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墨書 Inktalez
The viewership of Scarlet surged like an out-of-control blood pressure monitor, with three million people flooding into the Live Stream, causing the server to emit a mournful cry on the brink of collapse.
I stared at the monitoring screen, where the Tip effects exploded in the bottom right corner. The animations of roses and swords reflected on the glass of the Gas Mask, casting eerie purplish-red spots of light.
"Your Honor!"
A comment suddenly popped up in the Danmu, flashing with golden edges,
"Don't you think this resembles the Campus Bullying Case from Twenty Years Ago?"
My knuckles tightened around the controller, turning white as cold sweat seeped through my damp leather gloves. Memories of old newspapers from Twenty Years Ago fluttered in my mind, the blurry victim's photo from a Tofu Block report overlapping with the man curled up in a cage at this moment.
The Live Stream abruptly plunged into darkness, and when it lit up again thirty seconds later, six Participants had electronic collars adorned with countdowns around their necks.
I intentionally made the Voice Changer emit a crackling noise: "How about we leave the multiple-choice question to the audience?"
The Danmu pool instantly boiled over; when the Tip amount surpassed seven digits, a pink smoke suddenly erupted from the collar of Participant No. 3—a hallucinogen that could trigger asthma attacks.
On the Zhihu Trending List, a lengthy analysis by a certain Psychology Professor under the topic Judgment Moral Dilemma shot to the top.
In his final paragraph, he wrote: "When violence dons the cloak of justice, we are left with only a nationwide carnival between us and evil."
When this comment was screenshot and shared in the Live Stream, I controlled a mechanical arm to project the professor's Weibo account onto the wall of the secret room, watching as the Participants erupted into hysterical laughter.
In the office of Criminal Investigation Team Two, the smell of leftover instant noodles lingered as Lin Nan pieced together twelve surveillance screens into a panoramic view.
"The IP has jumped through seven layers of meat chickens, finally pinpointing to High Seas Cruise."
He tapped on a red dot on the satellite map,
"But two hours ago, this area just passed through a Typhoon Zone."
Suddenly, Old Zhang pointed at one of the split screens and shouted, "Pause! Zoom in on that Ventilation Opening!"
At that moment, a power outage hit just right; I hid in the ventilation duct and heard sobbing below.
Lawyer No. 7 was prying open a hidden door's Hydraulic Device with a screwdriver he had taken from a cleaning cart.
When his pupils suddenly dilated in his Night Vision Goggles, I quickly pressed down on the Emergency Brake Button—the animal trap inside the hidden door came to a halt just three centimeters from his nose.
As the Gas Mask suddenly began to alarm, I ripped off the Filter Valve and slammed it onto the control panel.
When green toxic fog gushed from the ceiling, I heard a scream from the headset: "There’s an unidentified signal source attempting to backtrack!"
I pressed the Spare Mask against my face, only to find blood droplets pooling on the inner lens—blood seeping from the cut on my palm inflicted by a trap half an hour ago.
The female college student suddenly gestured in sign language towards the hidden camera, using a code adapted from Criminal Minds. I let out a cold laugh as I activated the sonic weapon, but hesitated for a moment when I saw her trembling fingertips.
It was that deadly 0.3 seconds that allowed Lawyer No. 7 to retreat with five others to the safe zone. They wrote an inverted SOS on the mirror with lipstick, perfectly outlining the shape of my mask.
When the first Molotov Cocktail struck the Control Console, I was pushing adrenaline into the syringe. Amidst the flickering flames, six figures encircled me from different directions, wielding disassembled trap parts as weapons.
I pressed the final Self-Destruct Sequence button and heard my voice mingling with the crackling electricity echoing in the chamber: "Congratulations on clearing the level, but the game has just begun..."
At the moment the Live Stream cut off, Eight Million Viewers were met with a black screen. Deep within the Dark Web, a folder marked with a Stained Glass Window watermark was automatically decrypting, while scanned documents from a Twenty-Year-Old Case File fluttered into the reporting inbox like snowflakes.
As the Alarm of the Criminal Investigation Team blared suddenly, I removed the cracked mask and retrieved a spare Police Badge from a hidden compartment in the chamber, pinning it back to my chest.
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