Of course, it’s not that I’m trying to claim I have a particularly strong mentality, but in this situation, it’s just too easy to fall into a sense of resigned acceptance.
Right now, I really do feel resigned.
Lin Mo expertly tied me to the chair with a rope, so skilled it was as if he’d practiced it a thousand times before and he seemed overly familiar with my home.
The rope was mine, that knife as well—they were both from my peak adolescent delusions days, when on a whim, I had ordered a custom-made antique-style tanto online.
Later, both were buried deep in the basement’s pile of junk, together with that unbearable black history.
I looked at Lin Mo, and Lin Mo stared right back at me, his gaze like a venom-tipped hook—cold and ruthless.
After a long moment, he spoke, “Can’t you change that expression?”
His words caught me off guard.
I hesitated for a moment, then stuck out my tongue and awkwardly made a silly face, as if to “change my expression” as he asked.
Lin Mo didn’t seem very satisfied with my performance.
He raised his hand and patted my cheek, then started to rub it roughly, his strength as crude as if he were inspecting an object.
“So it’s really not plastic surgery.” He muttered under his breath, the murderous intent in his eyes temporarily replaced by curiosity.
I didn’t know why he’d suddenly become interested in my face, but I obediently stopped making the silly face.
His fingertips were cold, with a metallic tang and an indescribable, sweet-bloody smell, but his palm was warm.
“Mr. Lin, I don’t believe I’ve ever mentioned any issues about my appearance to you. Although, it does conform to general standards of attractiveness, but that’s clearly not the point right now.” I tried to keep my voice steady, though being tied up made me feel extremely insecure.
“You seem to harbor deep hatred toward me, or rather, toward my very existence. Could you tell me why? As far as I recall, we’ve never even had a proper conversation.”
Lin Mo stopped tormenting my cheek.
His eyes locked onto mine.
He stepped back two paces, bent down to pick up the long knife from the floor, and pointed the tip at my chest, right over my heart.
“Ruerke City, Lanhai District, Seaside Garden Villa Area No. 212, Lu Dongnuan. One of the Four Matriarchs, Linebreaker, second special infected under the Solo Number.” His voice was low and chilling.
“Even if you don’t understand, I don’t need you to. Next time, if you’re going to lie, remember to do it properly.” Before the words had finished leaving his lips, the long knife stabbed fiercely toward my heart.
There was no look of disbelief on my face, nor did I twist in expected agony—everything was calm.
There was even a hint of pity in my eyes.
Pitiful, truly pitiful.
At this age, and still encountering this level of adolescent delusions.
Meeting a “kindred spirit” does bring a bit of comfort, but in this situation, it’s hardly appropriate to feel joy or mockery.
Don’t be fooled by my appearance, my threshold for laughter is actually quite low.
Lin Mo slowly withdrew the knife, and the tip emerged as the pressure faded.
It looked sharp and fierce, but it was a retractable knife.
Lin Mo stared at the blade slowly snapping back, then glanced at my sweater—utterly unscathed, not even a scratch.
The madness and hatred on his face froze, as if someone had hit pause.
In their place was utter confusion, and the anger of being toyed with.
“You…” His throat let out a hoarse sound.
He looked at the knife, then at me.
“Pretty realistic, isn’t it?” I sighed softly, my breath turning to white mist in the cold air.
“Mr. Lin, it seems your information is a bit off. And, just picking up someone else’s basement toys for murder—don’t you think that’s a bit unserious?”
Lin Mo glared at the blade fully retracted into the hilt, then springing out again.
A twitch ran through his facial muscles.
It was that feeling of unleashing a full-force blow onto a pile of cotton.
This time, he actually found it funny.
“No wonder you never use it to hack anyone. You knew all along.” His words squeezed out through gritted teeth.
“I didn’t know.” I replied honestly, shifting my shoulders a bit as the rope was cutting in uncomfortably, then added, “I just thought… well, a real murder weapon should be a bit more utilitarian.”
I paused, watching his expression grow darker, and added, “Of course, that’s just my guess. Looks like I was lucky.”
He didn’t get angry at my sarcasm.
Instead, he walked over to another chair, sat down, and closed his eyes to rest.
He didn’t go to the kitchen to look for another weapon…
It seemed he knew very well that there wasn’t a real knife in my home.
“Four Matriarchs, Linebreaker, Solo Number…” I was the first to speak, repeating his words from earlier, “Sounds like some sort of… online game or niche sci-fi setting. Mr. Lin, your sense of reality seems even worse than our previous assessment. Given what’s happening outside, my initial judgment is you might be experiencing severe delusional symptoms, projecting a collective disaster or personal trauma onto a fictional narrative, with me, unfortunately, cast as your story’s villain.”
I tried to move my tied wrists—the rope was tight, but not unbearable.
“I’m not here to discuss medical issues with you.” He coldly cut me off and stepped forward, as if he wanted to strangle me barehanded.
But seeing how calm I was, he seemed to hesitate.
“All right, then let’s talk about you.” I smoothly switched topics, “You said I’m one of the Four Matriarchs—where’s your evidence? And that very playful weapon of yours… pfft.”
Lin Mo glared at me, breathing heavily, his eyes showing indescribable exhaustion and sorrow, “Lu Dongnuan, we all believed in you…”
“Of course,” I quickly interrupted him, “You all can continue to believe in me. At least, for now, I’m quite trustworthy, don’t you think?”
Lin Mo actually laughed in frustration.
He grabbed his chair and moved closer, right in front of me.
“Heh, fine. Let’s see what you can say to convince me. If you can really persuade me, I’ll let you go.”
I smiled by looking into his eyes and asked, “Then, can you tell me first—what kind of apocalypse is this?”
“Huh?”
“See? Look at me,” I moved in my chair, “I have no idea what’s going on. Since you came from outside, you must have seen everything.”
“You have no right to ask questions.”
“Then, please, can you tell me?” My tone was gentle; I didn’t know what kind of expression I wore, but I probably looked quite pitiful.
Lin Mo stared at me as if seeing something inconceivable.
“Heh, damn, this is seriously bizarre.”
“Bizarre? Why do you say that—did you know me before?”
“No, I’ll get to know you in the future.”
“You like saying pointless things too, huh.”
Lin Mo leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs, as if handing me the stage.
“All right, no more small talk. Go ahead, convince me.”
“I can be your **.”
“?”