Qi Si opened his eyes and belatedly realized that, as expected, he had forgotten to ask about the wristband again.
The principle behind the wristband being able to enter the game likely involved something broader and more important than the Identity Card system.
He yawned faintly, then suddenly realized something:
Since an existence on the level of the pact could affect his cognition, couldn't it also erase his hostility?
Was his current wariness and vigilance toward the pact also something the pact had painstakingly induced?
Once this matter was nested layer upon layer like Russian dolls, it had long since become impossible to sort out. No matter which angle he considered it from, it could all be rationalized.
The only thing Qi Si could be certain of was that his persecutory delusion had gotten worse again—terminally so, the incurable kind.
Well, it was fine. His mental illnesses were already piling up; one more made no difference.
Qi Si shook his head to himself and floated lightly up from the bed. Looking down, he saw that he was wearing a red suit and trousers. His body, dressed in white pajamas, lay on the bed with its eyes tightly shut.
He was acting up again.
Qi Si was used to it. Since he had nothing important to do, he was in no hurry to crawl back into his body. He simply floated along the ceiling, listlessly looking down at his bedroom.
The neat room had no unnecessary furnishings. A small idol dressed in red bridal robes lay quietly beside the pillow. It was the [Joy God Idol] Xu Yao had turned into, which he had brought out of the game.
From Qi Si's perspective, wisps of black smoke wound across the idol's surface. Its smiling crimson lips seemed as though blood might