Wang Zikai dangled upside-down from a rope tied to the 601 window, a bullet lodged squarely in his chest.
Qing Ling reacted instantly. With a flick of her wrist, a blade severed the rope. She caught Zikai mid-fall and yanked him through the window, shouting at Gao Yang, "Don't just stand there—help!"
One Minute Earlier
After losing three ranked matches in a row, Wang Zikai's suspicion grew.
Gao Yang? A ladies' man? Impossible! The guy had fumbled with Li Weiwei for years. Now suddenly he's banging the school's ice queen in a love hotel? Bullshit.
There had to be another explanation.
Were they... studying together?!
No—Qing Ling was a sports recruit; grades didn't matter. And Gao Yang, while decent academically, was too lazy for secret grind sessions.
Zikai pressed his ear to the floor. Too quiet. No bed noises. And even if they'd hooked up, Gao Yang would've called back by now.
Only one conclusion remained:
—That bastard found a new gaming duo! He thinks I suck!
Unforgivable.
Confronting Gao Yang directly wouldn't work. So Zikai grabbed a "bondage rope" from the room's "toybox," tied it around his waist, and rappelled down from the sixth floor—ready to expose the betrayal.
As he descended toward the fifth-floor window, the curtains parted slightly. A gun barrel poked out.
What the—
His foot slipped off the AC unit. He dropped—just as the gun fired.
White-hot pain exploded in his chest. Darkness swallowed him.
Now, Zikai lay unconscious on the carpet, blood pooling beneath him.
"Massive hemorrhage! Apply pressure!" Qing Ling ordered.
Gao Yang sprinted to the bathroom, returning with towels to staunch the wound. The fabric darkened instantly.
A normal human would've had a fist-sized hole in their chest from point-blank sniper fire. Yet Zikai's injury seemed... mild.
Definitely a beast.
"What now?" Gao Yang asked.
"No idea." Qing Ling hadn't accounted for this idiot derailing the plan.
"We save him." Gao Yang's decision was instant.
"Suicide's your business. Don't drag me in."
"Or what? Leave a corpse with our check-in records? We're screwed either way." He steadied his breathing. "He's... probably a Lost One."
A Lost One—a beast so deluded it believed itself human, even in death.
Qing Ling's eyes flickered with hesitation. Then hardened. A dagger materialized in her grip. "Too risky. If he's not lost, we die."
Her cousin had died showing mercy to a Lost One.
Gao Yang knew he couldn't convince her—or himself. Mercy to enemies was cruelty to oneself.
After three seconds of silence, he turned away. "Do it."
Knock-knock-knock.
Gao Yang yanked the bedsheet over Zikai's body.
Qing Ling cracked the door open. "Who?"
The lobby clerk—the fat JoJo fan—stood there, sweating bullets. "Let me in! Quick!"
"Why?"
He glanced left and right, whispering, "I know what's happening. I'm awakened too..."
Qing Ling weighed her options.
Slit his throat? Or hear him out?
She chose the latter.
The clerk—Han Yingjun, aka "Fatty Jun"—pressed his palms against Zikai's chest.
Green energy pulsed from his hands, knitting torn flesh and bone. The bullet, already extracted by Qing Ling, left a closing wound.
Five minutes later, it was over.
Fatty Jun collapsed, drenched in sweat. "Fuck... Lucky he's a beast. A human would've been toast."
Between gasps, he'd explained:
Awakened four years ago. Talent: Healer (Sequence 45). Orphaned young, raised by an aunt. Inherited her motel, rebranded it as a love hotel after her death.
Qing Ling checked Zikai's pulse. "Clean up," she ordered Gao Yang, then turned to Fatty Jun. "How'd you know?"
"Uh..." He chuckled nervously. "I, ah... may have installed hidden cameras and bugs—"
A tangdao flashed against his triple-chinned neck.
"WAIT! Let me explain!"
"Ten seconds."
"First—no cameras in the bathroom! I have standards!" He wiped sweat off his brow. "And it's not for perving! I'm a man of higher pursuits..."
"Get to the point."
"Aren't you curious?" Fatty Jun nudged the blade away slightly. "What beasts are really like?"
Qing Ling's sword vanished. "You've been observing them?"
"After awakening, my whole worldview shattered!" He glanced at Zikai. "So I wondered—do they ever drop the act?"
"Lost Ones? Fine, they're self-deluded. But the others? Why keep pretending?" He looked at Gao Yang. "Don't you wonder?"
"Awakened three days ago. Still processing." Gao Yang mopped blood.
"The cameras... I wanted to see their private behavior." Fatty Jun sighed. "Turns out? They never break character. Even alone, they're method actors."
Gao Yang and Qing Ling exchanged glances.
"Also... I was searching for humans." Fatty Jun's voice cracked. "The guy who awakened me died. Four years alone... until you showed up..."
Overcome, he lunged for a hug—aborted by Qing Ling's glare—and settled for squeezing Gao Yang. "I'm so happy... Thought I'd die alone..."
Sobs wracked his chubby frame. "Every day... acting... Three years pass, then three more... When does it end...?"
Gao Yang patted his back awkwardly. "There, there..."
Knock-knock-knock.
Silence.
All eyes turned to Fatty Jun, who shook his head, baffled.
Qing Ling drew her blade. Gao Yang nodded, approaching the door.
"Who is it?"
"Housekeeping," an elderly woman's voice replied.
"Housekeeping?"
"Room 501 shows as checked out."
"No, you've got the wrong room."
"My mistake. Let me check again..."
Fatty Jun whispered, "It's Auntie He. My cleaner. Bit senile."
"Ah... Sorry, wrong room. Must be 401, hehe..."
Gao Yang relaxed—then froze.
A primal warning screamed in his spine.
He whirled, shoving Fatty Jun aside—
"MOVE!"