"Immature? He called you immature?" Ryuk burst into shrill, grating laughter, spraying rotten apple pulp from his gaping mouth onto the filthy floor. "Wahahaha! Hear that? He said you weren't good enough! Your 'performance' got a bad review! Return it! Refund!"
He laughed as he pounded the floor with his withered, clawlike hand, his entire misshapen body shaking.
I didn't laugh. My fingertips were icy, but a fire burned in my chest, cold and heat strangely entwined. Humiliation crept over me like a poisonous vine, constricting even my breath.
He had seen through my probe and scoffed at it without mercy. He had even read "fear" into it.
Fear?
No. That was an insult.
I needed to respond. Not with words, but with action. With a louder, more unpredictable, more "artistic" judgment that would slam that word-"immature"-right back into his face.
But I couldn't directly trespass into the "forbidden zone" he had marked out, as I had before. That would be truly stupid and... immature. I needed a target that would demonstrate absolute control while deftly avoiding a head-on clash, perhaps even turning his warning to my advantage.
A... signal. To tell him I had heard his "review" and didn't care in the slightest.
My gaze returned to the screen, my brain filtering information at high speed. Public outrage, legal blind spots, social impact... none of those were enough. This target had to be special. It had to convey my message precisely.
I scrolled past countless crimes before finally stopping on a name.
Zhou Yixuan. A renowned public-interest lawyer, an online moral exemplar, the "light of justice" in countless people's hearts. But recently, several owners of small and micro businesses on the verge of collapse had jointly accused him. Trusting his reputation for "public service," they had accepted legal aid from his firm, only to be tricked through seemingly compliant procedures into signing deeply unfavorable contracts. In the end, their core assets had been swallowed up at bargain prices by capital interests linked to him. The evidence was murky, public opinion had been perfectly manipulated, and the accusers had instead been smeared as "ungrateful wretches" and "extortionists."
A perfect hypocrite. A wolf in sheep's clothing. Tearing away that painted mask would deliver a far greater shock than exposing a mere villain.
Besides, going after him meant going after the front man for a certain circle of investors while neatly avoiding sensitive figures in officialdom. Did that count as... cheese in a gray area?
His death couldn't be a simple punishment. It had to be a complete... stripping away of the mystique. Every disguise had to be peeled off, his filthiest inner workings exposed in broad daylight.
I opened the notebook, my pen trembling slightly with a cold excitement.
[Zhou Yixuan]
Cause of death: physical death following social death. Time: eight tomorrow evening, during the live broadcast of the awards ceremony where he will receive the "Top Ten Public-Service Figures of the Year" award. Cause of death: repeatedly striking his own head with the base of the golden trophy on the awards stage until dead. Before dying, he must face the live camera, admit to every accusation against him in the most detailed and irrefutable manner possible, and disclose the number and password of the overseas account used to transfer the assets.
As I wrote the final words, I could almost picture it. The golden trophy, the charitable smile, the live camera, then a sudden eruption of blood and confession. The ultimate irony, the ultimate violence, the ultimate... drama.
Now that was worthy of my "performance."
"Oh?" Ryuk stopped laughing and tilted his head, his scarlet eyes fixed on the writing in the notebook. "This is good! More fun than slitting his belly! Smashing his own face to pieces in front of everyone? Hahaha! I like it! Humans really do come up with all kinds of ways to torment themselves!"
He finally seemed to have taken a genuine interest.
Eight o'clock sharp the following evening.
The annual public-service awards ceremony was being broadcast live nationwide. Zhou Yixuan had just accepted the heavy trophy. Wearing his trademark gentle, humble smile, he was about to deliver his acceptance speech.
The camera moved in for a close-up.
Then that face, so full of moral virtue, abruptly stiffened. His smile froze, like a cheap mask suddenly cracking. His pupils dilated sharply, reflecting the countless bewildered spectators and flashing cameras below the stage.
"I..." His voice carried through the microphone across the venue, dry and distorted. "I am guilty."
A ripple of polite, puzzled laughter rose from the audience. They thought it was some novel opening line.
But in the next instant, he raised the heavy base of the golden trophy in his hands-an abstract sculpture of a set of scales-and slammed it into his own temple with all his strength!
Thud!
The dreadful, dull impact was amplified by the high-quality sound system, making everyone's heart clench.
Blood instantly spurted out, splashing onto his snow-white shirt and the gleaming golden awards podium.
"I embezzled those companies' assets! The account is in the Cayman Islands! The number is XXXXXX! The password is XXXX!" he roared. His fractured skull and agonizing pain warped his voice, yet it remained extraordinarily clear, every word hammering into the audience's eardrums. "I colluded with Deputy Mayor Liu's younger brother-in-law! The evidence is in my office safe! The hidden compartment! The password is-"
Thud! Another blow! Harder! Heavier!
His frontal bone visibly caved in. Blood smeared his entire face, leaving only his eyes staring wide, filled with absolute terror and an uncontrollable urge to confess.
After one second of dead silence, screams erupted from the audience, loud enough to lift the roof!
The live feed was abruptly cut amid the director's frantic shouting.
But it was too late.
The most crucial information had already traveled over the airwaves to every corner.
True social death and physical death had been accomplished at the same time.
In my room, the screen showed nothing but blue after the broadcast was cut.
In the corner, Ryuk, for once, wasn't gnawing on an apple. He merely watched that blue screen, making a low, satisfied rumbling sound like a beast after a full meal.
This time, the burner phone stayed silent for a long time.
Long enough for the darkness outside the window to grow impenetrably thick.
Not until two in the morning.
Only then did it finally ring.
The ringtone sounded especially jarring in the silence.
I picked it up and answered.
There was no silence.
The electronic voice spoke almost immediately, slightly faster than before. It was still processed, yet it could hardly conceal that faintest trace of... a hitch in its rhythm.
"The first three digits of the Cayman Islands account number were wrong."
After saying that, he paused for a full three seconds.
"The performance had real dramatic tension."
"But the details..."
"Remember to check them carefully next time."
Click.
The call ended.
I stood motionless in the darkness, holding the phone.
He knew.
He even knew the real first three digits of that overseas account number. He was telling me my information was wrong, or... that he had more accurate information.
But he wasn't angry. There had been no stronger warning. He had reviewed the "performance" and pointed out an error in the "details."
As though he were... helping with homework?
Cold fury and a strange excitement rose within me, intertwining once again.
He was still trying to maintain that air of condescending control.
But I knew this time was different.
I had deliberately written the wrong account number.
A tiny, almost imperceptible piece of bait.
He had taken it.
He really did have access to that extremely confidential financial information.
Now I had glimpsed a small piece of him.
Amid the noise, I had finally caught a trace of a genuine signal.
The game had moved up a level.
Before you continue