Chu Qingjiu did not sleep peacefully, for he had a long, lifelike dream.
In the dream, everything was pitch-black, without a trace of light. He sat on the icy Throne, controlling his puppets.
Suddenly, a clear voice rang out from the darkness below.
"We meet again, Lord Puppeteer."
Chu Qingjiu froze at the sound.
That voice was so familiar that hearing it made his nose sting, filling him with hurt and a reluctance to let go.
Yet he could not remember who it belonged to.
What did he mean by "we meet again"? Had we met before?
"Who are you?"
In the darkness beneath the Throne, he could vaguely make out the silhouette of a person. It was too hazy to see clearly, yet Chu Qingjiu found it terribly familiar.
He should have beautiful, clear amber eyes, full of mischief when they looked at him, as though they held countless stars.
His eyes would curve as he nuzzled into the crook of Chu Qingjiu's neck, seeking affection.
The person in the darkness chuckled. "I'm here to kill you."
Kill me? Why are you the one who wants to kill me?
"Why?"
"Because you're the Dungeon Boss. Is it strange that I've come to kill you?"
That's right. He's a player, and I'm the Dungeon Boss. Isn't it only natural for him to kill me? But why does it hurt so much?
Chu Qingjiu could not hold back his tears. The golden half-mask hid them well. He did not resist, because he did not want to.
He had never found his time without freedom difficult to endure, because it made no difference to him whether he lived or died, whether he was free or not.
No one cared about him, and he cared about no one.
But now, things were different.