MMPS Ch. 22

Chapter 22: Remarkable Enough

The earring was only a pretext. Yu An’s true motive lay in piercing through him. That silken, unblemished face and body—it unnerved Yu An in ways he couldn’t fully explain. Perfect things were most alluring not when they stood untouched but in their ruin. The moment they shattered, they unveiled a violent beauty never seen before.

Yu An intentionally brushed against Zhao Ran’s injured earlobe, ensuring it wouldn’t heal too quickly. With deliberate ease, he smeared the blood onto Zhao Ran’s pale face, his thumb grazing over Zhao Ran’s lips until they parted slightly. Pressing the pad of his finger against Zhao Ran’s teeth, he explored the sharp edges, testing their bite.

Then he picked up his phone. Angling it down, he captured a photo of Zhao Ran’s face. The faint red of Zhao Ran’s cheeks, marked by smudged fingerprints, stood out starkly against his fair skin.

Yu An’s wish—a fleeting desire he had barely entertained for a day—was fulfilled so quickly. Zhao Ran was so pale that even the smallest stain screamed for attention.

“Interviewer,” Yu An said, his voice casual but sharp as his gaze locked onto Zhao Ran’s. “You have a remarkably good temper.”

Zhao Ran leaned back in his chair, his head slightly tilted. His heart pounded wildly, clouding his mind and locking his body into a strange tension. The sharp sting of his earlobe barely registered compared to the ache deep within, the relentless pain of denying his own desires.

He understood Yu An’s nature, dark and unruly, barely restrained by years of meticulous discipline. At least now, those deeply violent thoughts appeared less frequently in that mischievous head of his.

Not that training him was difficult. The brat was fragile—unable to endure much. A single night of intense discipline would reduce him to tears, begging, and swearing never to misbehave again.

“Well,” Zhao Ran said softly, his voice steady, “I’ve only heard that kind of compliment from you.” He shifted slightly in his chair, causing Yu An, who had been pressing a knee into the seat for balance, to stumble. In an instant, Zhao Ran spread Yu An’s legs and lifted him, his back dangling precariously in midair. Just one wrong move, and Yu An’s head would hit the floor.

It was strange. Yu An avoided games that required trust, like falling backwards into someone else’s arms. Yet whenever accidents threatened Zhao Ran, Yu An didn’t even flinch. His instincts to protect himself seemed to vanish entirely in Zhao Ran’s presence.

But Zhao Ran did nothing more than hold him in place, his hands steady at Yu An’s waist. He gazed at him calmly, as though catching Yu An was no more significant than rescuing a kitten tumbling from a high shelf on a quiet afternoon.

The position was one of complete control, leaving Yu An at a clear disadvantage. Yet he was fearless, staring unabashedly at Zhao Ran’s slightly parted lips and the glint of his sharp teeth: “Are you this tolerant with all your interns?”

“I’ve only ever mentored one intern since joining,” Zhao Ran replied, his voice unruffled. “And no other intern would be capable of causing as much trouble as you.”

“Isn’t there some rule in the Underground Metro,” Yu An pressed, “that an interviewer can only mentor one intern at a time?”

“Not that I know of.”

“So,” Yu An continued, his tone sharpening, “after I pass probation, you’ll take on another intern?”

“Hmm… Hard to say.” Zhao Ran’s lips curved into a faint smile, his eyes narrowing just slightly.

Yu An fell silent. Perched on Zhao Ran’s lap, he began absentmindedly tracing the strokes of his surname on Zhao Ran’s neck with his fingertip, pressing hard enough to leave red marks on the pale skin.

His gaze, dark with contemplation, betrayed the murderous ideas brewing in his mind.

Before long, Yu An leapt off Zhao Ran’s lap and stalked toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Zhao Ran asked.

“Bored. I’m taking a shower.” Yu An had already reached the doorway, but he turned to extend a single arm back through the frame, flipping Zhao Ran off without hesitation. “I’ll be back to finish the lesson.”

The intricately carved door shut with a slow finality.

Alone in the room, Zhao Ran rose to his feet and stood motionless for what felt like an eternity. He fumbled in his pocket for a cigarette, but after several attempts, he couldn’t light it. Slowly, he crouched down, resting his elbows on his knees, his face buried in the crook of his arm. His ears and the hollow of his throat burned an intense pink, the same shade as the blood dripping from his wounded earlobe.

His gloved fingertips grew damp, the moisture seeping through the leather. Sticky droplets clung to the edges of his fingers.

“He… He must’ve been acting spoiled,” Zhao Ran muttered, his voice muffled by his arm. “How did I handle that just now?”

A faint scratching noise came from the carpet nearby. In the shadowy corner of the room, small, unseen hands that had been eagerly watching retreated, their excitement dimmed. Before slipping away, they scrawled their verdicts into the fibers of the rug:

“Pathetic.”

“I could’ve done better.”

“No worries. Hugging him for even a minute was impressive.”

…

When Yu An returned, toweling his damp hair, he found Zhao Ran seated at the desk. The computer screen glowed softly, displaying a completed download. The new software was already installing.

“No more lessons?” Yu An asked, approaching the desk while still rubbing his hair dry. He eyed the sleek computer curiously. “Nice setup.”

“I don’t know much about hardware. A kid from the office built it for me.” Zhao Ran clicked on a tiny house icon that had appeared on the desktop. The screen went black for a moment before springing back to life, displaying a rotating 3D model of a toy house. Cheerful, childish music played in the background.

Each side of the house featured a different artistic style. It spun endlessly, never repeating the same design.

“You play games?” Yu An asked, dragging a chair over and settling in beside Zhao Ran. “I thought we were studying.”

“Work-life balance,” Zhao Ran replied casually. “It’s a new game from Grey Crow Games called Toy House. Thought I’d give it a shot.”

“Grey Crow Games?” Yu An leaned his chin on the table. “Oh, they made Haunted Manor! I’ve played that one.”

Zhao Ran raised an eyebrow, intrigued: “What did you think?”

“My roommate streamed it, and I had to help when he got stuck. Honestly, it was all fluff. Marketed as psychological horror, but all it had were random jump scares. Then they added some slapdash gun mechanics. Shooting felt like using a water pistol. Waste of great visuals and storytelling.”

Yu An’s lips curled into a faint sneer: “What trash have they made this time?”

“They hired me to investigate something,” Zhao Ran explained, “and gave me a copy of a demo they pulled from shelves. Want to try it?”

Zhao Ran moved aside, letting Yu An take the seat. He rested his chin in his hand, watching as Yu An launched the game. Whatever strange surprises might lie within, it was safer for the brat to play with some supervision.

The game loaded, offering a single-player mode. A message appeared: Randomizing your scene…

The toy house began spinning rapidly like a die. As it slowed, the chosen side was revealed—a face painted in deep purples and blacks. Tiny windows were overgrown with dark vines, and jack-o’-lanterns were stacked haphazardly near a cauldron in the corner. Bats flitted against a moonlit sky, where a pale, sinister orb loomed high.

“Great artwork,” Yu An remarked, clicking into the scene. “Looks like a Central European wizardry theme.”

Three character options appeared:

• Pumpkin-Headed Warrior: A mysterious youth with a jack-o’-lantern helmet.
• Fierce Witch: A long-haired beauty with a jewel-tipped staff.
• Potion Master: A red-haired male sorcerer.

“Why are there no character profiles or skill descriptions? Are they still locked?” Yu An hovered indecisively among the three available characters. “The Potion Master sounds like a healer mixing potions—boring. Let’s skip that. The Witch has a staff, so she’s probably a spellcaster, but she seems weak. That leaves the Pumpkin-Headed Warrior. He should have a weapon, right?”

[Confirm Selection: Pumpkin-Headed Warrior]

From the sky, an unkempt, ordinary-looking teenager plummeted into the playable area, landing on his backside with an audible thud. Wincing, he rubbed his lower back as he clumsily stood up.

“That’s hilarious,” Zhao Ran said, propping his chin in his hand as he chuckled.

“Where’s the start button…?” Yu An muttered, guiding the character around the starting interface, aimlessly clicking. His random attempts triggered an interaction with a magic cauldron in the background, and a brief animation played.

The boy broke free from the player’s control, wandering on his own. Suddenly, he stepped on a pumpkin rind, slipped, and tumbled into a pile of jack-o’-lanterns. Dazed, he staggered upright, a pumpkin awkwardly stuck on his head. Stumbling again, he toppled headfirst into a towering cauldron filled with swirling, iridescent potions.

[Game Start]

The loading animation was unexpectedly vivid: the Pumpkin-Headed Boy flailed helplessly in the bubbling liquid before sinking into its depths.

“…Not bad. Pretty detailed,” Yu An remarked, waiting as the game loaded. After a few seconds, the scene emerged—a desolate village under a cold, luminous moon. A flock of bats flitted across the night sky.

A soft, haunting melody began to play, its eerie notes spreading through the room. Yu An turned up the volume, intrigued.

[Hint: Use AWSD keys to move, Spacebar to jump.]

He moved the Pumpkin-Headed Boy a few steps, exploring the empty streets. The village was eerily silent, with every door and window tightly shut, as though the residents were hiding from something unspeakable that prowled the night.

“There’s no mention of a goal. Guess I’ll just look around.” Yu An murmured. The boy stepped over cobblestones, brushed aside overgrown bushes, and wandered into a barren field. In the distance, a faint light glowed from the doorway of an isolated cottage.

The ground underfoot was scattered with spiky, burr-like weeds. Without hesitation, Yu An directed the boy over them.

Suddenly, the Pumpkin-Headed Boy began to hop wildly—once to the left, then to the right. His bizarre movements caught Yu An off guard. For a moment, he assumed it was part of a cutscene. But then…

“Wait, I’m losing health!” Yu An realized, quickly steering the boy away. “The ground hurts? Is it… sharp?”

[Hint: Press F to pick up items.]

“Oh, I can pick these up.” Yu An had the boy grab one of the burr-like weeds, which looked unsettlingly like a hedgehog. Instantly, the boy began tossing it between his hands in frantic panic, his face twisted in pain.

“I’m still losing health—it’s sharp to hold!” Yu An hurriedly made a beeline for the distant cottage. “There’s no health bar, but if I don’t hurry, he’s going to die.”

Reaching the cottage, Yu An had the boy drop the weed on the ground. As expected, the damage stopped.

The cottage stood alone, its silhouette almost menacing against the barren expanse. The Pumpkin-Headed Boy approached and knocked on the closed door. Three seconds later, the faint glow of the lamp outside extinguished.

Darkness blanketed the screen. Then, the light flared back to life, now an unnatural purple hue. Its shape warped into a skull, with violet flames flickering in its hollow sockets and grinning maw.

The wooden door creaked open, just enough to reveal a sliver of the interior. Pressed against the narrow opening, an exposed eyeball, unblinking and grotesquely bare, stared intently at the boy.

The door groaned as it opened wider, and a gnarled hand extended from the darkness. Twisted and bone-thin, it resembled the roots of an ancient, cursed tree. Its palm turned upward in a silent demand.

[Hint: Press E to interact.]

“Is this an NPC? No idea what it wants.” With no other items in his inventory, Yu An directed the boy to retrieve the spiky weed from the ground and place it into the outstretched hand.

The weed twitched twice in the hand. The eyeball bulged grotesquely, bloodshot veins crawling across its surface. Clearly, it had hurt the figure.

A sudden, earsplitting shriek erupted from the speakers, sharp and feral. The creature’s arm stretched, swelling into a massive, blood-red limb that crashed down like a falling tree. The impact was devastating, smashing the Pumpkin-Headed Boy into a splattered mess of pulp and gore.

[Death]

“Wait… Did I just die?” Yu An blinked at the fading gray screen, momentarily stunned. Then, realization struck. “Ah, I get it. That thing must’ve been this area’s boss. I should’ve found a weapon or some gear first. Instead, I just handed it a random weed… and pissed it off.”

“This is pretty fun,” Yu An admitted, leaning back in his chair to stretch. As he glanced to his side, he noticed Zhao Ran’s chair was empty.

Turning, Yu An found Zhao Ran standing behind him, gripping the chair’s backrest and inching further away from the computer. “This is terrifying. How can kids play something like this without being scared?”

“This isn’t even a horror game. What part scared you?” Yu An asked, bewildered.

“The part where the weed hurt your hands. That scared me to death.” Zhao Ran muttered, nervously adjusting the straps on his gloves as though trying to protect himself.