Diary

Zhou You hesitated for a moment, then chose "Do not save."

As for the reason, it was simple: the progress of this dungeon so far wasn't long at all. In web novel terms, it probably hadn't even reached three chapters yet. He could easily memorize every detail of this small amount of content and then replay it exactly as it was.

However, if he saved here, and there was something he had truly missed earlier, there would be no room for redemption.

After opening the door, the old woman didn't say anything else. She tremblingly removed the master key from her keyring, shoved it into Zhou You's hand, and then turned around and left.

But Zhou You keenly noticed that the old woman's way of walking wasn't like a normal person's stride. Instead, she lifted one leg high, brought it down heavily, then lifted the other leg and brought it down again, repeating this motion to move forward.

Both legs... are they prosthetic? And very crude wooden ones at that?

Zhou You stared at the back gradually disappearing into the darkness, his brows slightly furrowed.

This might be one of the clues for escape, but it wasn't useful for the time being.

At least, not right now.

So in the end, he shook his head, turned around, and stepped into room 304.

Turning on the light, the first thing that met his eyes was a ruin.

...Or rather, a scene even more tragic than a ruin.

The floor was a mess of all kinds of trash—waste paper, dirt, and rotting food scraps filled every gap; he couldn't even find a place to step. The walls were covered in large patches of mold, with red, green, black, and white colors forming a surreal, grotesque painting.

There was a window on the far side, but...

Zhou You walked up and cleanly pulled back the curtains, which were also covered in mold.

--As expected, no light shone through.

What appeared before his eyes now was nothing but a wall made of red bricks and cement.

The heavy masonry stood like an insurmountable chasm, blocking any possibility of escape. Zhou You tapped on it slightly, hearing only a dull, muffled echo.

Judging by the thickness, this wasn't something that could be opened by physical strength alone. To break through this wall, he would need at least a hammer drill.

"This is supposed to be beginner difficulty? Isn't that a bit excessive?"

Zhou You spat, but despite his words, there was no look of regret on his face.

He simply turned his head nonchalantly and scanned the room once more.

It was still that filthy environment; even the bed and desk were covered in mold, looking no different from the rest of the place...

Wait, a desk?

Zhou You frowned and shifted his gaze.

In the corner of the room, a small desk was tucked away against the wall. Judging by its condition, it was very old; one of the legs was even broken and propped up by a stone. A candle was lit on the far side of the table—though it was hard to see due to the angle.

Although there was still mold, unlike the rest of the room, this desk didn't have much dust on it.

This meant that someone must have used it.

"But the question is, who was the user?"

Zhou You rubbed his chin in thought.

Some nameless person, the previous tenant who died miserably somewhere, or perhaps...

That monster-like old woman?

Zhou You stared at the table for a long while, but eventually, he cautiously walked up and gently pressed one hand onto it.

The table didn't turn into some unspeakable monster, nor did it suddenly sprout a bunch of sharp teeth, nor did a massive swarm of maggots pour out.

He could tolerate the first two—at worst, he'd just die once—but the last one...

Sorry, everyone has one or two things they simply cannot accept.

After confirming there was no danger, Zhou You first checked the drawers.

Unfortunately, there was only a pile of disorganized paper balls inside. He unfolded a few at random and found that most were written with chaotic, incoherent phrases, while a few were stained with blood, vomit, and some turbid, foul-smelling suspicious mucus.

It seemed there were still no clues.

If it were an average person, they might have given up on this pile of junk and looked elsewhere, but Zhou You was different. He meticulously unfolded all the paper balls and spread them out on the table.

He weeded out the trash simply stained with fluids, leaving only the papers filled with words. Yet, the accounts before him were still incredibly chaotic—"incoherent" couldn't even begin to describe these writings; perhaps only a mental patient could understand what this person was writing. But Zhou You silently memorized all the words, then...

He scrambled them in his mind and reconnected them.

After a simple assembly, Zhou You found a pen and, at high speed, transcribed everything onto the blank space on the back of the papers.

...A fragmented diary gradually emerged under his hand.

May 8th, weather unknown.

I've been living in this house for three months. My savings are long gone, and I've borrowed everything I could from my relatives. My parents think I've joined some pyramid scheme or scam organization—honestly, I wish that were true. Unfortunately, they have no idea that the place I'm staying in now is more terrifying than any pyramid scheme or scam organization...

May 8th, weather unknown.

The new tenant downstairs called the police. The sirens wailed outside the building all day, but not a single police officer came in. This is normal, after all; a place like "Unit 4, Building 4, Garden Residential District" doesn't even exist. How could the police respond to a place that doesn't exist?

May 8th, weather unknown.

As expected, the tenant who called the police was rooted out. To set an example, the landlady gathered us for a "tenant social." That person was hung right in front of us, just like a pig about to be slaughtered in the countryside. The landlady held a rusty little knife and carefully demonstrated the method of "live organ harvesting" to us. What's even more terrifying is that the landlady used some unknown method; the man didn't lose much blood, and even though his internal organs were almost all removed, he was still alive, and he kept screaming in agony the whole time...

May 8th, weather unknown.

I can't get a single cent anymore. My parents' savings have been drained by me, I've even sold the house, and all my relatives and friends have blocked me. My body is getting worse and worse, to the point where even walking has become difficult. What do I do? If things keep going like this, I'll have to...

August 9th, weather sunny.

--Unlike before, this diary entry only has six characters.

Six simple characters.

--I must run, I have to run.