Lu Haidi and Ruan Yuan leaned in to take a look at Gu Jiu’s task note. After they read what was written, their gazes toward Wan Xingzhou grew more sympathetic.
Although “Madam Herlan’s Lover” was a pretty lousy role, it was still simple compared to “The Widow” or “Dancing with the Devil.”
In the game world, any entity referred to as a “demon” or an “evil god” typically possessed extraordinary power, sometimes rivaling the rules of the game itself.
Even the game’s bosses had to bow down to entities of such supernatural strength.
It was unclear what kind of luck Gu Jiu had to end up with such a terrifying task. Given a player’s abilities, there was virtually no way to escape from the clutches of a “demon.” Without using a substitute card, death was practically guaranteed.
Seeing Wan Xingzhou’s dumbfounded expression, Gu Jiu kindly took back the task note. She hadn’t really intended to switch tasks with him; she certainly wasn’t interested in being some woman’s lover. (TL: oooh? 👀)
After snapping out of it, Wan Xingzhou looked at her with a mixture of embarrassment and hesitation.
“It’s fine, I won’t trade with you.” Gu Jiu put away the note and turned to Lu Ji and the others. “What’s your task for tomorrow?”
Lu Ji replied, “My task tomorrow is to play a maid in the castle. At 13:00, I’ll be covering up Madam Herlan’s tryst with her lover, which might involve crossing paths with the castle’s master.”
Everyone felt a bit incredulous upon hearing this.
When they first entered the game world and heard that this was Herlan Castle, they assumed Madam Herlan was the owner, perhaps an unmarried woman, or if married, maybe a wealthy widow whose husband had long since passed away. Who would’ve thought that there was a “Master of Herlan Castle” lurking about? This castle’s setup was certainly… unconventional.
In fact, it seemed to be hiding information, leading players to fall into a fixed mindset.
Only now did they realize that Madam Herlan was secretly keeping a lover behind her husband’s back, meeting him boldly in the castle as if she were worried her husband might not find out.
“Who came up with such a weird script? I’d love to see their train of thought,” Wan Xingzhou muttered, his sense of propriety shaken for the first time by the game’s twisted web of relationships.
Compared to this, Lu Haidi and Ruan Yuan’s tasks seemed relatively normal.
Lu Haidi was the castle’s chef and would be providing a romantic candlelit dinner for Madam Herlan and her lover—although the candlelight dinner was scheduled for midday. Meanwhile, Ruan Yuan’s role was to be the maid who discovered the affair and reported it to the castle’s master.
After they all shared their task details, they suddenly looked at each other.
“Except for Miss Gu’s task, it seems like all of ours are connected, right?” Wan Xingzhou said, a bit flustered.
Lu Haidi had a bad feeling.
Ruan Yuan summed it up, “Wan Xingzhou is Madam Herlan’s lover, Lu Ji and I are the maids, with me helping the master by exposing the affair and Lu Ji assisting Madam Herlan and her lover in covering it up. Lu Haidi is the chef preparing a candlelit lunch for the two…”
Sitting on a round chair, Gu Jiu propped her chin with her hand and spoke slowly, “This is the first time player tasks have been interconnected. Does that mean that the content of these missions is starting to change?”
“Does this mean the tasks are becoming more dangerous?” Lu Haidi asked with a hint of worry.
“Dangerous, for sure, and it seems like the death traps here have shifted to target player factions,” Ruan Yuan analyzed. “Clearly, Lu Ji and I belong to opposing factions—she’s aligned with Madam Herlan, while I’m with the master of the castle…”
At the end, Ruan Yuan’s expression also grew uneasy.
She wasn’t sure who would prevail if it came down to her facing Lu Ji, especially since she no longer had a substitute card to escape from this task unharmed.
Wan Xingzhou looked crestfallen. “Does this mean… we’re all going to die tomorrow?”
He wanted to ask if anyone still had a substitute card but feared that asking might make them think he was coveting theirs as a way to collaborate.
Lu Haidi and Ruan Yuan also grew visibly less confident.
After hearing their speculation and seeing their disheartened faces, Gu Jiu spoke up, “Things haven’t reached that point yet.”
Everyone looked at her, waiting to hear her explanation.
“In fact, a bit of chaos in the plot is a good thing. It suggests there’s a way out.”
Everyone: “…”
Even Ruan Yuan, typically so sharp and quick-witted, was left staring at her, baffled, wanting to ask if she really meant that the added danger in their tasks was a “way out.”
“If the tasks were perfectly predictable, I’d have trouble finding a breakthrough. But now that things are shifting, I think there’s a way to crack it. Besides, haven’t you noticed that Madam Herlan, who’s been hidden all this time, has finally appeared?”
Three pairs of eyes suddenly lit up, watching her closely.
“Big Sister, are you saying that Madam Herlan is the key to this game’s mission?” Ruan Yuan asked excitedly.
Gu Jiu nodded slightly. “Though I haven’t met Madam Herlan myself, it’s evident from the castle’s setup that she holds considerable influence here, more so than the master of the castle. That said, we can’t disregard the master’s presence either. We need to understand their relationship first.”
“It’s definitely not good,” Lu Haidi asserted. “Look, Madam Herlan has taken a lover.”
He, Lu Ji, and Ruan Yuan simultaneously glanced at Wan Xingzhou and nodded understandingly. If the marriage were solid, why would she be involved in an affair? Meeting her lover openly in the castle was practically inviting the master to catch them in the act.
Wan Xingzhou looked at them blankly, tempted to ask what Madam Herlan’s lover had to do with him—he was only following the character setup of his task! He was a person with principles and would never willingly play the role of a third party.
Gu Jiu stifled a laugh and continued, “Which is why this is our best chance to find a way out.”
“What’s the plan to break through?” Ruan Yuan asked eagerly.
Gu Jiu shrugged, “I don’t know.”
The three of them: “…”
Are they just messing with us?
Just moments ago, they’d been caught up in the excitement of what seemed like a discovery, only to be doused with a bucket of ice water, snuffing out all their enthusiasm in an instant.
Lu Ji looked at the three of them and said, “Just follow Ah Jiu’s lead. But if you don’t want to, there’s no obligation.”
They were only temporary allies, not lifelong friends bound by life and death, and Gu Jiu didn’t owe it to anyone to bear responsibility for the lives of other players.
Lu Ji thought things through clearly and wasn’t pleased with the other players pinning all their hopes on Gu Jiu. While this might be fine in relatively harmless D-level arenas, games at C-level and above would become increasingly perilous, and he didn’t want Gu Jiu to bear too much burden.
After all, for Gu Jiu, most of this was merely a matter of lifting a finger.
The eldest young miss should be able to happily, even brazenly, rampage through the game world, taking down any NPCs that annoyed her.
The three hesitated, but finally said, “Miss Gu, if you have any plans, feel free to let us know.”
Gu Jiu replied, “Let’s wait until my task at midnight. You can come along to observe.” She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly in thought.
“I need to confirm a few things before taking the next step.”
The others looked puzzled, and Ruan Yuan asked, “What things?”
Gu Jiu didn’t respond; she seemed to be lost in thought.
Ruan Yuan, sensing something, wanted to press further, but Lu Haidi gently tugged her arm, pulling her back to reality. She quickly clamped her mouth shut, feeling a bit regretful. Maybe it was the task connections, the added danger, or Gu Jiu’s vague words, but she realized that her usual calm and keen judgment had slipped.
This wasn’t good.
Since she had chosen to collaborate with Gu Jiu, she owed her at least a basic level of trust. Of course, this trust would be based on her own judgment of Gu Jiu’s capabilities. Judging by the current situation, Gu Jiu rarely did anything without confidence. Unlike the other players who were fumbling in the dark, Gu Jiu had already returned safely from the fifth floor of the castle, uncovering the hidden secrets there.
For that alone, Gu Jiu was worth trusting.
After quickly mulling things over, Ruan Yuan said, “I’ll go with Brother Lu to find the other players, to see if we can confirm their tasks for tomorrow.”
Gu Jiu snapped out of her thoughts and smiled, “That would be ideal. I’d appreciate it.”
Ruan Yuan and Lu Haidi didn’t linger long; they left promptly to locate the remaining players.
Wan Xingzhou, still standing there a bit lost, meekly asked, “Um, what… what should I do?”
Gu Jiu looked him up and down. “First, clean off that blood, would you? Isn’t it uncomfortable?” She wrinkled her nose, clearly bothered by the iron scent clinging to him.
She’d wanted to tell him to clean up earlier, but seeing his pitiful appearance, she had kindly held back.
Wan Xingzhou flushed, muttered an “oh,” and hurried back to his room to shower.
Watching him retreat in a panic, Gu Jiu chuckled to herself, then noticed Lu Ji looking at her.
Those black eyes of Lu Ji’s were so dark, they seemed almost devoid of light. If seen unexpectedly, they might unsettle someone with their eerie stillness.
But Gu Jiu wasn’t easily spooked. Growing up, she’d watched plenty of horror stories and movies and was rarely scared by anything. She figured she simply didn’t have a “fear” nerve—at least, not when it came to things that most people would find terrifying.
So, looking at Lu Ji, Gu Jiu didn’t feel a shred of horror. On the contrary, she found the girl in front of her quite endearing.
“Ah Ju, is there something on your mind?” Gu Jiu asked, her soft, gentle voice giving the impression that she was treating Lu Ji with warmth and kindness.
This was a common illusion, one that had captivated many. Plenty of people had fallen for her, yet few dared to confess due to the formidable status of the Gu family’s eldest daughter.
Lu Ji felt as though he, too, was basking in Gu Jiu’s warmth.
His heart raced as he hesitantly asked, “Why were you smiling at Wan Xingzhou just now?”
“I thought he was rather amusing.”
“Amusing?”
Lu Ji mulled over this word, feeling a hint of gloom. How could someone so clueless and clumsy be considered amusing?
Gu Jiu continued, “Don’t you think he’s quite unlucky? He’s obviously unfortunate, yet he’s survived in the game world up until now. I can’t quite tell if he’s more unlucky or lucky. There aren’t many players with both traits—he’s one of them.”
From yesterday’s clown role to today’s bartender, Wan Xingzhou’s tasks were rather unlucky. Out of all the players, he was the only one who always ended up in such a mess, shedding blood two days in a row but somehow making it through.
Of course, there was a chance he had used a substitute card during today’s filming task.
If he didn’t have one left, his choice to cooperate with her was a smart move.
“The fact that he chose to work with me means he’s rather lucky, don’t you think?”
Lu Ji thought to himself that anyone fortunate enough to play in the same game as Gu Jiu—and wise enough to stick close to her—was indeed lucky.
Now that he was reassured that Gu Jiu’s smile had no romantic undertones regarding Wan Xingzhou, Lu Ji felt more at ease and no longer found him bothersome.
This feeling was unfamiliar to him, something he couldn’t quite label or explore. After all, no one had ever taught him about such things.
When Ruan Yuan and the others came back to find Gu Jiu, Lu Ji discreetly observed the couple once more.
The more he watched, the more puzzled he became. Human couples… seemed far more complicated than he’d expected.
Why did they keep sneaking glances at each other when they thought no one was looking, only to smile afterward for no apparent reason? Why would they insist on holding hands so tightly, fingers intertwined, even though it seemed inconvenient? They’d even lean in to whisper or, suddenly, steal a kiss when no one was watching—then chuckle about it afterward…