There are no ghosts in the world
The player, Memory Master, was awakened by the sound of a plastic cup falling to the ground.
In the dim room, the illusionist suddenly opened his eyes.
She lay on her back on the bed, staring expressionlessly at the pink and purple lace mosquito net in front of her. Through the mosquito net she could see the ceiling which was very close to her.
There was a poster on the ceiling. On the poster, an unknown male star was grinning, revealing eight neatly aligned teeth.
The illusionist stared at the unknown male star motionlessly, with no intention of getting up.
A question came to her mind: why did the plastic cup stop moving after it fell to the ground?
Before she figured out the problem, her instinct suddenly issued a red warning: danger was imminent.
The Memory Master closed his eyes reflexively.
Out of her sight, in the dim bedroom, a long-haired black figure slowly floated to the top bunk of the bunk bed. The figure lowered her head, and her long hair fell on the face of the illusionist: "Are you-are you-are you awake?"
The shadow's voice was electronic in tone, which was quite strange. There was a hiccup within the short six words, making it sound like an old-fashioned radio with poor signal reception.
The illusionist closed his eyes tightly and did not move, showing no signs of waking up.
The shadow seemed to have just noticed that its long hair had brushed against its roommate's face. It lifted her hair with its cold hands and whispered to itself, "That's great. Fortunately, I didn't wake her up."
The illusionist felt the soft long hair leaving her face, and after a while, she heard the sound of a door closing gently, and the voice was cautious.
She still didn't move.
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.
Very good, ten seconds have passed. That long-haired girl... no matter whether she is a human or a ghost, it will take her ten seconds to come back, and these ten seconds are enough to do one thing.
The illusionist stood up swiftly, without even looking at the ladder of the bunk bed. She held the bed rail with one hand, turned over and jumped out of the bed. As she let go, she bent her knees and squatted, landing lightly to avoid making too much noise and attracting the roommate back.
After landing silently, she stood up quickly, sprinted to the door, and locked it without hesitation.
The Memory Master turned around with satisfaction and began to observe the small dormitory.
This is a typical four-person dormitory with bunk beds on the right, a desk on the left, and a toilet inside.
She lived in the upper bunk near the toilet, and the roommate who was either a human or a ghost lived in the lower bunk near the door.
There was a stain on the blue and white striped quilt on the lower bunk. My roommate had just knocked over a plastic cup, and the contents of the cup spilled onto the quilt.
The illusionist bent down cautiously, moved closer to the quilt, and sniffed it carefully.
It's tea, or overnight tea. The quality of the tea is not very good, and it has a very unpleasant smell of leaves.
The illusionist was a little surprised. She had just prepared herself mentally and thought it was blood or some unknown liquid.
After all, her good roommate was standing in the air looking at her, and her voice didn't sound like a living person.
There was something else that concerned her even more.
This body is not hers.
The illusionist straightened her body and looked straight ahead, and she felt her field of vision become noticeably shorter. She herself was much taller than this body.
She lowered her head and saw the light pink almond nails with diamonds and sequins on her fingertips, the same style as the mosquito net.
There was a strange feeling of fullness in her fingertips, and she turned her hand over to examine it more closely.
The crevices between the pink almond-shaped nails were filled with dead red ants, and a few that were not completely dead were still kicking their legs or moving their antennae.
The illusionist immediately raised his hands in front of his eyes and studied the densely packed ants.
Sadly, this is just an ordinary little house ant, nothing special about it.
In the toilet, the illusionist found a used piece of dental floss and used the sharp end of the floss to carefully pick the ant out from between his fingers.
She threw the dental floss back into the trash can with satisfaction, raised her hand to smell it, and then licked it with her tongue.
Boring, ordinary sweet smell, seemed to be some kind of appetite inducer, or just syrup, she turned on the tap in disappointment.
The illusionist washed his hands while observing the girl in the mirror.
The girl is less than 20 years old, about 1.6 meters tall, with a well-proportioned figure, pretty and fashionable.
She had a tattoo of slightly upturned misty eyebrows and had her hair hidden in a dyed color. She lifted her shoulder-length hair, and behind her ears, you could see a bright blue and pink color hidden in her black hair, which was low-key and beautiful.
But rather than this beautiful face and fashionable hair color, the illusionist was more concerned with her ears.
The piercings on her ears were fresh, the edges of the wounds were flesh-pink, and she wore a pair of basic hypoallergenic gold studs.
Like a freshman, just arrived in college and finally had the freedom to pierce my ears.
Suddenly, a white shadow appeared in the lower left corner of the mirror. She turned around quickly, but there was nothing behind her.
"Click"
There was a slight cracking sound from the Memory Master's neck, and her body froze, unable to even turn her head back.
Since the mirror does not reflect reality, there is only one possibility left.
There really is a ghost here.
The illusionist kept looking back and suddenly realized something: even if the thing reflected in the mirror was really a ghost, he would not kill her immediately because the game had just begun.
She turned her head back silently and looked at the mirror.
A girl with white hair, golden eyes and a white dress stood in the mirror, holding an old piece of paper covered with red words in her hands, looking at her with a smile.
According to the personality of the illusionist, she would read and recite the text like a hungry tiger, but she could not take her eyes off the girl's face.
She didn’t see clearly in the small mirror last time, but this time she discovered that the girl was simply a projection of the word "beautiful".
She had a slender figure, glowing white skin, and soft white hair that floated around her body as if it had lost gravity.
Her irises and pupils were a pale gold, framed by white eyelashes, so pale that one could not help but think she couldn't see.
But what is even more shocking is this "beauty", an inhuman beauty that seems to directly instill the concept of "beauty" into people's minds, a beauty that makes their eyes hurt, and a beauty that even makes them feel tired if they look at it for a long time.
The illusionist forced herself to close her eyes. When she opened them again, all her attention was focused on the paper in the white-haired girl's hand. On that paper were written these words:
1. You are already dead and there are no ghosts in the world.
2. You must like your dormitory and your roommate. You have one and only one roommate, and your roommate has one and only one nose, one mouth and two eyes. Don't refuse your roommate's request.
3. It is forbidden to read the text content recorded in this game on any medium. If you must read it, please do not understand its meaning; if you have understood its meaning, please commit suicide immediately before spreading it to others.
4. You cannot die before reporting the cause of death to Professor Shen.
5. There are five rules in total. Please note that "successfully formulated and written rules are clear and concise" is a logical axiom. Because there are people with superpowers in the world, "dead people can kill people" is a non-logical axiom.
The moment he finished reading the last word, the illusionist's body felt lighter and his vision suddenly became higher.
The illusionist turned his view slightly to the left, and as expected, he saw his dead self in the barrel, or rather, the original owner of this body.
Girls of this age always pursue perfection to the point of clumsy refinement. She was wearing a gorgeous purple skirt and squatting quietly and softly in a large plastic bucket. The water in the bucket was dyed red by blood.
The blood-red color intertwined with the girl's dyed blue-pink hair and reflected in the illusionist's pupils, stinging her eyes and causing them to hurt.
The Memory Master finally remembered that she was a detective who came here as a player with the sole purpose of completing the ghost story game according to the rules.
The rules are weird and complicated, and the third rule prohibits reading, which is laughable. If the player does not read any text in the game, it is impossible to see this rule.
The Memory Master walked out of the bathroom and sat down at his own desk.
Half of the table is covered with nail polish and cosmetics, and the bottles and jars are neatly stacked in white transparent acrylic storage boxes.
Unable to find the body's original owner's phone and computer, the illusionist glanced at his own colorful desktop and only found one useful thing, a brown eyebrow pencil.
She picked up the eyebrow pencil and walked towards her roommate's desk.
Every time the illusionist picks up an object, he will mark it with an eyebrow pencil to ensure that the object can be put back to its original place.
She was doomed to be disappointed.
There is nothing special on my roommate's desk: a roll of almost empty duct tape, a pen holder with peeling paint, a dull wallpaper knife, a glasses case, an old selfie stick, and a tablet with a cracked screen. That's all there is on the desk.
These things were placed in a mess on the table. The illusionist took out a thick and soft tissue and separated the three layers of paper.
She turned on her roommate's tablet, wrapping her fingers with one of the thin layers of paper to prevent leaving fingerprints on the screen.
The time is displayed on the screen, January 1, 99 in the new calendar. After swiping away the screen saver page, you need to enter the password to unlock it.
The final exam was coming up soon, the illusionist judged. She quickly turned her eyes to the bookshelf, took out a book and flipped through it hastily.
After reading all the books, the Memory Master fell into deep thought. Why would anyone give second-hand books book covers?
This is really confusing. All of my roommate’s books are second-hand, obviously bought from seniors.
The two books, "Advanced Mathematics" and "University Physics", even look like third- or fourth-hand books, with three or four different handwritings in the books, and the covers have been worn off.
There are also several beautiful macaron-colored cover papers on the bookshelf, which seem to be prepared for the remaining books.
It is worth mentioning that the cover of old books without book covers all have the words "Wanting" written in beautiful small characters using a 0.25mm ultra-fine blue pen.
It looked like a name, but without a surname, and the words were written with considerable force, as if they were carved into the laminated hardcover.
Would a college student write his name on a book like a primary school student?
The only brand new book was "Malice" by Keigo Higashino. This book was not covered with a book cover, and its owner did not seem to have any intention of covering it. It lay neatly among a group of second-hand books covered with the same book covers, telling something silently.
The Memory Master stared at it for a while, feeling vaguely weird and uneasy. When she reached out to take the book, she heard the sound of the door handle being pulled outside the dormitory.
My roommate is back.
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