Rolling

January 15th, high winds.

I…

don't know what to record anymore.

The despair that I can't shake has deeply consumed me, and I've even given up on the plan to write a suicide note.

Because I don't know what to write, or who to write it for. It will all be destroyed by the darkness under the sun anyway.

I can only leave behind my diary, find a way to hide it in the most concealed place within my sight, hoping that those who come after will see it, leave this place, and never return!

Remember this.

If you who are reading these words are evil itself, laugh at my corpse. But I will also, in some corner of heaven, or perhaps hell, utter the most venomous, most sincere, and most piercing curses upon you, for all eternity, without end.

January 16th, cloudy.

I had already anticipated this, but my last hope has been extinguished. I guess I've finally woken up. Is there still a sliver of hope left for me, who has become as cowardly and desperate as a maggot?

But this faint spark, so faint that even I couldn't detect it, was finally extinguished today.

All communication devices across the entire continent, or perhaps the entire planet, have been completely destroyed. This place has become stagnant water, more desperate than despair itself, its ultimate fate.

I'm leaving. I used the satellite equipment, and they might have discovered me. Stranger, wish me luck.

Wish me…

the strength to end myself before I become fodder for evil.

January 17th, sunny.

I entered this hotel through the ventilation shaft. The hotel's name is no longer important.

Because I am destined to die here, and so is this diary.

The outside has been completely occupied. Their whispers are destroying my every nerve, lingering, becoming a nightmare.

Every time I wake up in the middle of the night, I have to try hard to recall if I mumbled in my sleep, if I made any noise in my dreams that they might have heard.

I might be the last survivor in this area. Starting from two days ago, the terrifying wails in the night no longer echo everywhere.

But why do I find myself missing them? Missing those painful wails, the most desperate cries of my compatriots, occupied by evil…

It made me feel a sense of kinship, that there were still others like me.

I know I'm sick, but I can't stop it. If I were to pick up the pistol beside me and shoot myself in the head the next second, I wouldn't be surprised.

As Tang Chuan read, he fell asleep, sleeping soundly.

If the diary's owner knew that the most painful words he left at the end of his life were being read as a bedtime story by someone heartless, perhaps his curse would have one more target.

Tang Chuan once again dreamed of Azure Star, seeing his old acquaintances and homeland, witnessing the ravages of time leave irreversible marks on them.

But this time, before he could fully immerse himself, he was woken by a loud noise.

Tang Chuan immediately sat up from the sofa and looked towards the source of the sound.

The Star Hunter, who was sitting on the ground, had already moved, darting out like the wind.

Tang Chuan caught up, arriving at the "scene of the crime" almost simultaneously with him.

Only Tang Chuan and his companions were staying on the top floor of this hotel, and before they checked in, he had already instructed the front desk not to disturb them unless he requested it.

Yet, at this moment, this attendant in a hotel uniform, instead of using the lift, had entered the top floor through the ventilation shaft.

The hidden trap set by the Star Hunter captured him instantly. Several nearly invisible ropes bound him firmly to the ground.

The noise just now was the sound of him rolling down from the ventilation shaft.

The tightly bound attendant trembled when he saw Tang Chuan and Nokton arrive instantly, stammering, "I, I am a hotel attendant, I came to ask if Mr. Tang Chuan and the others need any special services!"

"Heh!"

Tang Chuan couldn't be bothered to deal with him and kicked him into the room.

Then he asked, "Didn't I tell you not to come up if there's nothing important? Is this the service attitude of your hotel? You don't use the lift, what are you, Spider-Man?"

The attendant, dazed from the kick, quickly argued, "I… this is my side hustle, the hotel can't know about it! Mr. Tang Chuan, I'm really not lying to you! Please don't tell the manager!"

Tang Chuan didn't ask any more questions and directly asked Quintessa to scan his memory.

A flash of light appeared in Quintessa's eyes, and her expression became somewhat grim. She said to Tang Chuan in his mind, "According to my investigation, that's indeed the case. He wanted to… take on some private jobs? And if the guests weren't around, he'd also sneakily pocket some valuables. He does this often.

But it's definitely not that simple. Right now, the more normal it seems, the more suspicious it is!"

Tang Chuan thought the same.

This hotel is quite high-class, would it have such a low-class attendant?

Even if it did, climbing up through the ventilation shafts from the lower floors is too reckless. Can the hotel's ventilation shafts connect the entire building?

It's more like a secret passage!

Tang Chuan remained silent, his expressionless face observing the attendant.

He noticed that amidst his panicked expression, the attendant was still glancing around with his peripheral vision.

"Aren't you afraid of death?"

Tang Chuan slapped the man twice, stunning him. "Tell me the truth. Who sent you, and what was your purpose?"

The waiter's eyes spun, his cheeks swelling. "Don't, don't hit me! I'm really not lying! I admit, besides taking private jobs, I was also casing the place, planning to steal something after you left. But I had no ill intentions!"

Tang Chuan chuckled. "And you call that no ill intentions? It seems you're not that afraid. You're still looking around. Don't tell me you're casing the place again?"

The waiter immediately averted his gaze, begging, "I, I know I was wrong! I won't bother you again. My friend can give you a discount at the backstage. Please don't report me, and I can waive your room fees for the next few days!"

Tang Chuan looked at him for a moment, then said calmly, "Alright, go. Just don't cause any more trouble. We'll let you off this time."

"Ah..."

Before the waiter could even react, the rope around him automatically loosened and fell to the ground.

After a moment of stunned silence, as Tang Chuan wiped his hands and went to drink at the bar, the waiter finally came to his senses. "Thank you. As long as you don't report me, I guarantee you'll get your discount in the end. Please!"

Tang Chuan: "Scram!"

The waiter didn't dare to say another word, scrambling out and disappearing into the ventilation shaft.

Nokton hesitated, then asked, "You're just going to let him go? There's something wrong here."

He then knelt on one knee and reached under the sofa.

Finally, he pulled out a nearly transparent, wafer-thin listening device and crushed it.

"He planted this when he was kicked in earlier. This guy is definitely suspicious."

Tang Chuan placed his glass on the counter. "I know he's suspicious, that's why I let him go. You have a new mission: monitor him, see who he contacts, and use this to contact me."

A pattern appeared on the side of the Star Hunter's cheek – a communicator derived from a Fantasy Attribute.

Nokton nodded. "Understood. I've already applied a tracking powder to him. I'll know who he contacts immediately."

"Go."

"Yes."