Chapter 118 Departure Journey 666

The day has come for you to leave.

For some reason, you felt a pang of reluctance.

Martha really loves you. She drove you all the way to the train station, held your hand, and just kept saying, "Study hard."

"The young people of Huaguo are very good, but they need to study harder while studying away from home so as not to disappoint their families."

With such sincerity and fervor, her eyes brimming with tears, you didn't know what to say, and could only nod emphatically in agreement.

Martha kept turning back to look at herself, still standing there, clutching the cross to her chest, muttering something under her breath.

Take a deep breath and walk into the waiting hall.

This e-ticket is a bit strange; it doesn't have any information on it.

Although the little green book says that's how tickets are in Los Angeles, and you just need to pay attention to the announcements and screens when the train is about to arrive at the station, it doesn't seem right that there aren't even seat numbers.

—Have you noticed that, even if there was no destination on the ticket when you left the instance before, it was still designed like a regular ticket for the corresponding mode of transportation?

In other words, for example, you can sit anywhere on a regular train in the Kingdom of De, and there is no seat number on the ticket. However, the bus ticket for leaving the Kingdom of Ying requires a seat number, and you cannot sit anywhere else.

Just to be on the safe side, you should go to the ticket window and drop your e-ticket in.

The staff behind the glass had ashen faces, looking like a piece of cured meat just pulled out of a water tank.

She took your phone, glanced at it briefly, made a few quick adjustments on the computer, and then said in a soft, whimpering voice, "Carriage 6, Seat 6A."

You pause for a moment, recalling the general rule: "Beware of the number 6."

So he went straight to the point and asked, "Excuse me, can I change my seat?"

The staff member didn't look up, but simply repeated, "Carriage 6, Seat 6A."

Since she could scan the ticket information... you thought for a moment and then asked, "Can I exchange this ticket for another one? The destination—same, and the train number—same. I'm willing to pay more."

You are implying that you can give her a small tip.

"You don't want this position?" The staff member turned his head, but his body remained still.

In those overly clear, pale blue-green eyes, the pupils were exceptionally wide, filling the entire iris.

You want to back away for a moment, but your body feels like it's being pulled by some unknown thread, and you can't move.

The glass of the ticket window gleamed coldly. You looked down and saw a pair of blurry eyes behind your reflection—indistinct, yet perfectly aligned with your own.

"No, I want it, I really want this position." Being pragmatic, you immediately changed your mind and thanked her for her service.

Your body loosened up! You turned and ran.

What happened?

This should indeed be a departure ticket.

The fingers gripping the backpack were clenched tightly, turning white as if they had lost blood for too long.

Should we get on this bus or not?

The announcement begins to broadcast your train.

It's 6 again.

On track 6, the train was delayed.

You stand in the crowd, expressionless, watching the clock on the platform tick six minutes past its appointed time. The wind blows along the tracks across the empty subway bridge, making the metal railings hum.

The announcement, delivered in a drawn-out female voice, repeatedly stated: "The train is about to arrive at the station. Please do not approach the edge of the platform."

One word was Rose's language, the other was Ying's language.

As the train pulls into the platform and slowly passes by the doors and windows, you watch your reflection disappear, reappear, and repeat in a loop. Until carriage number 6 comes to a steady, precise stop in front of you.

You've never seen such an old train.

The metal sheeting was stained orange, and the doors were covered in scratches, as if from some kind of rough impact. All the windows were sealed shut, and the interior walls were covered with a brownish-red blackout film, making it impossible to see inside the vehicle.

The many passengers waiting on the platform split into two groups, going forward or backward—you are the only one who needs to enter this carriage.

Biting your lip, you are filled with conflicting emotions.

The car door wasn't even open, and you didn't see an open button on it.

"Passengers in carriage number 6?"

A warm voice came from behind.

You suddenly turn around.

Behind him was an old man in an old military overcoat, his face like a wrinkled potato, but his eyes were surprisingly bright.

"Yes, that's me. How do I open this door?" you ask.

But after you finished speaking, he laughed, his nasolabial folds deeply etched on his face, outlining the contours of his cheekbones. He laughed heartily, then turned his back and slowly walked towards another carriage.

? ?

Just as you were wondering what to do, the door of carriage number 6 suddenly opened with a "click".

You went inside.

It's very cold inside.

The heating doesn't seem to be working.

There were only five passengers.

Everyone sat in a single seat by the window, their hair neat and their clothes impeccable, motionless like models.

As you walk from one end to the other, passing between them, not a single person looks up.

You sit in seat 6A.

Because of the screen protector, everything outside looks reddish and dark when viewed from inside the window.

You lower your head, trying to compose yourself.

The train gave a slight jolt and began to slide.

There was no starting sound, no announcement, just a quiet forward movement.

You close your eyes, hoping to drift off to sleep as usual and then enter the next instance.

This time, however, you only became more and more clear-headed, and the rule that Los Angeles people don't strike up conversations in public places kept replaying in your mind.

Since that old man wasn't a train crew member, his question to you was clearly a form of "flirting." And yet you responded to him.

You covered your face.

It's okay. The rules are vague about approaching people, so it should only have some negative impact on you, but not enough to completely ruin your chances.

So, is the current situation... a completely new scenario? If you can get through it, will you be able to proceed to the next instance?

Should we stay in this carriage? There are plenty of empty seats; perhaps we can find another place and wait.

You lower your head to think, but when you look up you see a pair of legs.

You were startled, but slowly raised your head.

Just as you were getting distracted and thinking, a man suddenly sat down opposite you.

He was wearing a dark military overcoat and a black and red checkered scarf around his neck. Even so, you could still see that he was extremely thin, like a skeleton.

He noticed immediately that you had spotted him.

He glared at you and said something in Rose language.

You lowered your head again.

He immediately repeated himself, his tone softer than before, almost a whisper: "Are you here to study or for tourism?"

Your heart skipped a beat.

Another one. Let's try ignoring it for now.

The snowy scenery rushed past, and the clanging of the train tracks could be faintly heard, but it could not mask the increasingly clear breathing of the stranger in front of him.

“‘Nihao!’” came out in a voice that sounded like he was pinching his nose, and he gestured excitedly, “I can speak the language of flowers, ‘Take a break,’ ‘You’re so beautiful.’ I really like the girls from the Flower Kingdom, you are all like angels.”

This is interesting.

You slowly raise your head and look at his thin face with overly lively eyes. He's sitting close to the front, his shoulders almost touching the edge of the table.

His eyes are so slick that you just want to punch him in the face.

However, his attitude sparked a new idea in you.

The rule's subject is "people," and the behavior is "approaching someone." Tamara's explanation also leans towards what a genuine anomaly would look like. However, it doesn't specify what this rule is actually targeting.

This rule might be better understood by placing it in a more realistic social context:

People don't strike up conversations easily, so those who randomly strike up conversations are either bad people or "normal people"; and the person being struck up with? They're definitely getting into trouble, because they don't know what kind of weirdo they're dealing with.

Some might just be teasing you like the old man just now, trying to scare you when you seem vulnerable. These people are just weird and annoying, and you won't really be hurt. Others, like the one in front of you, have a certain confidence burning inside their small bodies. If you soften your stance, they might go further to hurt you.

In that case...

You chuckled, glanced at him up and down several times, covered your nose with your hand, and frowned: "You stink. Don't you ever take a shower?"

The man was clearly stunned.

"And you're really ugly. Has no one ever told you that? Even if you were offered to a thirsty gay man, no one would want you."

He was stunned.

His brain seemed completely unable to process what you were saying; it had completely shut down.

You still have your hand in front of your nose, your brows furrowed as if you're disgusted by some stench of rotting flesh: "Oh my god, I feel like throwing up just looking at you. Could you please stay away from me?"

His face turned red.

"What did you say?" He subconsciously lowered his voice, trying hard to maintain a "civilized" demeanor.

But you showed him no mercy: "I told you to get out of here, you idiot."

His expression completely changed.

"You, you... are you sick in the head?!" he gritted his teeth. "Don't all the women in your Flower Country like the men from our Rose Country? You think the men from Rose Country are the most handsome in the world, and you come here just to find husbands so you can get more women's attention by posting on social media?"

You raised the corner of your mouth slightly: "Who told you that? The man behind you?"

He stood up abruptly and slammed his hands on the small table.

You really shattered his pride.

This is exactly the scene you were hoping for. The more things escalate, the better.

You immediately clutched your backpack tighter to your chest, like a little girl instinctively protecting her belongings out of fear, and stood up to ask those around you for help: "I don't know him... Is he prone to violence...?"

"I'm really scared."

You strike up conversations with everyone. After all, you have your reasons.

The few passengers who had been sitting indifferently around finally looked up. Although no one stood up, you know they "saw" it.

One minute later, the train attendant appeared at the carriage door.

She was a robust older woman, and her face was a little flushed, perhaps because she had drunk the "liquid bread".

As soon as she walked in, she asked, "What's wrong? There's a noise over here."

You rushed over, your lips trembling, "I...can I sit in another carriage? I'm afraid this person will come looking for me again..."

You deliberately glanced at the man who had approached you, your expression disdainful. You knew perfectly well that this cowardly bully wouldn't dare cause any more trouble in front of the person with the authority to deal with him.

His face turned deathly pale, and he stood there anxiously, shouting, "I didn't do anything! She was the one who brought it up—she was...she was flirting with me!"

The flight attendant glanced at him, then glanced at you.

Passengers around you stood up to testify on your behalf.

The flight attendant's gaze turned cold as she looked at him: "Sir, please calm down. Madam, come with me, I'll arrange for you to go somewhere else."

You nodded obediently and said gratefully, "Thank you."

You walked forward with the flight attendant in a lighthearted mood.

It's a win-win situation! Now you've also broken free from the curse of the number 6.

The train attendant opened the door to the next carriage and whispered something. Another young attendant nodded to you: "This way. There aren't many passengers right now. Hmm, let me see. You can sit here for now, it's safe."

You smiled and said, "Okay, thank you."

You walk in, and just as you're about to put your bag down, you spot the number above the chair back:

6A.

Your smile froze.

One second, two seconds, you look up and gaze at the entire train carriage.

Those sitting were all expressionless and silent passengers.

You slammed yourself back in your chair in frustration, bursting into a fit of impotent rage.

No wonder the ticket seller wouldn't give you a new ticket; it's no use exchanging it anyway!

How about we get off at the next stop and try?

With that in mind, you look at the station announcement at the front of the carriage.

…It's better not to watch it at all.

Because all the characters appear as a blur to your eyes.

You are really restless.

Perhaps you could just get up and wander around—nobody says passengers can't walk around the carriages! Maybe there are some hidden rooms or something…

Before you could even get up, the female flight attendant who had helped you change seats came back.

She smiled warmly, but held a silver lunchbox in her hand.

“Have something to eat,” she said in a soft voice. “We’re sorry about what happened earlier, but it’s all taken care of now.”

Look at that bento box.

The box was clean and well-insulated, and you could smell the aroma of hot rice, braised beef, and small potatoes. There was even a piece of cake.

It smells really good, and you suddenly feel your stomach rumble.

But the stronger your appetite, the more it reminds you of something.

The general rules clearly state: do not accept lunch boxes on trains.

But what about the lunch boxes from the flight attendants?

You stared intently at the lunchbox, your eyelids twitching, and you swallowed hard.

“It’s really okay,” she added, her tone gentle and steady. “It’s provided free of charge; after all, you need to rest during your journey.”

You tried hard to restrain yourself from reaching out.

You stare at her face, then at the faint muscle lines visible beneath her shirt.

He secretly calculated his chances of winning if he resorted to violence.

Then look at your own strong and powerful arms, which are now losing miserably—the answer is simple: if you don't cooperate, the flight attendant probably has the absolute power to make you cooperate.

The black hair stirred restlessly in your pocket, so you could only gently pat it to soothe it: it's not time to use your ultimate weapon yet, after all, you're not sure if the flight crew is friend or foe.

The flight attendant's smile remained unchanged; she stood there blocking your way, making it seem like there was no way to get around her and slip away.

It seems this is something I have to accept. Maybe you can…

You quickly pulled out your wallet, chuckled, and said, "Oh, I was just planning to order from the dining car anyway. Since you brought it, it's perfect. Thank you so much!"

Before she could react, you had already quickly stuffed several banknotes, their value unknown, into her pocket.

"Please accept this." You lowered your voice and emphasized, "Consider any extra as my way of thanking you."

She frowned.

"The rules and regulations are unacceptable..." she instinctively wanted to continue.

You immediately interrupted her: "Then go ahead and hand it in. Anyway, it was my own initiative to pay for it. I'm so grateful for your service. The flight crew from the Kingdom of Los really made my trip here safe and sound, which has greatly promoted the friendship between the Kingdom of Flower and the Kingdom of Los. This small token is my gratitude to the entire flight crew."

She took the lunchbox and smiled brightly, "Thank you!"

You said "thank you" in four or five different words in Rossi and even extended your hand for a very formal handshake with the flight attendant.

She opened her mouth as if sensing something change, but didn't say anything in protest.

"It's nothing, it's my duty..."

"Excuse me, could you move aside? I need to get to the dining car." You straightened up, interrupting her directly.

She didn't move.

A cold glint flashed in your eyes.

She eventually moved away.

You strode out of the seating area, as if you were wriggling out of some viscous liquid, and only truly breathed a sigh of relief when the door behind you clicked shut automatically.

The presence of this bento box reminds you that there is another absolutely neutral place on the train—the dining car.

There, you can go in and sit down anytime you order food.

As for this one in my hand...

You opened it and checked it. You saw that the stewed meat inside was not colored. The yellowish-white meat was submerged in the broth, and you couldn't help but wonder what kind of meat it was.

I closed the box, picked up the lunchbox, and found a corner on my way to the food truck to throw it away.

You couldn't possibly eat this, and you didn't want any of the crew to see that you hadn't eaten.

The fast food truck has arrived.

Great! The lights here are warm and yellow, the heating is great, and passengers are chatting happily in twos and threes.

The air was filled with the aroma of pepper and tea.

A real space where you can sit down, eat, and relax.

You found a seat by the window and ordered a cup of black tea and a small piece of honey cake.

When paying, you smile and ask the cashier, "Could I have a receipt?"

The cashier hesitated for a moment, but still printed out the receipt.

While waiting for your food, you kept studying the receipt.

After confirming all the numbers above, no matter what obscure mathematical method you use to find the pattern, it's impossible for the number to be "6". You finally feel relieved.

The honey cake was a ready-made product opened on the spot, and you had to brew your own black tea. The waiter had a very unpleasant expression.

The food was very ordinary, cloyingly sweet, and the black tea was a classic Lipton, yet it was priced three or four times higher—that's to be expected!

You ate with peace of mind.

Outside the car window, birch trees flashed by.

You bought a few more sugar cubes, hoping to have a sweet dream.

But…

You still can't fall asleep.

Only at this point do you reluctantly admit that something must have gone wrong with you.

This train must be the one you're supposed to take. Otherwise, there's no way to explain why you're still sitting here even though you've exceeded your allotted time in this instance, and even managed to avoid several crises that have already occurred.

What exactly did you do to become unable to leave this instance?

How much longer can you stay here? If this bus reaches its final stop and you're still on it, does that mean you're really going to die?

You begin to review the entire instance.

To be honest, apart from a few times when you accidentally fell asleep in a sloppy state wearing a hooded undershirt, you were like a perfect candidate the whole time.

Whether it was the deliberate attempt to sabotage you with your "fake personal shopper identity" and "the existence of your roommate," or the man-made disaster caused by Tamara, you skillfully evaded all the traps time and time again.

You really did a perfect job.

The sky outside the window had darkened, and the birch forest had become rows of gray shadows like pencil drawings. The lights inside the carriage had been switched to night mode at some point, dim and soft.

The funny thing is, the others (including the flight crew) were either dozing off or silently scrolling through their phones.

Everyone spontaneously entered a very pleasant "do not disturb" atmosphere.

But you just can't fall asleep.

Even if you open your eyes wide and write down everything that happened in detail for analysis, you still don't know what you did to cause this situation.

"It can't be that I'm too good and the dungeon won't let me leave, right?" After muttering this to yourself, you found it funny.

If you were targeted by the dungeon or even plagued by bad luck in this dungeon, do you think that being able to encounter a non-sick Tamara at the beginning and Grandma Martha in the last few days is not too unlucky?

Thinking of Grandma Martha, your heart softens again.

If it weren't for the instance, if she weren't a "local"—

Wait, did Martha tell you something before?

Study hard?

She said the same thing during the Chinese New Year. Just take it as her telling you to focus on your studies, and strange things won't happen.

That's certainly true.

Even when you were saying goodbye, she was still rambling on about these things, a veritable version of the Rose Kingdom's admonition to study. Just think of her as an old grandmother who worries about her child.

Upon closer reflection—you suddenly realize: you're still on this train—not because you failed to complete the challenge, but because you failed to fulfill your identity.

You are a student.

In the instance setting, you are someone who comes to "learn".

In reality, you did a lot of things, none of which are things a student should do.

Yes, you weren't always studying properly in the previous instances, but in the Deguo instance you blew up the lab so you didn't have class, in the Yingguo instance you were on vacation so you could reasonably travel around, and in the Neon instance you were indeed diligently attending language classes.

In this particular instance, you haven't attended any of the classes you were supposed to attend; you've just submitted a sloppy assignment to pass.

Even if a real prodigy can be a slacker, you're different!!

Moreover, it's currently a long holiday in Los Angeles, following the New Year and Christmas, but after the holiday, "you" will face a final exam.

You haven't learned anything yet.

hateful.

After thinking about it carefully, you actually laughed in anger.

I don't know who I'm upset about.

You lower your head and open your backpack.

Besides the clothes, electronics, and snacks that Masha had packed in your backpack, there was an extra book hidden in a compartment.

After translating, you discover that this is "your" textbook for your major.

Ha ha.

You read with the help of a translator. The carriage is quiet, with only the sound of you turning pages and the rhythmic clanging of the tracks in the distance.

You turn to the second page, then the third page.

There are too many new words, and you're reading too slowly. Just keep learning like this.

After flipping through a few pages, you've filled countless pages with notes—mostly records of new words.

A moment later, your pen tilted slightly, and your hand trembled.

You yawned.

And then another one.

You prop your head up and realize that the "drowsiness"—the uncontrollable exhaustion you've been longing for, the kind that truly belongs to the state of "about to break free"—is finally coming.

That's great, thank goodness.

Sure enough, even in a dungeon, studying is still the most hypnotic thing.

You smiled, rubbed your eyes, and didn't close your textbook.

Instead, you adopt a posture of fighting off sleepiness to the end, try to open your eyes, and study diligently in a serious manner.

The next second, your consciousness will be cut off.

You slept more soundly than ever before.

So you must study hard!

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Author's Note: Guess where the next dungeon will be? (Hint: Popular countries, off-the-beaten-path locations) ^^ Love it!!

This chapter mentions "approaching someone," borrowing the amusing social phenomenon of strangers in Los Angeles giving each other the cold shoulder and refusing to speak, but the scenario itself is quite common in Western countries. Here, I, Tiger, earnestly warn all those already abroad or planning to go abroad: be extremely wary of any strangers who approach you, especially strangers, particularly older ones. Many Asian women are too kind and soft-hearted, to the point that many girls mistake some offense for a cultural difference, unaware or completely oblivious to the need to refuse.

Many men with a stereotypical view of Asian girls as "docile and easily controlled" will persistently target them, offering various reasons that sound like a kind and gentle old man wanting to show them around. They might even use this opportunity to hold their hand, kiss their cheek, and eventually exchange contact information. Girls might mistake these men for kind, lonely, and loveless elderly people, interpreting their behavior as a foreign-style expression of affection from an elder to a younger person. They might foolishly follow them, even happily accepting what is actually sexual harassment. While they generally won't physically harm you (because you could easily kill them), once you accept some of their actions, they may escalate their harassment. If you add them on social media, you might continue to receive harassing text messages.

If it's a middle-aged man, I personally think he's the most disgusting type. Compared to younger men, they lack the appeal to some girls, and compared to older men, they lack the self-awareness of knowing they're old and nearing death and therefore hesitant to actually do anything. They might slickly present themselves as a reliable and enthusiastic local uncle, taking you for a stroll, even offering snacks. He'll likely assume he's already won over a cute Asian girl and then proceed to forcibly kiss or grope you. Call the police? Unfortunately, even in Europe and America, obtaining evidence in this situation is very difficult, especially if you're a tourist. You won't have time to wait for a satisfactory outcome (of course, I'm referring to the impact on the girl herself; for the man, as long as you bravely call the police, he will be recorded).

These are all real experiences from people Tiger knows. Too many girls really do become stupid when they change environments. Self-protection is simple: when they approach you and try to chat you up, just give them the cold shoulder and walk away. Remember: you have no obligation to give anyone a friendly face! If they have problems, the police are everywhere; they don't need a foreign girl to solve them. Don't be afraid of being bullied or retaliated against because you're in an unfamiliar place. These people are very bullying and cowardly; if you just tell them "fuck off," they won't dare say anything. Take Tiger's two experiences as examples: The first time, I encountered someone who looked like they belonged to some unspeakable sect. They circled around me for several minutes, so I turned around and said, "Please stay away from me" (actually, I was a little scared, mainly because I was afraid they had a knife), but they just scurried away. The second time was at night. A guy named Tian Li even followed me and my friend into a restaurant and sat next to me for a long time, saying he didn't have many friends but thought I looked kind and wanted to be friends with me. Then I said, "I don't want to be friends with you either; you look ugly." He turned green, picked up his bag, and left.

In short, when traveling abroad (and even within the country), don't always assume strangers are kind and friendly. Don't let yourself be taken advantage of without realizing it, only to suffer secondary harm later. And don't be afraid of them! May every cat be happy and joyful every day, and may bad guys stay away!! ^ ^