Chapter 1 The 24th of November, 1990

The calendar on the wall showed the date was November 24th, 1990. Feng Bujue found himself in a company that produced electronic equipment, considered a large enterprise in the town, but still far behind those in the big cities.

Before Feng Bujue began his investigation, he habitually felt his pockets, and the three keys reappeared, which likely meant he would soon need this item.

As someone living in the 2050s, with a computer in front of him, his first instinct was to turn it on. And then… nothing happened. Staring at the black screen with the blinking cursor, Feng Bujue, who knew next to nothing about DOS, was completely dumbfounded.

Helpless, he began to sift through the paper documents on the desk. After twenty minutes, he was fairly certain they were all useless scraps. He then went through the desk drawers one by one, and as expected, one of them was locked. He took out his keys to try, and sure enough, one of them fit.

After opening the drawer, Feng Bujue saw a large envelope, bulging with contents. Beneath the large envelope was a smaller one, with the words "Resignation Letter" written on it.

Feng Bujue furtively looked around, then opened both envelopes and read their contents. The large envelope contained Hirata Shuichi's resume. This guy was actually a graduate of Kyoto University. No wonder he was able to become a deputy minister before the age of thirty. He really didn't know why he came to this small town to develop his career.

The small envelope, naturally, contained the resignation letter. Feng Bujue also took a look and understood the situation somewhat. This Hirata was a good person. He wanted to retain as many employees with difficult family situations as possible, while he himself was already resolved to resign.

After reading, Feng Bujue put everything back, relocked the drawer, and went to the restroom.

The reason he hid in the restroom stall was because he planned to use [Decisive Victory a Thousand Li Away] again. He didn't want to use it in the crowded office. If that splitting headache came again, and he suddenly fell off his chair and clutched his head on the ground, it could cause a commotion.

Taking a deep breath, Feng Bujue activated his title skill. The result was the same as the last time he used it. An excruciating pain erupted in his skull, and he still didn't see any Boss data, only his own face flashing before his eyes. The face was the same as the last time he saw it, expressionless, eyes wide open, but without any spirit.

As Feng Bujue was holding his head, gradually recovering from the dizziness and headache, he heard the restroom door open. Judging from the footsteps, two people had entered.

The two walked to the urinals, relieving themselves while chatting idly.

"Hey… you saw it at the stairwell just now, right?"

"Ah, yeah, that scum of a Minister is getting bolder and bolder."

"Shh! Be careful someone overhears…"

"Tch… so what if they hear? I'm already fed up with this job. That bastard Fukui, isn't he entirely responsible for the company becoming like this?" The man spat and said angrily, "Always making stupid decisions, but shifting the responsibility onto others. It's said that he's been embezzling public funds for more than just a day or two. The company is facing bankruptcy, yet he's doing well, and bought that luxurious Western-style house a few days ago and moved in… Because of such parasites, everyone will lose their jobs."

"Alas… even if we know, what can us bottom-level employees do?"

The two had now arrived at the sink. After washing their hands, the sound of a lighter flicked, and they each lit a cigarette. One of them continued, "The most pitiful is Hirata-kun, always having to clean up that bastard's mess. Having Hirata be responsible for layoffs and making enemies of people, that's probably his idea too."

"Truly, good people don't get rewarded. I also heard that Hirata's house was in the area that was hit hardest by the last typhoon. Now he and his wife have to move to the longhouse in 3-chome."

"Huh? Can anyone live in that place?"

"Who says otherwise?" The man exhaled smoke. "But to say who's the unluckiest, it's still his wife cheating on him behind his back, right?"

"Yeah, so blatantly flirting with the Minister in the stairwell, even bystanders like us can't stand it anymore." The other man also exhaled smoke. "It's said that a few years ago, Hirata-kun gave up a great career in Tokyo and specifically returned to his hometown to take care of Chizuko. Back then, Chizuko was able to get a job at this company thanks to Hirata-kun begging people everywhere. Now that woman is hooking up with that scum Minister every day for money, doing such dirty things right under her husband's nose. It's disgusting."

Feng Bujue was shocked by the dialogue of these two NPCs. This script was definitely destroying his values. Hirata Shuichi was more than just a tragedy… His house was destroyed by a typhoon, his wife was sleeping with a scumbag, his job was about to disappear, he didn't seem to have much money, he gave up a great career and youth but didn't get anything in return, and he was haunted by ghosts and monsters every day. This kind of guy should just end it all early.

"Hey… it sounds like someone's in that stall." The two suddenly lowered their voices.

"Did they hear us… I wonder who's inside…"

"Crap… when I passed by the office just now, it didn't seem like Hirata-kun was at his seat. Could it be…"

The voices of the two gradually became too low for Feng Bujue to hear.

He was still considering how to get out of this situation… Unexpectedly, the problem was directly resolved because Feng Bujue once again lost control of his body.

"No way! Again?" Feng Bujue thought. "Don't tell me this script has four or more main storylines! Will this ever end?"

The answer was, yes, and it had already ended.

This time, even the system voice didn't sound, and the scenery in front of Feng Bujue didn't turn into a CG, but into a projection on a wall. In that second, he was already in a room made of cement walls, with no windows, and the door was not in his line of sight.

When he came to his senses, he found that he could suddenly see colors, and the clicking sound in his ears gradually became clear.

At this moment, Feng Bujue was wearing a straitjacket for mental patients, his hands crossed horizontally in front of his chest. His sleeves had no cuffs and were wrapped around his body, connected behind him. His neck, waist, legs, and ankles were tightly bound by specially made leather straps, fixing his body to a chair. He could only maintain a sitting posture, and even swaying left and right was difficult.

And what made him most uncomfortable was that his eyelids were fixed to his eye sockets with tape, preventing him from closing them. At this moment, he only felt that his eyes were dry and extremely uncomfortable.

The clicking sound was coming from a small projector on a table to his side and rear. This device was aimed at the wall in front of Feng Bujue, projecting images taken from black and white negatives. The last image was of the restroom from earlier.

Snap, snap.

Someone reached out and snapped their fingers twice in front of Feng Bujue's eyes. Feng Bujue turned his eyeballs and saw a man in his thirties, wearing an old-fashioned checkered suit. The suit looked very formal, but the workmanship and material were obviously very exquisite, indicating that it was expensive.

The man wore black-rimmed glasses and had a conventional hairstyle. He had ordinary looks and a kind expression, but at this moment, his gaze towards Feng Bujue was somewhat questioning.

"Hirata-kun, are you alright?" the man asked.

"Who are you?" Feng Bujue replied.

The man's expression changed slightly. He took out a miniature flashlight from his pocket, shone it into Feng Bujue's eyeballs, and observed closely.

Feng Bujue's eyes became even more uncomfortable from the light: "Hey! Don't do that! It's too dazzling. Who the hell are you? A doctor?"

"I am Doctor Watanabe. Don't you remember me?" the man asked.

"How did I get here? What's going on?" Feng Bujue asked.

"I told you, Doctor, you're wasting your time." Another voice came from behind Feng Bujue, from his blind spot, but the owner of the voice quickly came forward.

The man was about fifty years old, with graying temples, a fierce and decisive face, wearing a trench coat, and holding a half-smoked cigarette in his hand.

"Inspector Tachibana, please don't interrupt me. This is important right now," Watanabe said.

"Tch…" Tachibana unhappily extinguished his cigarette, put his hands in his pockets, and stared intently at Feng Bujue, or rather, glared at Hirata Shuichi.

"Do you remember anything? Hirata-kun," Watanabe asked.

"I…" Feng Bujue didn't know how to answer. What he could currently confirm was that the three stories he had just experienced were all Hirata Shuichi's memories. He decided to tell the truth and see what information this NPC would give him. "I was walking home and encountered the Slit-Mouthed Woman…"

As soon as he spoke, Tachibana beside him shouted angrily, "Bastard! Are you going to keep this up?" As he said this, he was about to grab Feng Bujue's hair, but fortunately, Doctor Watanabe stopped him.

"Inspector, calm down!" Watanabe stopped him.

"Inspector…" Feng Bujue had been thinking about the situation in front of him since earlier. At this moment, he had a bold conjecture. "Did I kill someone?"

"Did you kill someone?" Tachibana repeated his words, then sneered, then laughed loudly. "You finally confessed, huh? I thought you were going to deny it to the end."

"Doctor Watanabe, are you a psychiatrist?" Feng Bujue turned his head and asked.

"Yes, I am," Watanabe replied.

"Then you must know about multiple personality disorder, right?"

Watanabe hesitated for a moment and replied, "Of course, I know."

"What does that mean? This kid wants to feign madness to escape punishment and is even playing new tricks?" Tachibana exclaimed, his anger seemingly about to set his hair on fire.

Feng Bujue ignored him and said to himself, "I am not Hirata Shuichi."