[Sanity: 59 -> 54 -> 50]
That head turned around. Accompanied by the crack of cervical vertebrae being forcibly twisted, it defied ergonomics to face me directly.
But I didn't see a face.
In the center of that pale visage, where the facial features should have been, they were replaced by a frantically flashing Purple and Black Checkerboard Block.
That wasn't a mask; that was Void. It was as if a piece of reality in this area had been gouged out, revealing the underlying error code. Black garbled text constantly overflowed from the edges of the block, dripping onto the ground like pus, emitting a zzzt corrosion sound.
Fear, like a pair of cold hands, gripped my heart tight.
Zzzt—
[WARNING: Spatial Fold!]
The vision before my eyes suddenly blurred. No process, no movement trajectory. One second she was in front of the mirror ten meters away; the next second, a magnified purple-black block directly occupied my entire field of vision.
A nauseating stench hit my face—a mix of rust, burnt wires, and formalin.
Snip!
The giant, rusty tailoring shears, half a meter long, suddenly opened. The cold blades pressed directly against both sides of my neck. The pivot of the shears pressed against my Adam's apple, and the blades on both sides clamped right onto my arteries. If she moved her finger even slightly, my head would roll off cleanly just like that mechanical hound.
My whole body went stiff, and even my breathing stopped. I could feel the tiny serrations on the shears scraping my skin; the stinging pain was exceptionally clear.
That purple-black block was right in front of my eyes, emitting a noise that sounded like countless resentful women crying in unison, or radio interference.
"L... Look... at... me..."
The voice exploded directly inside my brain. Sharp, distorted, carrying a neurotic tremor.
"Am... I... beautiful?"
The Death Question.
This is a classic No-Win Scenario. In urban legends, answering "No" gets you killed; answering "Yes" gets the corners of your mouth cut open. But in this Data Wasteland, the consequences might be even worse—deletion, or becoming part of that block.
My brain spun frantically in a state of hypoxia. Sweat flowed down my forehead into my eyes, stinging badly, but I didn't dare blink.
"..."
Seeing I didn't speak, she got anxious. That purple-black block flashed frantically, turning crimson.
"SPEAK!!! LIAR!! MEN ARE ALL LIARS!!!"
She suddenly let out a miserable scream, and the shears in her hand tightened abruptly.
"Hiss!"
Severe pain struck. The sharp blades cut my skin, and warm blood flowed down my neck.
"WAIT!"
I roared a millisecond before death. My voice was hoarse because my throat was being pressed, sounding like air leaking.
"You... Of course you are beautiful." I gasped for air, forcing myself to look straight at that terrifying block. "But I can't see clearly."
The movement of the shears paused. "Can't... see... clearly?"
"Right! Can't see clearly!" I pointed at the dim skylight around us, my tone becoming rapid and angry (fake anger, used to mask fear).
"It's not your problem; it's this world's problem!"
I had to derail her logic within these split seconds.
"Look at the lighting here; it's full of noise! Look at the mirrors on the ground; they are all low-resolution trash!" I roared loudly, like a Product Manager extremely dissatisfied with the working environment.
"Ma'am! Your data volume is too massive! Your beauty is High-Precision! It's 8K! It's Ray-Tracing Level!" "But this broken dump, it only has 360p resolution! It simply cannot render your face!"
The Woman in Red had obviously never heard this kind of explanation. Her chaotic logic code jammed. The shears were still on my neck, but she stopped applying force.
"Ren... der?" She repeated the word, a trace of confusion in her tone.
"Exactly! Rendering!"
Seizing the moment, ignoring the blood still flowing from my neck, I raised my hand and pointed at the block on her face.
"Do you know why this block exists? This isn't ugliness; this is a System Crash!" "It's because your appearance score is too high; the graphics card in this area burned out trying to load it! So the system can only use this block to cover up its incompetence!"
I got more and more excited as I spoke, even adopting an attitude of "shared hatred against a common enemy."
"This is unfair! This is too unfair to you!" "You are trapped in this low-spec server, crying at these broken mirrors. What's the use? No matter how many mirrors there are, they are just piles of garbage code!"
The Woman in Red fell silent.
The block on her face turned from crimson back to purple-black, the flickering frequency slowing down. The shears also loosened by a centimeter, finally allowing me to catch my breath.
She seemed to be digesting my words: I am high-precision? The world isn't worthy of me? Is that why I have no face?
This sounded... much more pleasant to the ear than "I am ugly."
However, as an aggregate of resentment, she wasn't that easy to fool.
"Proof..."
She suddenly leaned her face closer, that smell of rot surrounding me again. The shears raised once more, the tips aimed at my eyeballs.
"You... are... lying..." "If you... cannot prove it... I will... cut open your eyes... and see if the inside... is High-Definition..."
[WARNING: Negotiation nearing collapse!] [WARNING: Opponent's Killing Intent soaring!]
My back was covered in cold sweat. She wanted proof. I was empty-handed; how could I prove I had a "High-Spec" environment?
No, I do. I do have it.
I spun around abruptly, pointing to the building looming in the fog two hundred meters behind me.
In that pitch-black, dead wasteland, only that place was lit with warm, stable, and bright light. That was the light powered by the Arc Reactor. That was the only lighthouse of civilization in this garbage heap.
"Look there!"
I shouted loudly.
"That is my turf! The Shadow Hotel!" "There is an independent Nuclear Fusion Energy Core there! There is stable high-bandwidth data flow! The lights there have no noise!"
I looked at her, my eyes carrying a look of going all-in.
"I am the Administrator there. I came here not to mock you, but to Headhunt you."
"Stay here, and you will forever be a texture-error Bug, forever fighting mechanical dogs for scraps." "But come with me."
I extended my right hand. Although my fingers were trembling violently, I tried my best to keep my palm facing up, making an inviting gesture.
"Go to my server. I can use Administrator privileges to find a Compatibility Patch for you." "I can't guarantee I'll fix your face immediately (Drawing a big pie), but I can promise I will provide you with the top-tier computing power support in this wasteland!"
"One day, I will let your face reload." "I want everyone to see what breathtaking beauty is hidden beneath this square!"
The wind stopped. The crying stopped too.
The Woman in Red stood there, the giant shears still suspended in mid-air, the blades stained with the blood from my neck.
She looked at me, then looked at the hotel shining in the dark distance. The block flickered repeatedly between purple-black and gray-white.
She was weighing her options. Kill me to vent her anger? Or gamble on that hope of "Reloading"?
Time seemed to freeze. Every second felt like a year.
Finally.
Clang.
The crisp sound of metal hitting the ground. The giant shears didn't fall to the ground; instead, she lowered them, the tips touching the dirt.
The block on her face turned into a stable pale purple.
"If you... lie to me..."
The voice was no longer sharp, but became low, gloomy, revealing a chill that penetrated the bone marrow.
"I will cut you... into... Binary Code."
I let out a long breath, feeling my legs go so soft I could barely stand. I won the bet.
Although she didn't fully believe it, the temptation of "High-Spec" was too great. For an Urban Legend suffering from "Display Error," this was simply a Dimensional Strike to her worldview.
She slowly extended that pale hand. The nails were sharp, like razor blades.
She didn't shake my hand (probably afraid she'd crush me if she used force), but tapped the back of my hand gently with her fingertip.
Cold. Like a drop of liquid nitrogen on my skin.
Ding!
[Contract Established.] [Congratulations, you have successfully recruited your first employee!]
[Employee File]
Codename: Slit-Mouthed Woman (Data Error Version / Texture_Error)
Rarity: SR (Variant)
Position: TBD (Suggested: Security/Front Desk)
Loyalty: 25 (Extremely Low / Skeptical)
Current Status: Hungry / Expectant
Special Need: She requires massive amounts of "Attention" and "Praise" to maintain data stability.
I looked at that "Loyalty 25" and smiled bitterly. 5 points higher than expected; it seems that "8K Peerless Beauty" flattery just now hit the spot.
I withdrew my hand, wiped the blood from my neck, and adjusted my collar. Although I looked messy, my aura had completely changed at this moment.
I was no longer a survivor. I am the Boss.
"Wise choice, Ma'am."
I turned around, putting my back to her (giving your back to a vengeful spirit requires immense courage, but this is the first step in building trust), and stepped toward the hotel.
"Keep up. Let's go home." "By the way, there might be some dirty things (Paper Effigy Ghosts) causing trouble tonight. When the time comes... could I ask you to demonstrate the combat power of a 'High-End Graphics Card'?"
Behind me came the sound of metal shears dragging on the ground. Scrape—Scrape—
The sound was still terrifying, but to my ears, it was the most melodious sound of security.
"Hee..."
An extremely faint laugh came from behind. I couldn't tell if it was mockery or happiness.
But at least, she was following.