There's definitely something wrong with this murder mystery game

This was what Churchill had said, originally referring to those who were tormented by depression, but also a reflection of other phenomena in the human soul.

The city seemed to be enveloped in darkness, and this darkness came from within people.

Xu Shuo arrived on the third floor, where Qiuzi lived; the stairwell reeked of decay, especially pungent on rainy days.

He took out a key from his backpack; it took several attempts to turn the rusty key in the lock before the old iron door creaked open. The room was dim and damp, and occasionally the sound of dripping water would come from the bathroom.

Not a great place to live, really.

Xu Shuo turned on the dim lights to reveal a small one-bedroom apartment. The table was covered with leftover food from lunch, the fats not yet solidified due to the heat of summer, creating a rather strange odor in the tightly shut room.

However, it was a room that looked run-down but was relatively clean and tidy.

He closed the door, walked over, and opened the window of the living room for ventilation. The drizzle outside instantly filled the room, and a cool breeze made the curtains gently sway.

Xu Shuo dutifully washed the dishes. The kitchen and bathroom were crammed together in a very tight space. The faucet in the bathroom couldn't be fully turned off, dripping water into a bucket from time to time, its sound clearly audible in the quiet house.

Afterward, he continued to explore the modest rental apartment, looking for something that might trigger the Character Card.

After all, acquiring a Character Card would directly unlock all the character's life memories, which would make it more convenient to explore the script and complete tasks.

Apart from the necessities, Qiuzi had very few personal items.

There were several contacts in her phone that she frequently communicated with, and a few chat histories on social media, but they were ordinary conversations about "dance practice" and "rest." Xu Shuo briefly took note of them after flipping through.

The room featured a large bed and a simple wardrobe, the latter filled with various ballet costumes and normal women's clothing, with no secret compartments for hiding things.

The dressing table was covered with make-up products he couldn't recognize.

Suddenly, Xu Shuo saw an upside-down wooden frame on top of the dressing table.

Righting the frame, he found a photo of two girls who seemed to share a close relationship, smiling brightly as they sat cross-legged in their dance attire in a dance studio.

A potentially useful clue discovered.

Xu Shuo raised an eyebrow, took out Qiuzi's phone to check the photo gallery, and among the pile of selfies, found the girl from the picture.

Besides Qiuzi and this girl, there were three other individuals who also appeared frequently on camera; however, it was clear that this girl, who had specially printed the photo, had a closer relationship with the character.

And their background was always the dance studio.

Could this be the classic three-choice pattern?

Qiuzi was about to participate in a competition, closely related to ballet, which explained why she had been practicing so late every day.

Yet tonight, she had been murdered.

Could it be out of jealousy?

Xu Shuo ran his fingers along the edge of the frame, sitting in the dimly lit room and pondering. Outside, the rain was subsiding, but the sound of water dripping from the bathroom tap seemed to grow louder.

It was as if something had appeared, darkening and thickening the room, the dripping sounds becoming increasingly harsh.

Xu Shuo turned his neck slightly, his pitch-black eyes narrowing to a sharper gaze. The dim light overhead cast reflections on the pale and delicate skin of the girl, revealing a lustrous sheen.

His body suddenly became stiff, and the movement of his fingertips made a clicking sound—a sign that this body was not the same as before.

Xu Shuo had almost forgotten that he was now a dead person.

Speaking of which, won't this body show signs of rigor mortis over time? Will it develop mottling? It won't, right?

In this stiffened state, the thick feeling in the darkness became acutely clear. The ticking sound from afar seemed to drift over like an ethereal melody.

Xu Shuo felt as if some strange entity had attached itself to his back, sending a cold shiver of a touch that swept over him, and although breathing was no longer necessary, he was still struck by an overwhelming sensation of suffocation and oppression.

But in the next moment, his rigid body gradually relaxed.

The darkness, like the sea, ebbed and flowed; the pressing sensation of suffocation quickly receded, and the pitter-patter of rain could once again be heard outside the window.

His body regained normal control.

Xu Shuo raised his hand and touched his own soft neck.

What was that thing just now?

If it was the thing that had resurrected Qiuzi, then it seemed his time was running out—the entity was claiming something.
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Xu Shuo got up and walked to the vanity, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

The girl still had a pallid complexion, frail and delicate as if she had just been through a severe illness, with large eyes whose black, lifeless pupils seemed to swirl with something sinister, almost eerily dark.

Xu Shuo blinked his eyes, to no avail, so he curved his eyebrows into crescents and cracked a brilliant smile.

It was even more eerie.

He couldn't help but roll his eyes and flopped backwards onto the bed, then rolled over with the blanket.

The policewoman today seemed to already be suspicious of his abnormal behavior, and he didn't know what the context of this world was; if there really were some strange entities that could be detected...

After a brief internal wail, Xu Shuo sat back down at the vanity and stared at the makeup products in deep contemplation.

He should be able to learn to apply makeup in one night!

...

The city had plunged into darkness and silence.

The blinking neon lights gradually faded, leaving only the faint lamplight swaying in the wind and rain on the streets; the downpour intensified, loudly splashing onto the ground, running along the edges of the streets and into the drains.

Dark rats rummaged beside the trash cans, and like startled birds, they dashed into an alley at the splash of rainwater.

A figure draped in a trench coat walked through the night, glancing around with fright and fear, his steps hurried as he trudged through the waterlogged ground until the building tall as a tower loomed before him, only then did he show relief.

The man rushed toward the structure as if something terrifying were chasing him and arrived at the tightly closed doors, pounding on them vigorously.

"Is anyone there? Is anyone there?"

He dared not shout loudly but could only call out in a hushed, hoarse voice, trembling with urgency.

After a short while, the heavy doors were pushed open by his effort; the man, overjoyed, quickly slipped inside.

In the large and spacious church, a giant crucifix mounted on the wall shone brightly, while the colored stained-glass windows on either side refracted neon light, casting an ethereal and misty pattern on the floor.

Above the prayer stand, there was a figure with his back to the door, seemingly praying to the crucifix.

"Father! Save me!"

The man cried out as he rushed forward, kneeling on the ground in panic.

Hearing the noise, the person above turned around, his weathered face solemn yet not lacking in kindness.

But as he looked at the man kneeling below, startled and frightened, soul unguarded, the compassionate priest's mouth slowly curved into a smile, as if he had been waiting for him for a long time.

"Confess your sins, the Lord will forgive you."