Chapter 2: Curiosity Is A Sin

“I thought you weren’t coming.”

The psychologist who spoke was a woman with gentle features.

She gave off a calm, soothing presence.

Soft music flowed through the room, and her eyes carried a warm, encouraging kindness.

Every movement she made reflected solid professional training.

At that moment, the eyes hidden behind her glasses were fixed on the young man standing at the doorway.

About a year ago, she had taken him on as a patient.

As a high-priced private psychologist, she had encountered many strange clients over the years.

Yet this young man—beautiful to the point of seeming unreal—still ranked among the strangest.

Sometimes, when listening to his accounts… she even felt fear.

Patients with delusions were not uncommon.

But those who could describe impossible events with such vividness, naturalness, and bone-chilling realism were exceedingly rare.

Her gaze drifted to the computer screen.

The page was frozen on a series of eye-catching headlines.

《Photographer “Midnight” Leaves Midway — Another Marketing Scam?》

《Dissecting “Midnight’s” Works — Is He Even Human?!》

Below them were malicious speculations about Midnight’s appearance.

There were curses accusing his company of putting on airs.

Others claimed it was impossible for a photographer to remain completely anonymous for two years.

Some even suspected that “Midnight” didn’t exist at all—just a fabricated gimmick.

But the psychologist knew the truth.

The infamous “death god” photographer, Midnight—
was the pale young man standing before her.

“Wasn’t today your signing event?” she asked, doing her best to steady herself.

“……”

The air seemed to thin.

She realized she had made a mistake.

He disliked being questioned.

After several seconds of silence, Yu Ziyu spoke calmly.

“I ran into some trouble, so I left.”

He removed the scarf draped over his shoulders.

He slipped off his trench coat and placed it neatly over the chair back.

Then his slim figure sank into the armchair.

The chair was a size too large for him.

The space around him looked unusually empty, carrying with it a sharp, wintry chill.

His refined features appeared excessively cold in their indifference.

When his scrutinizing gaze fell on someone, anyone would instinctively shiver.

The psychologist’s instincts told her that, all along, he hadn’t viewed her as a doctor.

She was more like a trusted confessional.

A friend bound by absolute secrecy.

After all, they had signed a confidentiality agreement before treatment began.

“……”

Yu Ziyu glanced at her.

“We can begin now, Doctor.”

“Alright,” she replied, unconsciously shrinking back a little.

He exerted an overwhelming sense of pressure.

It made people afraid to question his words.

“Let’s continue our previous topic,” Yu Ziyu leaned forward.

He’s leading the conversation again.

The psychologist thought to herself that this was someone with an intense need for control.

If she wanted his trust, resistance was the worst option.

So she simply nodded and wisely chose silence.

“Continuing from last time… this also involves them,” Yu Ziyu said, impatience flickering between his brows.

“I told you before.

I used to work for a horror game called Hell Amusement Park.

There were six very annoying colleagues.

We each had different roles.

You can think of me as ‘Pride.’

They were the rest.”

Hell.

The Seven Deadly Sins.

Pride.

She repeated the words silently.

Pride was… fitting.

That was precisely the impression Yu Ziyu gave.

It wasn’t that he looked down on others.

Rather, there was something fundamentally incompatible about him.

An odd aura that clashed with his surroundings.

If you placed Yu Ziyu on a crowded street, everyone’s eyes would land on him instantly.

He stood out far too much.

“They enjoyed killing, designing puzzles, and torturing sinful players in the park,” Yu Ziyu said flatly.

“In short, boring things I never cared to do.”

His fingers tapped the tabletop.

His brow furrowed.

“Then one day, I decided to quit.

So I found a way to leave.”

“And… what way was that?” she asked.

“I used a player’s clearance,” he answered succinctly.

Then he leaned back.

“Back to the point.

I realized today that they’ve come looking for me.”

The monster hidden inside the photograph was the handiwork of the Jealousy layer.

To understand Hell Amusement Park, one had to mention its game structure.

Each layer had a boss.

Each layer revolved around a single core concept.

The first layer was Jealousy.

Brothers killing siblings out of jealousy.

Friends murdering friends.

Mothers killing children for stealing a husband’s attention.

Its boss was born from tragedy fueled by jealousy.

Using the word itself to represent that boss was entirely appropriate.

That monster’s dependence on Yu Ziyu—its worship—had long turned pathological.

It grew jealous of any being that could speak with him.

Its constant presence, its gaze, its relentless following disgusted Yu Ziyu.

But it was also, undeniably, the monster that understood him best.

So if the others had escaped as well, it was no surprise that this one found Yu Ziyu first.

Today, Yu Ziyu had destroyed the photograph and deliberately concealed his whereabouts.

They were likely headless flies once again.

Yet the mere thought of them searching for him—yearning for his return—soured his mood instantly.

“Them?” the psychologist asked.

“About six,” Yu Ziyu replied lazily.

Listen to that.

As if without him, they’d collapse completely.

“Why are they looking for you?”

“Probably because Hell needs a leader,” he said listlessly, slumping over the table.

“Without one, the game loses its rules and falls into chaos.”

Unfortunately, as the former final boss of the seventh layer, Yu Ziyu was their leader.

He was the game’s bloodiest legend.

Those brainless aberrations unanimously—and naturally—regarded him as the King of Hell.

They were loyal to the game.

And to Yu Ziyu’s knowledge, only one player had ever cleared it.

With the game in chaos, the remaining players likely returned to reality.

That caused him a minor inconvenience.

Still, if they didn’t want to be labeled insane, they’d be wise to take the secret to their graves.

Judging by numbers alone, psychiatric hospitals would likely see a spike in admissions.

“You’re thinking deeply,” the psychologist said.

Yu Ziyu lifted his head.

For an instant, she saw a flash of crimson in his pitch-black eyes.

It vanished so quickly it might have been an illusion.

When she looked again, his gaze was bottomless.

Like staring into an abyss that could swallow a soul whole.

“What are you looking at?” he asked coldly.

She hurriedly looked away.

She didn’t even know what she feared—only that her instincts screamed danger.

“……”

He stared at her.

“We should talk about something professional,” Yu Ziyu said after a moment.

The topic was brushed aside lightly.

She let out a quiet breath of relief and didn’t dare meet his eyes again.

“Then… does this trouble you?” she asked.

“Obviously,” Yu Ziyu sneered.

He slipped his hands into the deep pockets of his trench coat and sat upright.

“Who would want to go back?

Back to splattered blood and scattered limbs, playing ‘King of Hell’ for a bunch of monsters?”

No games.

No novels.

Not even sunlight.

That was a prisoner’s life.

And he refused to associate with monsters—
even if he was one of them.

Go back?

Not a chance.

“What will you do?” the psychologist asked, forcing calm into her voice.

“If they don’t bother me, I’ll pretend I didn’t see them,” Yu Ziyu said coolly.

“But if they cross the line… I’ll personally send them back.”

This wasn’t kindness.

Nor was it siding with humanity.

He simply despised chaos—even when caused by his own kind.

His voice carried a faint blood-soaked edge.

The room fell silent for a long moment.

Yu Ziyu was satisfied.

The psychologist knew her role.

She was merely a listener.

“Talking with you is pleasant.”

Yu Ziyu stood up and picked up his scarf and coat.

He’d finished dumping his emotional trash.

Talking really did reduce irritation.

He didn’t look at her expression.

He opened the door and strode out, self-assured and unrestrained.

At that moment, she noticed a pale, narrow shadow crawling along the wall—like a venomous snake.

It felt like some sort of pet.

A servant.

Something obedient and useful.

The sight sent a chill through her.

She tried to look away.

But it was like being dragged into a whirlpool.

Dizziness washed over her.

She couldn’t resist that unknown pull.

“……”

Yu Ziyu paused.

The door stopped mid-swing.

He turned back, one hand braced against the frame, and said lazily,

“Too much curiosity is rarely a good thing.”

In Hell Amusement Park, countless sensitive players had gone insane after witnessing the incomprehensible and the unnameable.

As for Yu Ziyu’s true form—even a glimpse would drive any human mad.

It seemed this doctor had some potential.

He studied her with interest, as if seeing her for the first time.

Though his tone remained cool, it struck her like a blow.

She snapped out of her daze.

Only then did she realize she was drenched in cold sweat.

Her clothes clung to her skin.

It felt as though she had nearly been trapped in something unfathomable.

If not for Yu Ziyu…

Fear lingered.

So did confusion.

“Be careful, Doctor Chen,” Yu Ziyu said calmly.

“Think too much, and you’ll end up insane.”

Her body stiffened.

“That’s not my surname…

My name is Li…”

They’d maintained a doctor–patient relationship for over a year.

And he didn’t even remember her name?

“……”

After a pause, Yu Ziyu spoke without the slightest apology.

“Alright, Doctor Zhang.”

“…..”