Mystery

Four years ago, a young girl vanished under mysterious circumstances after school.

At the time, I had just lost my job and was running a snack stall outside the kindergarten gates. Word was that her parents had been waiting right outside the whole time, yet they never saw her come out.

In the aftermath, the family’s grief-stricken protests and a massive compensation settlement forced the kindergarten to shut down.

Four years later, I’ve changed careers and come across the case files from that day.

Certain things I experienced while running that stall have started to crystallize in my mind. And those details are enough to completely overturn the entire case.

The first time I went to a nightclub after starting university, I ran into the neighbor who had disappeared a year ago.

He had his arms around two scantily-clad beauties, looking like a total delinquent.

When he saw me, his gaze flickered across my chest before he let out a soft, dismissive “tsk.” Later, he pinned me against a corner. His finger pressed against my lips as he leaned down, demanding I call his name. It was only then that it dawned on me. He wasn’t my Zhou Yanzhi.

At three in the morning, the funeral home’s Morgue was only supposed to have five registered bodies, yet I found a sixth, unregistered, nameless female corpse in locker number six.

A slip of paper was pressed against her chest with nothing but my name written on it.

Even more terrifying was the moment my hand brushed her wrist; I saw the last seven seconds of her life and heard her raspy, blood-choked voice whisper: “Shen Nian, don’t trust your father.”

That was the night I realized that sometimes, the dead don’t come to say goodbye-they come to reopen a case.

My friend went on a trip to Tibet and unexpectedly vanished.

It wasn’t until much later that I discovered a tattoo on a drum that was identical to the one on her back.

I struck the human-skin drum. The sound was dull and heavy.

Suddenly, my friend burst in from outside. “Run!”

I had a dream while boating on the lake with my friends.

In the dream, a man told me he had taken a liking to me and demanded that I marry him.

I refused.

The next day, a female classmate on the boat vanished without a trace.

When I dreamt again that night, I agreed.

He laughed with joy, but unfortunately for him, he had no idea that I am the sole Earth Master successor.

When I was pulled into the Death Game, the System gave only one rule: No Romance. As luck would have it, the boy I was paired with for survival in the first Dungeon was gentle, brilliant, and always took the hits for me.

It wasn’t until the Life Gate opened that he admitted with a smile that he was an Administrator.

But what he didn’t know was that I was one, too.

I’m a delivery driver.

Just as I used my lightning-fast reflexes to snag a hundred-yuan errand order for a box of condoms, Before I could even gloat for two seconds, I realized with a shock that the delivery address was my boyfriend’s apartment.

I grabbed a meat cleaver and charged into the elevator.

There was another man in the elevator wearing a raincoat, clutching a large sledgehammer in his hand.

Just as I reached out to press the button for my floor, several lines of twisted text suddenly floated before my eyes.

[Is the Cannon Fodder Female Supporting Character coming online already? The male lead’s clingy ex-girlfriend.]

[Holy crap, that’s the Hidden Plot Killer next to her! Is the first act really this intense?]

[She’s about to become the first victim. Once the male lead finds her corpse, he’ll go berserk and take out the Killer to get his revenge.]

[But isn’t the male lead with the official female lead right now?]

[What do you know? A ‘White Moonlight’ only reaches her ultimate power once she’s dead~]

My finger froze in mid-air. The mirror-like surface of the elevator doors reflected the shadow behind me.

The Raincoat Man was silently raising his hammer, the shadow looming over the back of my head.

The very second the wind from the hammer’s swing pressed down on me, I spun around abruptly.

I didn’t swing my blade; instead, I slammed my hand heavily onto his shoulder. “Brother, let’s talk.”

He froze mid-motion. “Can you let me go slaughter that cheating couple first?”

I gripped the handle of my cleaver, gritting my teeth. “Then I’ll come back and let you hit me with that hammer.” “?”

I am the best cook in the capital. No one has ever said my food was bad.

That is, until my noble ex-fiancé-the one who broke off our engagement-ate a meal I prepared.

“This tastes awful. It’s a good thing I didn’t marry you.”

I calmly packed away the bowls and chopsticks. “It’s your Last Meal Before Execution. You’re still being picky?”

That’s right. I am a cook who specializes in delivering the Last Meal Before Execution to death row prisoners.

Before I became the bedchamber attendant of the Heir of Dingguo Duke Manor, I was once a “skinny horse” kept in the household of a Yangzhou salt merchant-a girl raised to be sold as a concubine.

To them, I was nothing more than a plaything passed between the powerful.

But they did not know that Qingliu, with her willow-slender waist, could also be a gentle, curved blade.

At a construction site, five coffins were dug up-four with something inside, one empty. Strange things kept happening at the site.

In less than three days, two workers had already been sent to the hospital.

Someone had asked me to go there and haul the coffins away.

But the expert the site had hired kept blocking me at every turn, refusing to let me move them.

With a dark, sinister look, he told me: “These five coffins can’t be moved by anyone within seven days. Whoever moves them will be the one buried inside.”