Doomsday Wonderland

Why point it out?

As soon as Dr. Chen finished speaking, someone abruptly dropped their pen, while another quickly withdrew their hands from the paper. However, once the initial shock subsided, the same expression of confusion appeared on everyone's face.

If the hotel was Dr. Chen's home territory, the paper and pens his media, and cooperation his message, Lin Sanjiu was certain that no fewer than four people would soon act as Dr. Chen's mouthpieces. In that case, he could secure victory in the game immediately.

Yet, he chose this exact moment—before anyone started writing, while the paper and pens were still on the table—to warn them to be cautious of the message.

"Why are you all looking at me like that?"

The middle-aged doctor, fair-skinned and mild-mannered, paused before realizing why. He sighed and said, "Ah, I get it now... Truly, there's no guarding against it. That hotel isn't my home territory. If it were, why wouldn't I have waited to say all this there? After all, in one's home territory, credibility is doubled. You all remember that, don't you?"

If he hadn't mentioned it, it seemed many people might have forgotten. After all, there were too many rules in the pocket dimension.

"If you're worried, feel free to find your own paper and pens to take notes, or hand them back to me after you're done. I'm merely reminding everyone to stay alert to hidden messages; that way, the record-keeping system will better ensure our safety," Dr. Chen said, tapping on the paper on the table.

The only items everyone had in common were paper, pens, and bottled water. Even food wasn't distributed uniformly among them. Lin Sanjiu took note; apart from these three items, there wasn't a single object that all four people had simultaneously picked up. Excluding water and food, which were unlikely to be media, the only remaining risks were the paper and pens.

Although Dr. Chen pointing it out suggested that the hotel likely wasn't his home territory, no one dared touch the paper or pens on the table out of caution.

After a brief silence, the man with vaguely rodent-like features, despite his otherwise decent appearance, was the first to raise his hands. "I'm not joining this record-keeping system. What if this really is your message and you're just pretending to warn us so I'll let down my guard—"

Jiang Tian, clearly intolerant of stupidity, rolled her eyes. "You don't have any media. What are you even afraid of?"

"Did I ask for your opinion?" The man, seemingly always ready for confrontation, turned to snap at her. "You think you're so clever? How do you know there's definitely no media in this bag of mine?"

Jiang Tian stared at him for a few seconds, her anger gradually softening into a smile. "You're right," she said almost gently, as if encouraging him. "In that case, why not toss everything out? And you'd better not join the record-keeping system either."

"But this—" Dr. Chen seemed a little flustered and had just started to speak when Jiang Tian cut him off.

"If some people choose not to participate, it's actually good for those of us who do," she said to the group, not sparing the rodent-faced man a glance. "That's all I have to say. Those who understand will understand."

Without giving anyone a chance to ask questions, she stood up from the table empty-handed, and, with a curt "I'm off to find paper and pens," headed toward the row of shops in the distance along the beach.

"Why would it be better for us if some people don't participate?" Hina asked, looking around the table. No one answered her.

The rodent-faced man appeared both puzzled and uncomfortable, his expression a mixture of worry and reluctance, but he still stubbornly refused to join the record-keeping system. Lin Sanjiu watched and almost sighed. ℝＡɴȱ₿ËṨ

Posthumans or regular people, every group had more mediocrity than brilliance. It wasn't just a matter of intelligence. Even if she patiently explained the risks to the rodent-faced man—"Those who don't join the record-keeping system will become hunting targets for others"—he still wouldn't overcome his doubt and fear. He might even suspect that her persuasion had ulterior motives.

In the end, out of twelve people, three refused to join the record-keeping system: the rodent-faced man, the frail and muddled woman named Guan Nan, and the man who resembled a caveman.

"I'm going to find paper and pens too," Rob said impassively as he pushed back his chair. "Until the record-keeping system is up and running, don't talk to me."

Other than the three who opted out, the remaining people also left the table, dispersing across the sunlit beach.

Lin Sanjiu walked along the long stretch of white sand, as if stepping into a distant summer vacation. Towels were spread across the beach, chilled drinks sat under umbrellas, bags and totes lay scattered in the sand alongside pairs of shoes. Farther ahead, rows of shops sold snacks, drinks, souvenirs, swimsuits, and goggles, while offering rental gear. There were also various restaurants and bars. The only thing missing from the scene was people.

As she crossed the beach toward the restaurants, a sea breeze carried faint voices from behind her.

"You're quick-witted. Tell me, what did Jiang Tian mean by that?" Hina's loud voice didn't need the sea breeze to carry it. Lin Sanjiu didn't turn around but perked up her ears and caught Ya Rong's voice amidst the wind.

"Those who join the record-keeping system... will definitely target those who didn't." Ya Rong's intermittent words didn't stop Lin Sanjiu from understanding her meaning.

"I don't get it," Hina said gruffly. "Isn't the record-keeping system supposed to make it obvious if someone is giving others a massage?"

"It's 'message'..." Ya Rong corrected, but Hina ignored her and continued.

"If three people don't participate, for example, and you want to find mouthpieces, you could tell the message to each of those three non-participants once, then tell it to one person in the record-keeping system. In the record-keeping system, your message would only appear once. It wouldn't be repeated, so how would we catch you? Doesn't that make it worse for those of us in the system?"

Ya Rong stayed silent for a moment. It was indeed an argument best left unsaid.

Dr. Chen's plan to maintain a stalemate with the pocket dimension had convinced many, but it was clear there were still people who intended to win the game and escape the pocket dimension.

As Hina had pointed out, with three people not participating in the record-keeping system, one of the participants would be exposed to risk. However, from another perspective, the chance of being targeted individually was only one in ten, and it opened up a path to winning the game and leaving the pocket dimension.

"If someone doesn't want to cooperate with the pocket dimension, they'll think they have a way out..." Ya Rong's voice carried a hint of unease. "That way, they won't sabotage the record-keeping system itself, which could put everyone at risk... It's like releasing some of the risk."

In other words, when unanimous cooperation couldn't be guaranteed, the current situation was essentially about sacrificing a few to ensure the safety of the majority.

As Lin Sanjiu approached the restaurant, she looked back to find that Ya Rong and Hina were nowhere in sight, having wandered off to who knows where.

She had assumed that everyone would immediately think of heading to the restaurant. After all, the restaurant staff used paper and pens for taking orders. But as it turned out, she was the only one standing at the entrances of the various restaurants.

It made sense. Ordinary people in the Twelve Worlds Centrum likely didn't have many chances to visit proper restaurants.

At the cashier's counter, she indeed found a ballpoint pen and a small pad of order sheets clipped to a board. Sitting alone in the empty restaurant, she mulled things over for a while.

She hadn't forgotten who had sent her into this factory. But the more she thought about it, the less she understood. What benefit did it bring to that old lady or the Shadow Hall to trap ordinary people in pocket dimensions one after another?

She glanced around the restaurant. Had the Shadow Hall gone through all this trouble, turning Chimeric City upside down, just for this?

Since being sent to the factory, she hadn't had a chance to contact Cyrus. Now, with no one else around, she patiently tried dozens of times until she managed to call out the communicator Cyrus had given her. Yet, as expected, the device was as silent as a stone within the pocket dimension.

Lin Sanjiu sighed and spent another few dozen attempts to put the communicator away. Before leaving the restaurant, she hesitated for a moment before laboriously summoning [The Power of Word Picture]. This time, she tried non-stop for three whole minutes.

Dr. Chen's plan suited her perfectly: when the mastermind behind the factory was forced out, it would also be her chance to take action against the factory using [Facial Hair]. This meant she needed to ensure the plan ran smoothly, even if Dr. Chen himself had hidden motives.

Though she hadn't yet figured out exactly how [The Power of Word Picture] would help her, holding the Special Item in her hand gave her a sense of reassurance.

When she returned to the beach, she found that most people had come back as well. Everyone held different kinds of paper and pens; some had found A4 sheets of white paper, while others had only managed to write on blank sections of jet ski rental forms. Some used ballpoint pens, while others had dug eyeliner pencils out of handbags.

Tenny Voltz wasn't even using paper and pen. He had found a recorder on the beach, recognized it, and brought it back to record his messages.

As the group finished recording their information, thirty minutes had just about passed.

"The owner of the beach scene hasn't done anything," Wen Ya, with his fine eyebrows and sharp eyes, said as he looked around at everyone. "It seems like the system is already working. The scene's owner can't make a move..."

At the start of her sentence, everyone was still standing on the beach. By the time she was nearing its end, the sunlight had completely vanished.

It wasn't just the sunlight that disappeared. All light, whether natural or artificial, had been erased from the pocket dimension. As the twelve people stood in pitch-black darkness, unable to see their hands in front of their faces, they finally, amidst mounting unease, confirmed the nature of the third scene: complete and utter darkness.

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