Another Tragedy

Ye Shengge took a moment to realize what the system meant.

The thought that, not long ago, he had tried to coax the dungeon boss as if he were a fool made Ye Shengge’s vision darken with a mix of embarrassment and shame.

But he forced himself to stay positive, offering a bit of self-consolation: “At least it wasn’t a total loss. We know now that the dungeon boss isn’t that terrifying, and he has a physical body made of flesh and blood.”

After saying that, he began to mutter to himself in confusion: “But if that’s the case, how do I explain the marks on my body when I wake up…”

The system didn’t know how to respond to the claim that the boss “wasn’t that terrifying,” nor did it know how to answer his later question without violating its principles. Ultimately, it chose to change the subject: [Forget it. Go back to the dormitory and rest first. You can think about everything else tomorrow.]

Perhaps after a night’s sleep, his head would be clearer, and he could connect all the dots.

“Okay.” Ye Shengge nodded obediently. Following the system’s instructions, he closed his eyes and quickly ran out of the little woods, then tiptoed back into the dormitory.

Before entering, Ye Shengge took an extra look around the room. He found Mu Jinran and Jiang Yan lying on their beds, sleeping soundly, completely unaware that he had snuck out in the middle of the night.

His heart, which had been racing with tension, finally settled back into place.

Ye Shengge let out a sigh of relief, quietly closed the door, and climbed back into his upper bunk to huddle under the covers, closing his eyes to try and find sleep.

But he had slept for too long during the day; he wasn’t tired at all now.

When people can’t sleep at night, it’s easy for their minds to wander.

Ye Shengge was no exception.

As he thought, his mind drifted toward the dungeon boss.

He wondered if the audience in the chat and the system had been exaggerating. The boss he met was entirely different from the rumors. Not only did he not seem cruel or terrifying, but he actually seemed a bit silly and especially clingy.

Why would someone like that start a death game in the class group?

Ye Shengge couldn’t figure it out.

What confused him even more was the strange reaction the Luck King had before he died.

The instruction was to kneel and repent for past wrongdoings.

Could it be that the Luck King really had done something wrong, and that was why the anonymous person punished him?

That didn’t quite make sense either.

Many other students were involved in this game. It was impossible that they were all heinous villains.

One mystery after another felt like a tangled ball of yarn—impossible to cut and too messy to straighten.

[Don’t overthink it. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.]

Ye Shengge startled.

It was the system’s voice.

Sensing Ye Shengge’s thoughts, the system hesitated for a few seconds before offering comfort: [At least the dungeon boss is willing to see you. That means we still have a chance. Worst case, we can try to extract information again next time we meet.]

At the system’s suggestion, Ye Shengge couldn’t help but recall the events in the woods tonight.

Being soft-natured, he didn’t have the heart to blame the system for not telling him sooner. He took all the blame himself, feeling mortally embarrassed. He murmured: [Can we really meet again?]

[Definitely.]

Thinking about how the boss seemed to want to stay glued to Ye Shengge for a lifetime, the system spoke with absolute certainty.

If it were any other player, it might not be so sure. But if it was Ye Shengge, it was one hundred percent certain.

The dungeon boss would definitely be unable to resist appearing again.

After all, when other players performed tasks in this dungeon, they couldn’t even catch a glimpse of the boss. They were either driven to the brink by high-difficulty instructions or targeted by NPC classmates. Survival was difficult enough, let alone identifying the anonymous sender.

Once the seven-day limit was up, those who died aside, even those who managed to survive using items usually just made a wild guess and ended up failing the mission, their souls dissipating.

Only Ye Shengge was different. His luck was incredibly good. Not only was he doing well in the dungeon, but he even had people meticulously taking care of his food and lodging.

Not to mention the dungeon boss, who hid deeper than anyone, had taken the initiative to invite him out.

Comparing the scenarios, the system had a strong intuition: if anyone could clear this dungeon, it would be Ye Shengge.

Ye Shengge pulled a serious face and sighed like an old man: [I hope so.]

Though it felt a bit spineless to admit, after learning what the boss’s intentions toward him actually were, it was hard to feel terror or fear anymore. At most, he was curious about what exactly the boss saw in him.

The system said nothing more.

Ye Shengge didn’t expect an answer either, curling up in his blanket in a daze.

The dormitory was very quiet, and the air conditioning was at a comfortable temperature.

Before he knew it, Ye Shengge slowly drifted off.

Having shed the negative emotions of fear, this sleep was unexpectedly good.

The next morning, Ye Shengge woke up feeling refreshed. He greeted Mu Jinran, who was up early reading, with a bright smile.

Mu Jinran nodded and gave a faint “Morning” in return.

Ye Shengge keenly sensed that he wasn’t in a very good mood, so he didn’t say much more. He turned to greet Jiang Yan: “Good morning.”

“Hmph!”

He didn’t know what kind of mood Jiang Yan had woken up in. Hearing the greeting, not only did he not respond, but his face darkened as he let out a heavy, cold snort.

He had never lost his temper with Ye Shengge before; this was a first.

However, because he subconsciously didn’t want to scare the youth, even his anger felt like a pouting, tsundere tantrum—it had zero intimidation factor.

This look was quite rare.

Ye Shengge looked at the moody Mu Jinran, then at the visibly angry Jiang Yan, and asked in a low voice: “Are you two having a little falling out?”

Hearing this, Jiang Yan looked as disgusted as if he had swallowed a fly. He glanced at Mu Jinran with immense disdain: “What kind of falling out could I have with him? Don’t talk nonsense.” He had nothing to do with a coward who only knew how to put on an act.

Jiang Yan’s reaction was a bit intense. Ye Shengge felt even more certain they were arguing and immediately turned to Mu Jinran.

“We aren’t arguing,” Mu Jinran said, his gaze meeting Ye Shengge’s indifferently.

His tone was calm; he truly didn’t sound like he was in a spat.

But if they weren’t arguing, Jiang Yan’s reaction made no sense.

Ye Shengge was still pondering when Mu Jinran’s quiet inquiry interrupted his thoughts: “Are you hungry? Let’s go to the cafeteria for breakfast together.”

Ye Shengge subconsciously touched his rumbling stomach.

Yesterday morning he had witnessed the Luck King’s death, so his appetite hadn’t been great. He hadn’t eaten a bite at lunch and only had a snack for dinner. It was a miracle he had made it this long; he was indeed very hungry.

“Let’s go.” He nodded to Mu Jinran, then asked Jiang Yan: “Do you want to come to the cafeteria for breakfast too?”

“Yes!” Jiang Yan answered without hesitation, showing no sign of his previous anger.

And so, the three of them went to the school cafeteria together.

On the way, Ye Shengge noticed that both Mu Jinran and Jiang Yan were incredibly silent, and the atmosphere was very heavy.

He pursed his lips, racking his brain for topics to liven things up, but nothing worked. Finally, he couldn’t help but ask the system: [System, why are they both so unhappy?]

The system couldn’t tell the truth, but it couldn’t bear to leave Ye Shengge hanging. Since it found both Jiang Yan and Mu Jinran annoying, it answered coldly: [Don’t worry about it. It might just be their ‘time of the month.’]

This was a phrase it had learned from the chat, and it fit Mu Jinran and Jiang Yan perfectly.

[Pfft, you’ve learned how to tell jokes.] Hearing this dry joke, Ye Shengge’s mood suddenly improved, and even breakfast seemed to taste better.

The system didn’t know how to respond and simply went quiet to play dead.

Ye Shengge didn’t push it, continuing his breakfast while occasionally glancing at the other two.

Seeing Jiang Yan looking so restless, he looked like he was about to burst if he didn’t say something soon.

Just as Ye Shengge was wondering when Jiang Yan would speak, a sudden, loud wave of discussion erupted in the hall. Many people didn’t even finish their food, grabbing their phones and running outside in excitement.

Mu Jinran looked at his phone, his tone becoming grave: “Something has happened.”

Ye Shengge was a bit surprised; he hadn’t expected Mu Jinran to be the one to break the silence.

“No sh*t, anyone can see that something happened,” Jiang Yan retorted, refusing to be outdone.

Because of this small disturbance, the frozen atmosphere returned to normal.

But Mu Jinran didn’t seem interested in bickering with Jiang Yan. His tone became even more somber: “Message in the class group. Zhang Ming jumped from the building and died.”

The relaxed expression on Ye Shengge’s face froze instantly.

Zhang Ming. Jumped. Dead.

These words echoed in his ears like a curse.