Chapter 21: Chat time

The only perk of volunteering as a Builder was that she got to choose her avatar’s gender. Unsurprisingly, He Feixian chose to be female.

“Maybe I should watch a different dungeon run…” she hesitated.

To her, these videos—where players teamed up with strategy guides—didn’t truly reflect a Builder’s skill.

There was no tension, no suspense, and the players practically steamrolled through.

But after a moment of temptation, she pulled her hand back. Fine. Watching how players cleared it the “correct” way might still help her understand the dungeon better.

If she didn’t get a clear picture, she could always watch another one later.

She had time. Tonight, she planned to pull an all-nighter and binge-watch every run she could find. There were only two dungeons, after all—surely there weren’t that many videos?

But as the video started playing, something unexpected happened. Despite having a walkthrough and coordinating as a team, the players’ performance steadily declined.

In-game, they couldn’t see it—but watching from outside the dungeon, He Feixian could. And it was clear: this wasn’t the look of people about to win.

Sure enough, two players died early on. Then, another betrayed the team in secret. Although the rest had anticipated it and restrained him, they still couldn’t prevent his death in the end.

In a dungeon with both a guide and a full team, only two players made it out alive.

“Amazing…” He Feixian was momentarily dazed. But then her eyes lit up, and her lips curled into an involuntary smile.

Now she was almost certain: Su Shisan really had been promoted to D-rank just by designing two dungeons—and there was no trickery involved.

If both dungeons were this difficult, she wouldn’t even be surprised if the game itself had secretly buffed Su Shisan’s ranking.

It might be a bit early to say this, but she had a feeling she’d gotten extremely lucky and matched with a true powerhouse.

At 8 a.m., Su Shisan arrived at [Sensitive Plant]’s apartment.

Since her Builder level wasn’t high enough, she could only choose smaller homes for now, and the apartment layout best matched [Sensitive Plant]’s preferences.

Builders were protected by the system—immune to injury and able to teleport home at will—so visiting someone else’s place came with no real risk.

Since [Sensitive Plant] had the bigger home, they’d agreed to meet there.

Su Shisan hadn’t brought He Feixian along today. The girl had clearly pulled an all-nighter and looked completely drained.

Even her usually flawless face now had dark circles to match Su Shisan’s.

There was no way she was bringing someone in that state outside. After breakfast, Su Shisan had gently kicked her out to go back to sleep.

“Try these pastries—I made them myself,” [Sensitive Plant] said after a bit of small talk.

She led Su Shisan out to the balcony for morning tea. Outside, a beautiful little garden stretched out like a postcard.

Of course, it was just a projection—an illusion crafted to imitate reality. Builders couldn’t leave their homes. They lived in isolated pockets of space, and everything outside was the Void.

Scenic illusions were just a way to fake a sense of normal life.

Su Shisan had set her own projection to resemble a farm: trickling streams, arched bridges, grassy fields dotted with sheep, cows, and rabbits.

It was soothing and refreshing, a nice break from the otherwise static daily routine.

At night, though, the whole place transformed.

The cheerful streams became ghostly rivers, the bridge turned into a haunted “Bridge of No Return,” complete with flickering black-and-white phantoms.

The grass glowed green under ghostlights, and the fields bloomed with crimson death-lilies. Even the animals turned into wandering spirits.

Those were the parts Su Shisan liked best. She couldn’t make it scary during the day—it might stress out the NPCs—but at night?

That was fair game.

Back to the present—Su Shisan took a bite of the cookie and politely praised it.

“This is delicious. You could honestly open a shop.”

She wasn’t just being nice. The little cake had a rich buttery flavor and a gorgeous presentation. It would fit right in at a boutique patisserie.

Su Shisan genuinely admired people who brought elegance into their everyday lives. She lived alone and cooked for herself, sure—but it was always basic stuff, and desserts?

Forget it.

[Sensitive Plant]’s eyes lit up.

“Do you think I could… open a shop in the Builder’s Capital?”

Su Shisan looked confused.

“What’s that?”

She hadn’t learned about the Builder’s Capital yet.

Seeing her reaction, [Sensitive Plant] laughed sheepishly.

“I got bored and started asking the system questions about it. There are actually quite a few Builders out there—not as many as players, of course—but enough to make the city lively.”

“Some people open little businesses to earn points.”

Now Su Shisan understood. The system provided free ingredients. If [Sensitive Plant] sold the food she made, it’d be pure profit.

And everyone needed points. Whether to upgrade quality of life or boost dungeon performance, points were essential. Wanting to earn them with her skills?

Completely reasonable.

As for why she was bringing it up to Su Shisan—well, it was obvious. She was still a new Builder, and unless she got lucky like Su Shisan, reaching D-rank would take months.

She needed to earn points early, and Su Shisan might be the only D-rank she knew—plus, they had worked together before. This was her way of testing the waters.

But Su Shisan wasn’t in a rush to say yes. Calmly, she played it vague:

“Maybe. I’ve never opened a shop before, so I’m not sure.”

As she spoke, she set the cake back on the tray, subtly signaling her stance: she wasn’t interested.

Business was business. Friendship was another matter.

They’d only collaborated once—not enough for trust or deep ties. From a purely practical standpoint, teaming up offered more risk than reward.

She’d have to front all the startup points herself. Sweets needed to be rotated every few days, staff would need to be hired, and while the desserts were tasty, they weren’t exactly irreplaceable.

Maybe there’d be a profit, but a slow return. Su Shisan wasn’t short on points—her two dungeons were still generating steady income.

There was no need to dive into unnecessary complexity.

Her meaning was clear, and [Sensitive Plant] picked up on it. She bit her lip, then dropped the topic.

“Anyway—congrats on ranking up from E to D in just one dungeon. That’s incredible.”

After their last meeting, she had looked it up. To rank up from E to D, a Builder had to achieve a “total party kill” within half the dungeon’s time limit—something notoriously difficult.

Most Builders couldn’t even manage a full wipeout, let alone within a time constraint.

“Thanks, just got lucky,” Su Shisan said modestly. Honestly, getting matched with clueless players had been a stroke of luck.

If they’d only used the mobile storage NPC to share info earlier—instead of waiting around for lunch break—they might have survived longer.

[Sensitive Plant] didn’t buy it.

“You’re just being humble.”

She didn’t know that Su Shisan had jumped from F to D in just two dungeons, but she did know how tough it was to rank up from one.

And she’d participated in that dungeon herself—she knew just how brutal it had been.

Honestly, she thought it was a blessing that most of the players had died early.

The traps that came later were relentless. Even if they’d lasted longer, they were headed for a wipeout anyway.

And with how secretive the walkthrough groups were, she didn’t believe anyone could crack Su Shisan’s dungeon easily.

Unlike other dungeons that relied on “hard puzzles” or “brutal fights,” hers were full of creative traps and emotional manipulation—things that couldn’t be solved just by brute force.

Players were still far from discovering everything, and she was sure there were hidden mechanics in the Corrupted NPCs that hadn’t even been triggered yet.

In fact, she had a burning question:

“Is it actually possible to clear that dungeon?”

Then she added quickly, “Just curious! You don’t have to tell me if you’d rather not.”

The game required all dungeons to have a theoretical “true clear” path—even if players couldn’t find it, it had to exist.

For example, in Su Shisan’s first dungeon, “Perfect Playmate No. 13,” the solution was simple: rotate six players in shifts to accompany the girl in her studies.

With a fair schedule, full survival was possible.

But Su Shisan had loopholes of her own—like giving the girl extremely generous break privileges. If she slacked off three times, the players’ stats wouldn’t hold up.

They couldn’t win.

“Of course it’s possible,” Su Shisan replied without hesitation. She wasn’t worried about leaking secrets—F-rank Builders like [Sensitive Plant] couldn’t contact players anyway.

She explained, “If you bond with the store manager early on, she won’t target you. Then, at noon, kidnap her and let her draw the Corrupted NPCs’ attention.”

“For the final two hours, hide somewhere they can’t find you. That’s one way to clear it—I’m sure there are others too.”

The logic made sense, but [Sensitive Plant] was flabbergasted.

“Kidnap the manager??” Her jaw nearly hit the floor.

The manager had top-tier combat stats—she could take on five players solo. Without her power, she wouldn’t have been assigned as the investigator.

Kidnapping her was possible in theory… but fail, and it was instant death.

Not to mention, the kidnapping relied on a bug: using the lunch break, when she wasn’t officially “on the clock,” to avoid the system’s sanity penalties.

Go a minute too long, and the manager would go berserk. Fail to kidnap her properly?

She’d retaliate, hard.

And the final hiding step?

Ludicrous. The supermarket was tiny, barely big enough for a convenience store. Where were they supposed to hide?

Even if they knew about the hidden passageway, figuring out the password was a feat on its own.

And if the corrupted manager found it, she could open it from the outside. Killing her was the only way to stay safe.

But killing her would tank SAN values hard. It’d have to be someone completely untouched by Corruption. Another impossibly high requirement.

In short: what Su Shisan claimed was technically doable—but only barely. The game accepted it as valid, and that was what mattered.

[Sensitive Plant] was floored.

“You’re incredible… We’re both technically rookie Builders, but how are you this good?”

Su Shisan casually swallowed the last bite of cake.

“How are you this good at baking?”

The two exchanged a smile.

Back at her own place, Su Shisan was getting ready to visit the Builder’s Capital.

She wasn’t much of a socialite, but curiosity still got the better of her.

Player cities were easy to imagine—like MMO hubs full of stalls, gear shops, restaurants, maybe some guild headquarters. But what would a Builder city look like?

The system helpfully explained, “There aren’t many rules. Since Builders don’t have natural social interaction, the Capital is mostly entertainment.”

It sounded cheerful as it added, “Only thing to watch out for is unlicensed shops. Some sell truth serums or knockout potions.”

Su Shisan got the hint. Sure, she was immune to damage and could teleport home—but if her consciousness got hijacked?

Trouble.

Especially if someone stole her dungeon concepts. If someone beat her to registration, she’d be out of luck.

“You guys don’t regulate that?” she asked, surprised—not because she expected the game to be just or fair, but because it seemed like bad business.

“We protect Builders as much as possible,” the system replied.

“But evil is one of the traits we look for in new Builders.”

“…Evil? Me?” Su Shisan blinked in disbelief.

She wasn’t exactly a saint, but she’d never committed any crimes either. Was this a “guilty thoughts” thing?

“Evil, horror, imagination, and tolerance,” the system said.

“A Builder must have at least three of those traits to qualify. I don’t know which ones you’ve got—that data’s top-level.”

Su Shisan didn’t press the matter. She understood the logic. Horror and evil went hand in hand.

With more than half of all Builders skewing toward morally gray or worse, a bit of chaos was inevitable.

And if someone dumb got conned by someone brilliant?

That was just natural selection.

“Is stuff expensive there?” she asked. With about 5,000 points on hand, she wasn’t poor, but she wasn’t loaded either.

“Very,” said the system bluntly.

Before she could say more, there was a knock at her door.

Only one person would visit at this hour.

Su Shisan opened the door.

“Feixian? What is it?”

Now well-rested, He Feixian stood at the doorway, eyes bright, features radiant—even without makeup. Her excitement was hard to miss.

“Boss! I watched both of your dungeon runs. You’re amazing! I could never have come up with any of that!”

She pulled out a little black notebook.

“I jotted down some notes on the dungeon and the NPCs based on the playthroughs. Could you take a look and see if they match your original designs?”

It was a habit from her acting days—summarizing the story and her character’s insights to prepare for roles. Now, as an NPC, she applied the same diligence.

She didn’t want to disappoint the Builder who had picked her.

Su Shisan raised a brow in surprise but took the notebook. She flipped through it for a bit, then nodded in approval.

“Not bad. Both NPCs in these dungeons weren’t hostile to the players—you picked up on that. Good eye.”

In “Perfect Playmate No. 13,” the girl NPC was simply childish. She didn’t realize she was hurting people—she just wanted to play.

Interestingly, one alternate clear path was to keep breaking rules until the girl found it amusing and agreed to study. No one had discovered that yet.

As for the “Thirteenth Supermarket,” the store manager NPC wasn’t just neutral—she genuinely pitied the players.

But she knew her duty was to guard the supermarket. In a crisis, she was even willing to sacrifice herself.

He Feixian hadn’t noticed all that, but she had sensed that the manager wasn’t their enemy. That alone showed promise.

Su Shisan was pleased with her dedication. And when she was pleased—she paid.

“I’ve transferred 200 points for your living expenses this month. I’ve also unlocked the daily goods section in the store for you. Buy whatever you need.”

Two hundred points could go a long way for an NPC. System-supplied meals, clothes, shelter—even books and projectors—were all cheap.

It wasn’t much for a Builder, but for a rookie NPC with no income and no irreplaceable skills, it was more than generous.

Su Shisan gave it freely, because He Feixian was willing to learn—and that was more than enough.

She could also tell the girl cared about quality of life. Beauty required upkeep, after all.

And if she kept doing her job well, Su Shisan had no problem helping out a bit more.