When Bai Liu woke up, he found himself sitting in the back seat of a car.
The interior was cramped and narrow. The worn leather seats carried a stale tobacco smell, and thin streams of rainwater slid down the windows without quite forming droplets. Beyond the glass, he could vaguely make out a drizzling rain beneath a dim, overcast sky that blurred the line between dusk and night. A faint briny stench of salted fish lingered in the air, unpleasant enough to make him instinctively frown.
A translucent panel floated into view before him.
[Game Instructions]
Bai Liu’s brows knit together.
Where was he? Why was he here? And what exactly was this panel?
As if responding to the questions in his mind, lines of text began appearing one after another.
[You are currently inside a deadly game.
The reason you were selected is that, after losing your job, an intense desire for wealth was detected within you, activating the conditions necessary to enter the game.]
Only then did Bai Liu slowly remember what had happened.
Right.
He had been laid off.
Bai Liu had always possessed an abnormal obsession with money. Ever since childhood, his fixation had far exceeded the ordinary to the point that a psychiatrist once diagnosed him with “Money Hoarding Disorder.” The doctor had warned him repeatedly that if he failed to restrain his greed, one day he would inevitably risk his life for money.
As long as he still had a stable salary, Bai Liu could barely keep that desire under control. But the moment he lost his job, something inside him spiraled completely out of control. He became consumed by a frantic, almost pathological urge to accumulate wealth.
His psychiatrist described it as “a perfectly normal psychological response for a recently unemployed corporate worker,” then advised him to adjust his mindset and travel to relax.
Bai Liu had nearly laughed in disbelief.
Without money, traveling wouldn’t mean seeing the world. It would mean seeing hell.
He had asked the psychiatrist with complete sincerity, “If I travel the world, will I become rich?”
The psychiatrist stared at him, stunned. “Of course not. You’ll become even poorer.”
Bai Liu: “...”
So you understand perfectly well what the problem is.
“But after becoming poorer,” the psychiatrist continued gently, “you may realize that poverty itself isn’t so frightening. Money is only a worldly possession. There’s no need to torment yourself over it.”
Bai Liu looked at him expressionlessly.
“Is meeting a patient like me painful?”
Psychiatrist: “...”
Yes. Extremely.
Bai Liu let out a dry laugh. “Then why are you tormenting yourself like this? Why not quit your job and go travel?”
Psychiatrist: “...”
For the money. Without money, I wouldn’t dare travel either.
The psychiatrist nearly burst into tears on the spot.
After making an unknown number of psychiatrists cry, Bai Liu had come to the profound realization that poverty truly was humanity’s greatest weapon.
The only downside was that it tended to injure yourself more than the enemy.
Fortunately, his psychiatrist was assigned through a free community program. Otherwise, Bai Liu would have become even poorer.
After losing his job, Bai Liu remained trapped in a constant state of anxiety. Sometimes he would dream about becoming rich overnight, laughing wildly while sitting atop mountains of cash. Then he would wake up to reality and feel even more miserable than before.
After all, his savings had barely reached five figures.
During those endless days of unemployment and mounting panic, Bai Liu often rested his chin on one hand and drifted into fantasies.
If only there existed some high-risk method of making money in this world.
He didn’t care about the danger. He wanted money.
He once shared these thoughts with a friend, who responded by pointing toward a copy of the Criminal Law sitting on Bai Liu’s bookshelf.
“See that book?”
Bai Liu said yes.
“Open it to any random page,” the friend said solemnly. “Every crime listed there is technically a high-risk, high-reward career path. If you work hard enough, you might even make this month’s expedited execution list.”
Bai Liu: “...”
He didn’t want to break the law.
Was there seriously no legal way to get rich overnight?
His friend replied instantly:
“Dream faster.”
Even if it costs my life, I still want money.
That had been Bai Liu’s final thought before he lost consciousness and was dragged into this game.
The memory faded.
Bai Liu looked back at the floating panel before him.
Another line appeared.
[Correct. Your overwhelming desire activated the game.
As long as you successfully clear the game, you may obtain anything you desire.]
“I want money,” Bai Liu answered immediately.
He didn’t care what kind of game this was. As long as it paid well, that was enough.
After a pause, he asked cautiously:
“This game ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) of yours... it’s legal, right?”
Panel: [...It is legal.]
Panel: [By clearing game instances, players earn points. Points may be exchanged for money or any other desired item.]
Bai Liu relaxed slightly.
“What kind of game is this? And what exactly am I supposed to do to clear it?”
Panel: [This is a horror escape game. The game contains ghosts, murderers, and incomprehensible supernatural phenomena. Your objective is to identify their weaknesses, complete the storyline of each instance, and survive.]
[Game Instance Loading... Complete]
[Instance Name: “Siren Town”]
[Difficulty Level: Grade 1
(Instances with a player death rate below 50% are classified as Grade 1)]
[Mode: Single Player]
[Instance Overview:
This is a thrilling game instance combining combat and puzzle-solving elements. It is highly popular among players, though somewhat unfriendly toward newcomers. Rookie mortality rates are especially high.]
[Player Information Loading... Complete]
[Player Name: Bai Liu]
[HP: 100
(When HP drops below 60, attack power decreases. HP reaching zero results in death.)]
[Stamina: 80
(You are currently full of energy.)]
[Agility: 25
(Years of sitting at a desk have left your body stiff and uncoordinated.)]
[Attack: 30
(Your offensive capabilities are roughly equivalent to a high school girl swinging a schoolbag.)]
[Intelligence: 89
(Surprisingly clever.)]
[Luck: 0
(You have been extraordinarily unlucky your entire life. If your company only needed to lay off one employee, it definitely would have been you.)]
[Skill: None
(You currently possess no skills.)]
[Mental Value: 100
(You are the first player this year to enter the game with a full Mental Value.)]
A line of small red text appeared beneath the Mental Value stat.
(Note: Players must maintain a Mental Value above 60.
Below 60: mental instability occurs, reducing all player attributes by 50%.
Below 40: players begin seeing hallucinations unrelated to the game, greatly increasing instance difficulty.
Below 20: players enter a state of madness, causing attack attributes to fluctuate violently and indiscriminately target nearby lifeforms.
Mental Value reaching 0 results in complete assimilation into the instance, transforming the player into a monster.)
[Overall Player Evaluation: F-Rank
(Lowest Tier)
However, due to the player’s unusually high Intelligence and Mental Value, this evaluation remains uncertain.
Final Rank: F(?)]
After reading through the entire status panel, Bai Liu stared at the question mark after the “F” for a moment, feeling vaguely insulted.
He casually swiped the panel aside, only for another one to appear immediately.
[You have entered the Rookie Channel television queue (1/100).
Current viewer count: 0.
Player popularity: 0.
Recharge rate: 0.]
Bai Liu frowned again.
“What does this mean?”
Panel: [Your gameplay is being broadcast live within the Rookie Area of the Player Hub for other players to watch. However, at present, no players are viewing your stream or spending points on your performance.]
Bai Liu understood instantly.
So it was basically livestreaming.
Still, he only cared about one detail.
“If people spend money on me, I receive points too?”
Panel: [Correct.]
[Game officially starting.
Good luck, rookie player.]
The panel flashed white like a television shutting off before vanishing completely.
Meanwhile, somewhere within the Player Hub, a small television screen suddenly flickered to life.
Bai Liu’s pale, clean-featured face appeared on-screen.
Around him were hundreds of similar screens displaying terrified rookie players. Some huddled into themselves like frightened hedgehogs, clutching their heads in denial. Others screamed hysterically while pounding against invisible barriers, desperately trying to escape.
Only Bai Liu remained completely calm.
Among the panicked newcomers, he looked utterly out of place.
Several nearby players glanced over curiously.
“Another rookie?”
“Looks like ‘Siren Town.’”
“Oof. Bad luck. Rookie survival rates in that instance are awful.”
“Wasn’t there a batch last time where ninety-nine out of a hundred died?”
“The recent beginner instances have been brutal. Still, watching rookies lose their minds never gets old.”
“Wait—”
One passing player abruptly stopped.
He moved closer to Bai Liu’s screen, then stared at the displayed attributes in disbelief.
“This rookie logged in with a Mental Value of 100?!”
“What?!”
“No way!”
“Move, let me see!”
“Damn, what kind of monster rookie is this?!”
“The last player who entered with a Mental Value of 100 is already in the top ten rankings now!”
“A potential prodigy!”
Bai Liu’s television screen flickered.
A mechanical notification sounded overhead.
[Fifty players have entered player Bai Liu’s live broadcast room.
Achievement unlocked: “Beginning to Gain Recognition.”
The ‘Like,’ ‘Favorite,’ and ‘Tip’ systems are now available.]
[28 players liked player Bai Liu’s stream.
56 players bookmarked player Bai Liu’s broadcast.
0 players tipped player Bai Liu.
Please continue working hard, player Bai Liu.]
