Chen Ge's mind was already mapping out the next Trial Mission, the rusted key a cold promise in his pocket. Before daring the Third Sick Hall, he decided, he would test the young man's claim about cats. A stray dropped into the Mu Yang High School scenario at the Haunted House could confirm whether the mirror-born entities truly feared them. If it worked, it would be a new weapon against the other side's denizens, a low-risk experiment that could save lives later. Even without stepping into the hospital's bloodied corridors, the night's haul felt invaluable: the dual-faced monster's weaknesses, its fear of Red Specters, and now this key. Glancing at the bandaged young man, Chen Ge extended the key, its pitted surface catching the room's dim light. "Have you seen this before?" he asked, voice steady but expectant, the question a probe into the entity's secrets.
The young man's eyes widened slightly, recognition flickering through the fog of pain and exhaustion. "I have," he admitted, nodding slowly. "Every sunrise, I'd sneak into Room 303 to clear out the animal carcasses—part of the deal to keep the man in my dreams at bay. One morning, while sorting through the bloodied clothes under the carpet, I found this key tangled in a jacket pocket. It stood out—too big, too old for Hai Ming's locks." His fingers twitched as if recalling the chill of the metal, the memory sharpening his voice. Chen Ge leaned closer, the black phone's mission pulsing in his mind. "Did the man in your dreams ever mention this key? A special door, a room, anything?" The young man's brow furrowed, his gaze drifting as he sifted through the nightmare's fragments.
After a long pause, he spoke, his voice tentative but growing clearer. "They argued constantly, the two faces, but once I overheard something about a key. One face was furious, blaming the other for carelessness. He said they'd left something important in the third room, that the pathway behind the cupboard wasn't locked. They shouldn't have used the front door—going that way exposed them, let something follow." The words were vague, filtered through dream haze, but they struck Chen Ge like a mallet blow. The third room. His parents' note, tucked in the Haunted House, had pointed to the Third Sick Hall's third room. The young man's recollection aligned too perfectly to be coincidence. An unlocked pathway behind a cupboard—an escape route, a backdoor into the hospital's heart. Chen Ge's pulse quickened, the key's purpose crystallizing.
Chen Ge kept his expression neutral, masking the surge of excitement, though he couldn't tell if the young man was embellishing or misremembering. The information was gold: a Red Specter in the Third Sick Hall, a hidden path, a key that might open more than a door. He memorized every word, cross-referencing with the black phone's hints, then asked a few more questions—about the entity's habits, its arguments, any mention of the hospital. Satisfied there was nothing more to glean, he stood, pocketing the key. "That's all for now," he said, nodding to the young man and the wide-eyed neighbor from Room 301, whose jaw hung slack at the supernatural details. Chen Ge exited Room 302, the stench of death lingering in his nose, and returned to Room 304, the weight of the night's victories and mysteries settling over him like dust.
Inside 304, Doctor Gao sat by the bed, his face etched with exhaustion but alert. "How's Men Nan?" Chen Ge asked, glancing at the young man, pale and still on the sofa, his breathing shallow. "He's asleep but burning up with a fever," Doctor Gao replied, his voice heavy with concern. "I'll take him to the hospital tomorrow, try to contact his family. This room… it's not right. We need to get him out." The psychologist's eyes flicked to the shattered bathroom mirror's remnants, the air still carrying a faint chill. Chen Ge nodded, noting the bandages under the table and Xiaoxiao sprawled on the sofa, belly up, stuffed from devouring the shadow's fragment. "You rest," Doctor Gao said. "I'll watch him. Take care of your cuts." Chen Ge smiled faintly, appreciating the doctor's quiet care, and set a 7 a.m. alarm before collapsing with Xiaoxiao, sleep claiming him swiftly.
The night's rest was anything but peaceful. Chen Ge's dreams trapped him in a maze-like building, corridors twisting endlessly, the air thick with the coppery scent of blood. Something pursued him, its footsteps a wet slap behind, always just out of sight. In his hand, the rusted key gleamed, tried on every door—locked, jammed, wrong. Danger pressed closer, the walls pulsing, the key useless. He ran, heart pounding, until a voice shattered the dream. "Wake up." Chen Ge's eyes snapped open, Doctor Gao shaking him gently, Men Nan leaning heavily on his arm. The window glowed with dawn's first light, the clock reading just past 6 a.m. Men Nan's fever had worsened, his face flushed, eyes glassy. "We need to get him to a hospital now," Doctor Gao said, his own exhaustion evident in the shadows under his eyes. "This place feels wrong."
Chen Ge stuffed his gear into his bag, slinging it over his shoulder, and took Men Nan's other arm, supporting his sagging weight. "Be careful," he said, guiding them toward the door. As they stepped into the corridor, Men Nan's head lifted slightly, his voice soft but startlingly clear. "Thank you for your help last night," he said, turning to Chen Ge, then repeating, "Thank you." The words were reflexive to Chen Ge—"You're welcome"—but something in Men Nan's tone, a faint, almost feminine lilt, and the delicate tilt of his head, sent a chill through him. He glanced back, but Men Nan had lowered his gaze, his face obscured. The protective spirit—his mother—had spoken through him, a fleeting presence in the waking world, confirming her role in A Room of Three.
Chen Ge, Doctor Gao, and the feverish Men Nan reached the hospital just as the morning shift was changing. Nurses bustled past with clipboards; the antiseptic smell replaced Hai Ming's sour rot. After bloodwork, an IV drip, and a thorough examination, the attending physician assured them Men Nan's condition was stable—high fever from exhaustion and minor dehydration, nothing supernatural. Doctor Gao exhaled in visible relief, arranging for Men Nan to be admitted overnight. Chen Ge lingered only long enough to confirm the young man's eyes had returned to normal, then slipped away. In the taxi back to New Century Park, he finally pulled out the black phone. A new message glowed on the cracked screen, the familiar gothic font spelling victory.
"Player reached the mission venue on time, located the victim's cause of illness, and survived until sunrise. One-star Trial Mission 'A Room of Three' completed! New scenario unlocked: player may freely manipulate props within the set via the phone interface.
Completion rate >90 % — Hidden Item unlocked: Self-perceptive Key (13 Malice Points).
Mental patients often lack self-perception; they cannot gauge their own condition and refuse treatment. When similar symptoms manifest in you, this key will assist once."
Chen Ge turned the rusted key over in his palm, its cold bite now carrying an eerie sentience. The hidden item was the very key he'd pried from Wang Haiming's bloodied jacket. Similar symptoms in me? The phrasing prickled—half warning, half prophecy. Was the black phone implying he might one day lose grip on his own sanity? He slipped the key into the deepest pocket, next to Xiaoxiao, and stared out the window as Jiayang City's neon bled into dusk. One-star missions, it seemed, were growing gentler on his body; by 7 p.m. he stepped through New Century Park's gates with energy to spare.
The mannequin workshop was his next stop. The heads he'd sculpted under the Dollmaker's Talent should be cured and ready. He fired off a text to the boss; the reply pinged back almost instantly: Come now. No pleasantries, no emoji—just urgency. Chen Ge's stride quickened. He'd improvised without proper tools; maybe the filler had cracked, or the expressions had melted into grotesque smears. This was his first time wielding the talent outside the Haunted House; a flaw could mean hours of rework. He jogged the last block, the evening air cool against the lingering sweat of Hai Ming's nightmares.
The workshop's glass door reflected the orange streetlights when Chen Ge arrived. The boss stood outside, keys dangling from pudgy fingers, yet he hadn't crossed the threshold. His round face glistened with nervous sweat. "You're here," he muttered, as if Chen Ge were the owner and he the timid guest. Chen Ge raised a brow. "Then why aren't you inside?" The boss lifted a trembling finger toward the darkened interior. "Can I… cancel your order?" The question was absurd; Chen Ge had paid a fat deposit. He peered through the glass—and his breath snagged.
On the long counter where he'd left twenty-four half-finished heads, every single one now faced the entrance. Their molded eyes—uncannily human, pupils hand-painted with microscopic veins—locked onto the door in perfect unison. Cheeks lifted in faint smiles, brows arched in curiosity, lips parted as if mid-breath. The overhead fluorescents hadn't yet been switched on; in the dying daylight the heads glowed with an inner, waxy life. Chen Ge's hand twitched toward the mallet slung across his back, instinct screaming threat. The boss shrank further behind him. "Realistic, you said?" Chen Ge forced a laugh, clapping the man's meaty shoulder. "Open the door. Once the bodies are attached, I'm out of your hair."
The boss swallowed audibly. "Humble, my ass. Twenty-four heads, each with a different expression, all swiveled to stare at the door the second I walked in this morning—I nearly pissed myself." His jowls quivered. "I came early to check your filler, make sure no leaks, but…" He trailed off, keys rattling. "Every time I blink, I'll see those faces. I'll have to rent this place out just to sleep at night." Chen Ge's smile didn't waver, but inside the Dollmaker's Talent stirred, a quiet pride. The heads weren't defective—they were perfect, alive in a way silicone and paint had no right to be. He stepped forward, ready to claim his creations and vanish into the Haunted House before the boss's nerves snapped completely.