There's definitely something wrong with this murder mystery game
Chapter 943: 767: Those Who Were Not Chosen_2

Chapter 943: Chapter 767: Those Who Were Not Chosen_2

“That’s the Star… cough!”

Los cut himself off mid-sentence with a deliberate cough. He raised his head slightly, and his gaze through his glasses seemed to glance at the computer beside the desk.

But in reality, his attention was focused on Xu Shuo, who was seated nearby. It was only an unconscious movement before Los realized it and redirected his gaze.

The young man leaned on the desk with one hand, supporting his head, and was watching him with a faintly mocking smile.

Calmly, Los continued, “The Tower of Judgment is different from the Sixth Palace. The ‘Judgment’ within it is not actually a self-aware life form.

“The reason why you can communicate with Themis is because Themis’ identity as a Judge is rather unique.

“But in truth, the Tower of Judgment is nothing more than a device with fixed procedural settings, unlike the Sixth Palace, which we manage with a touch of humanity.

“So, technically, Themis does not have the authority to modify the Order of the Tower of Judgment. Even if they agreed to convey your intentions, the Tower would absolutely not agree to release the power of the ‘Barrier.’

“It’s like this computer,”

“One plus one equals two — that’s a preset program. You cannot make it calculate one plus one equals three just because you want it to.”

“The Tower of Judgment operates the same way; its program will never bend to accommodate exceptions in this world.”

As Los spoke, his fingers tapped a few keys on the desktop computer in front of him.

Seeing this, Xu Shuo leaned forward.

He moved his fingers over the computer.

And pressed a key.

The machine-like, monotonous voice of the computer echoed in the office:

“One, plus, one, equals, two, equals, three.”

After pressing the keys, Xu Shuo leaned back in his chair again.

Los: “…”

Los’ mouth twitched slightly.

Fine, this was the kind of person who, regardless of everything, was determined to make the computer calculate “one plus one equals three.”

Xu Shuo leaned back in his chair, gently rocking it, and said, “How much longer do you think this world can hold on? Do you truly believe it’s because of me that the Abyss has encroached this far?”

“I don’t know,” Los admitted, looking at him.

“It’s not like I desperately need the Tower of Judgment to agree to this anyway. After all, countless worlds have already been devoured by the Abyss. My world is probably nothing but a small speck among them — there’s really no reason for Judgment to make such an exception.”

“…”

“Then, do you know why I still agreed to Luo Kai’s request?”

“No idea.”

“Why do you think Luo Kai was so insistent on having me pass along the request, even after you explained that Judgment would never grant that kind of power to humans they don’t trust?”

“…”

“Because humans aren’t the kind of beings that give up hope so easily — even those who aren’t qualified for selection by Script Space.”

Xu Shuo’s expression was calm as he gazed at Los.

In the past, Xu Shuo had once asked Hong Rao a question.

How exactly did Script Space select its players?

At the time, Hong Rao’s answer had been — the players chosen by Script Space were always those with extremely strong willpower, individuals who would not easily be corrupted or consumed by the Abyss Darkness.

No matter what kind of people they were by nature.

Or whether they were exceptionally intelligent, visionary, or possessed extraordinary capabilities.

As long as they had the willpower to pursue hope.

They were deemed worthy of entering Script Space.

But…

Among the countless worlds and countless beings living in them, how could there only be that small subset of people with such willpower?

They simply hadn’t been chosen yet — that was all.

…

At that moment, a red dot appeared in the upper corner of Xu Shuo’s vision.

But as he raised his eyes to check.

Out of the corner of his eye, he suddenly noticed Los glancing in the same direction.

Xu Shuo raised an eyebrow.

The next moment, as if realizing something, Los quickly averted his gaze, lowering his head to look at the desk. In an awkward gesture, he adjusted his glasses, pretending as though he hadn’t done anything just now.

Xu Shuo opened the Player’s Handbook to check for messages.

It was a response from Themis.

Shi: [What’s the matter?]

Shi: [If it’s not urgent, I still have a few things left to handle on my end. I’ll come find you once I’m done.]

Shi: [Hmm… probably tomorrow?]

Xu Shuo: [No rush.]

After replying, Xu Shuo turned to look at Los, who was intently studying the surface of the desk, and smiled slightly.

“The bait has been taken.”

…

…

The next day.

The usual spot.

Themis hadn’t arrived yet.

But Luo Kai, having gotten the news, was already nervously waiting.

Incidentally…

He had shaved his stubble off again.

Transforming back from a weathered fifty-year-old into an energetic young man in his twenties.

Luo Kai sat in a booth, opened his backpack, and pulled out a gorgeously designed Starry Sky Watch.

“Something made by the Security Bureau Pollution Source Research Society. I’ve tested it, and its function is similar to the Compass at the Yuhua Institute’s lab, though it requires recharging.”

As he spoke, Luo Kai handed the watch over.

Xu Shuo curiously took the watch.

He paused the moment he held it.

It felt like it really did come from the Star Guild.

As Xu Shuo examined the watch, Luo Kai shifted uncomfortably, glancing around before quietly asking, “So, where’s that big shot from yesterday?”

“Writing code.”

“…”

Luo Kai was momentarily at a loss for words.

Once the initial shock and unease of meeting Los had worn off, Luo Kai recalled seeing information about him in some files related to Radiant Game Studio.

The files described him as a perfectly ordinary employee newly recruited by Xu Shuo’s studio.

Luo Kai: What a convincing description!

“This thing is quite practical. Who created it? Also someone from the Yuhua Institute?” Xu Shuo said, running his fingers over the watch.

“Kind of, since the person is reporting to the Yuhua Institute today,” Luo Kai griped.

“…”

Xu Shuo looked at him.

Luo Kai shrugged and explained, “It’s true. I just saw the person yesterday when I returned to the Yangcheng Security Bureau. Before that, they had absolutely no involvement with the Yuhua Institute — they recreated this entirely using research data.

“But before that, they had dealt with Abyss Substance and participated in the Abyss projects.

“That’s the person I mentioned last time, from Kyoto Institute Laboratory 101’s project — the sole survivor of that research.”

Hearing this, Xu Shuo recalled.

Luo Kai had indeed mentioned these projects before.

Humans, in defiance, had researched the Abyss.

And in doing so, carelessly lost research facilities and researchers, only to learn their lesson and cease such reckless ventures.

But for anyone to have survived Abyss contamination?

Xu Shuo’s expression shifted subtly.

Seeing this, Luo Kai continued, “I probed a bit. That person isn’t a Script Space player. When the accident happened, they were lucky enough to be outside the lab and promptly evacuated upon noticing the disturbance, avoiding direct exposure to the Abyss.”

“Outside? Doing what?” Xu Shuo asked reflexively.

“Getting takeout,” Luo Kai said with a shrug.

“…”

For once, Xu Shuo found himself at a slight loss for words.

Weighing the watch in his hand, he was about to put it away when Luo Kai suddenly pressed down on his wrist.

Xu Shuo paused and looked up.

The two men locked eyes.

Luo Kai smiled amicably before holding up his hand and seemingly signaling “five” with his fingers.

Xu Shuo raised a brow. “Interpretation…”

“Points.”

“Fifty…”

“Thousand.”

“You know, Themis seems really busy.”

“Hundred, hundred.”

“Let’s not trouble him, then.”

“Ten! Ten! Ten…”

Luo Kai forced an awkward yet polite smile.

Xu Shuo transferred fifty points to him.

He didn’t intend to take the item for free anyway since such “portable premonitory devices against the Abyss” were something he urgently needed at this stage.

For something so critical to his needs.

He didn’t see a reason to quibble over the details.

After all, he had already planned to use the Compass data from the Yuhua Institute to ask the Star Guild in Script Space to reproduce a similar device.

The cost for that would’ve likely exceeded what he’d just “snagged” from Luo Kai.

Since it was already available here…

He might as well take the shortcut!

…

However, Xu Shuo already wore a watch on his right wrist to check the time.

So, after some thought, he removed the black wristband on his left arm and replaced it with the premonitory watch instead.

“Next time, have that person add a feature to check real-time hours,” Xu Shuo commented as he secured the strap.

“You’re really quick to start being unreasonable, aren’t you…” Luo Kai sipped his soda while glancing at Xu Shuo. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a fleeting glimpse of a crimson rose hidden beneath the wide wristband Xu Shuo had just removed.

Luo Kai froze abruptly.

Why did that pattern seem so familiar?

…