eyes, fine shadows peered coldly at Qi Si through the window.

Fortunately, the room had curtains. Qi Si drew them shut without hesitation—out of sight, out of mind.

Considering the frequent trope in horror movies where gusts of wind blow open curtains, he dragged a chair from beside the desk and pressed it against the curtains.

Afterwards, he checked the door gap to ensure there were no mechanisms to open it from the outside once it was locked.

With little time available, Qi Si reluctantly abandoned a more thorough check and returned to bed.

At first glance, the bed looked quite neat—nothing out of the ordinary.

He stared at it for a while, sensing something, then swiftly pulled back the bedsheet.

Under the yellowed white mattress lay a striking crimson European-style court gown, its intricate trimmings and beadwork flattened against the surface, evidently left there for a long time.

Qi Si picked up the dress and shook it, but unfortunately, nothing fell out.

Disappointing. If it were him, he would have hidden some body parts inside to give someone a real scare.

Lin Chen followed behind Qi Si into the room.

He had never played horror games before; his usual favourites were tower defence and open-world games.

But determined not to appear useless, he carefully explored the corners of the room, inch by inch, as if he were cleaning a dormitory.

Behind him, the rustling of fabric was followed by Qi Si’s sinister voice: “Lin Chen, do you think killing someone to possess them is a form of love?”

Lin Chen jolted upright and was met with an eerie sight as he turned.

The black-haired youth, wearing a smile, held the old-fashioned crimson dress in a manner that seemed perfectly ordinary but gave off a chilling vibe, like a deranged killer displaying his victim’s clothes.

Lin Chen pointed at the dress and stammered, “Brother Qi, wh-what’s going on?”

“This…” Qi Si lowered his head, his expression inscrutable in the shadows. “I fell in love with someone…”

“Huh?”

“She was so beautiful, no words can describe her beauty.” Qi Si’s voice was calm, but his words were tinged with madness. “I desperately and shamefully wanted to possess her. This love, not condoned by society, is destined to remain unspoken of…”

A sudden revelation swept over Lin Chen—he did not know Qi Si at all.

Qi Si was the only one who came from outside the castle, and his clothes were even stained with blood. Could he have already been replaced by a monstrosity?

Suggesting to share a room might not have been out of kindness. It could be that a psychopath with sinister motives has set their sights on him, planning to harm him without considering the consequences…

“What’s on your mind?”

Qi Si folded the dress and tossed it onto a nearby stool, clicking his tongue. “I found this dress under the mattress. My words earlier were just my speculation about the background story of this instance; it’s not necessarily accurate.”

Lin Chen heaved a sigh of relief, “I thought…”

“Thought what? If I were a psychopath, you wouldn’t be standing here unharmed right now. You’d either never wake up or wake up in a worse state.”

Qi Si finds great pleasure in manipulating others’ emotions repeatedly through language, gradually eroding their vigilance and making deception easier to carry out.

He watched Lin Chen with a half-smile, as if he had just made a harmless joke.

Lin Chen swallowed his saliva awkwardly, feeling he might have been overly paranoid. After all, how likely was it to encounter a psychopath intent on murder?

Then Qi Si changed the subject, his tone drawn out as he asked, “But what about you, Lin Chen? Are you really entering an instance for the first time? What do you do in real life, and how did you enter the game?”

Those who have not undergone interrogation training often find it challenging to respond to such sudden questions. Lin Chen’s life story until now immediately flashed into his mind.

His father was a labour worker, his mother was unemployed, and the family was burdened with hefty loans from the Federal Foundation. Through hard work, Lin Chen managed to get into a prestigious university and receive a scholarship…

Not long ago, Lin Chen was out tutoring someone. On the way back, he heard cries for help from a deep alley. Rushing over, he found a group of thugs harassing a girl…

In the heat of the moment, he stepped forward to reprimand the thugs, only to be swarmed and beaten, his consciousness fading…

Lin Chen recounted his life experiences as if emptying a bamboo tube filled with beans, saying whatever came to mind.

“Hm, cool story; at least it sounds plausible.”

Having probed Lin Chen’s background and also trapped him in a self-fulfilling prophecy*, Qi Si’s goal was achieved.

He laid back, calm and composed, “It’s getting late. We should sleep.”

Lin Chen wanted to say more, but he saw that Qi Si had already closed his eyes.

Huh? Just going to sleep like that? Without looking for clues first?

He pondered silently but did not dare to step on the toes of the “experienced player.” Embarrassed, he shut his mouth.

Without a clock in the room, it was impossible to know the exact time. The safest way to avoid breaking the rules was to sleep all the way till dawn.

Seeing Qi Si only occupying half the bed with plenty of space left, Lin Chen cautiously took off his shoes and climbed into bed.

Throughout, he deliberately kept a distance from Qi Si, fearing he might provoke any unpleasantness by accidentally bumping into him.

Qi Si noticed this and saw through Lin Chen’s psyche clearly as one sees a blazing fire.

He was a simple person, unaccustomed to the harsh realities of society, and was thrown into the Peculiar Games without warning, naturally feeling lost.

And at that time, Qi Si, the only one who had extended goodwill, was undoubtedly seen as a lifeline to Lin Chen—someone he must follow and please.

This was akin to the “Suspension Bridge Effect”* in psychology, a kind of pathological self-brainwashing.

Qi Si was not a psychologist and had no intention of correcting Lin Chen’s inferior mentality.

On the contrary, the situation was unfolding just as he had planned.

He squinted, grinning mischievously. “Lin Chen, actually, there’s a reason I chose to share a room with you.”

Lin Chen paused. “What reason?”

“Maybe because your name sounds like a protagonist in a novel, investing in you doesn’t seem like a bad idea.”

It was a joke—too tender against the pale, eerie backdrop of the Peculiar Games.

Previously plagued by a sense of mistrust and unease, Linchen, upon hearing the implicit message from Qi Si, evidently put down his suspicions and began to regard him as an ally.

He was stunned for two seconds before responding clumsily, “Uh… really? Haha, my parents love fantasy novels; they probably named me after a character…

“Sigh, I’m their only child. I have to take care of them when they’re old… I can’t die yet; I must survive…”

Small talk helps bridge the psychological distance and reduce the barriers between strangers. Too much, however, would seem forced.

Qi Si turned away, pulling the sheet over himself. “Lin Chen, you died because of ‘kindness.’ The Peculiar Games have given you a second chance, maybe as a reward for your good deeds. I have a feeling you’ll make it through.”

“But now it’s late, and if you want to survive, you’d better sleep soon to avoid breaking the rules.”

Qi Si had not indulged in the foolish act of praising someone’s kindness for many years, but it was the perfect thing to deceive a naive and foolish college student.

Lin Chen felt encouraged and nodded vigorously. “Mm-hmm! Thanks, Brother Qi. I’ll sleep right away!”

Qi Si waited until his roommate laid down, then propped himself up to blow out the oil lamp by the bed.

The flame flickered twice before going out, leaving behind a pitch-black darkness so thick that one could not discern their own hand in front of their face.

In the darkness that intertwined all objects and fears, soon came the trembling voice of Lin Chen: “B-Brother Qi, I’m a little scared, I can’t sleep…”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Qi Si said with his eyes closed. “I didn’t trust the other, so I didn’t say this at the dinner table. But now I can tell you, I’ve tested it out: Miss Anna is alive. Do you remember rule number seven?”

“Uh… only ghosts and monsters can kill humans, so Miss Anna can’t do anything to us?”

“Yes, so rest easy.”

Ten minutes have passed.

Lin Chen whimpered pitifully, “Brother Qi, I still can’t sleep… Usually, at this time, I’m still in night class, so I’m not sleepy at all…”

Zis responded coldly, “Count sheep till a thousand. If you don’t want to die, hurry up and sleep.”

Lin Chen: “Okay, okay!”

Half an hour later.

Lin Chen once again emitted a mosquito-like lament: “B-Brother Qi… I’m sorry…”

Feeling his tool’s fear as vivid as a flame, Qi-si opened his eyes in the darkness and let out a long sigh.

He grazed the bracelet on his right wrist, cycling through the small tools of blades, wires, and silver needles at his fingertips, finally settling on a blunt awl.

“Turn around,” he ordered.

“Ok.” Lin Chen was puzzled but obeyed anyway.

In the next second, Qi Si jabbed the awl into Lin Chen’s Feng Chi* acupoint.

Watching the weakling finally faint, Qi Si viciously stashed away his tools and closed his eyes again.

In the pitch-black silence, only shallow breathing could be heard.

In Qi Si’s mind, four lines of blood-red text slowly wove together, rooting in his memory as if they were alive.

【In my chest, decay takes hold】
【Flesh sprawls upon the earth’s fold】
【Here the roses find their nest】
【Tomorrow, with me, they shall rest】

Earlier, when Qi Si casually flipped through the notebook on the desk, he had only glanced at these four lines of poetry written on the first page.

At that time, as he habitually recited the lines in his heart, a sudden auditory hallucination of plants growing with a rustling sound arose in his ears. Alongside, the touch of his fingertips against the pages sparked an itch, as if something sought to penetrate his skin and delve into his blood vessels.

He immediately abandoned any further investigation, acting as if nothing had happened.

It seemed rather risky, so it would be wiser to wait until daylight and have his tool to investigate it more safely.

Yes, first trick Lin Chen into dealing with it, and if no results emerge, then lure the other players to trigger it. If no one takes the bait, resort to moral coercion…

As he schemed maliciously, Qi Si unknowingly drifted off to sleep.

(End of chapter)

——

*TL’s note:

A quatrain is a stanza of four lines, especially one with rhymes.

A self-fulfilling prophecy, also known as the Pygmalion effect, is an expectation or belief that can influence your behaviour, thus causing the belief to come true.

The “Suspension Bridge Effect” originated from the Suspension Bridge Study, demonstrating how environments inducing high physiological arousal can lead to misinterpreted emotions.

The Feng Chi acupoint, a point located at the top of the back of the neck, is known to ease insomnia in Chinese acupuncture.

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