Wang Shun was working furiously on the team's pre-season profile when the door to his office slammed open.
A disfigured figure wrapped in tangled wire mesh and layers of handcuffs staggered in, stumbled a few steps, and then collapsed onto the couch directly opposite him.
Wang Shun nearly jumped out of his seat.
The barely humanoid mass slowly raised a trembling hand. At least eight or nine handcuffs and three or four layers of wire mesh dangled from it.
In a weak voice, it said, "... It's me. Mu Sicheng."
Wang Shun stared. "What… happened to you?"
"Unfortunately, I ran into a busybody." Mu Sicheng struggled to peel the wire mesh off his face.
But the mesh was strangely elastic and adhesive. Instead of coming off, it snapped back into place.
His voice grew more depressed. "... It was that Armand from Golden Dawn. He developed this anti-thief contraption specifically for me."
"So he's the one who did this to you?" Wang Shun asked, already lowering his head to search through his files for information on Armand.
Pushing up his glasses, he skimmed the data and said, "You can't really be blamed for falling into his hands. He used to be part of a special organization responsible for guarding valuable and dangerous items. He became deputy captain at a young age."
Wang Shun looked up at Mu Sicheng.
"—He's said to specialize in catching thieves."
Mu Sicheng snorted. "I've seen plenty of people who claim they specialize in catching thieves. Not many of them can actually stand up to me."
Wang Shun silently gestured at Mu Sicheng's current "outfit."
Mu Sicheng followed his gaze. His expression darkened further as he shook the handcuffs hanging from his arms.
"It's not the same," he said, frowning. "This Armand gives me the feeling that he knows me extremely well."
"He knows my attack patterns, my habits, how my skills chain together. He was countering me before I even moved." Mu Sicheng paused. "He even knows something—something only I know. Something I've never told anyone."
"It's like he's known me for a long time. Like he knows me better than I know myself…"
The more he spoke, the more irritable he became, yanking at the wire mesh tangled in his hair.
"Damn it. Just thinking about having to play against someone like that makes me furious!"
Suddenly, he turned toward Wang Shun.
"Don't you dare use your [Know-it-all] skill on me right now!"
Wang Shun raised both hands to show he wasn't holding a pen or paper.
"I wouldn't do that to my own teammates," he said helplessly.
Mu Sicheng gave him a half-suspicious glare before slumping back against the sofa, legs spread, one hand propping up his chin.
"Hey, Wang Shun. Do you know anyone with a skill that lets them spy on other people's memories? Like yours."
He frowned thoughtfully. "When I met this Armand guy, he said he hadn't seen me in ages. If I hadn't clearly remembered that I'd only met him once, I might've believed him."
Wang Shun hesitated. "Not that I know of."
There were props capable of creating shared-memory effects—he remembered the Deer Hunter had one—but that was different from the kind of memory voyeurism Mu Sicheng was describing.
"Tch." Mu Sicheng stood and waved a hand dismissively. "Useless."
He turned to leave—but after taking two steps, he tripped over the tangled ankle cuffs and wire mesh wrapped around his legs. He fell straight to his knees in the doorway.
Enraged, he pointed at the pile of restraints and began cursing at them.
Wang Shun: "..."
He pressed a hand to his forehead and sighed.
"Just sit properly on the couch and let me get this mess off you first."
Wang Shun fetched scissors and pliers. He managed to cut away some of the wire mesh, but the handcuffs wouldn't budge.
Finally, he sighed again. "We'll have to wait for Bai Liu. He has forged magma for weapons—he might be able to refine this thing off you."
Mu Sicheng took a deep breath, clearly on the verge of exploding—
—but someone screamed before he could.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
Du Sanying burst into the office, eyes spiraling like fried eggs, dragging Mu Ke behind him. Mu Ke's head lolled limply, blood staining his hair.
"Help…!"
Wang Shun nearly had a heart attack for the second time that day.
"What happened now?!"
Du Sanying pointed frantically at Mu Ke, so frightened he could barely form words.
"He—he ran into a lunatic who shot at him! But I had full luck, so the lunatic couldn't hit either of us!"
Wang Shun blinked. "If neither of you were hit, why does Mu Ke look like that?"
At that, Du Sanying finally broke down completely. He squealed like a groundhog, flailing his hands.
"The guy realized he couldn't snipe us and said something like, 'Since he chose you to stand by his side, you'll exist behind him for now as a fake carrying my memories. One day I'll reclaim the place that belongs to me.'"
"Then he used some strange prop on Mu Ke! He said he'd implanted his memories into Mu Ke's head—and then he left!"
"Mu Ke went crazy after that! He started slashing monsters nonstop. He killed so many before he regained a bit of sanity and agreed to leave the game with me. But as soon as we exited, he passed out!"
Du Sanying's eyes filled with tears.
"... He looked terrifying in the game."
"The game pool can be exited anytime," Mu Sicheng said flatly. He walked over and hauled Mu Ke upright by the ankle cuffs still attached to himself. "Why did Mu Ke stay and waste time with a lunatic?"
"There was a reason," Du Sanying whispered, swallowing nervously.
"Because that man said he was Bai Liu's son…"
Mu Sicheng: "..."
Wang Shun sucked in a sharp breath.
Mu Sicheng completely lost it.
"?!?!? What the hell?!"
-----------------
In-game.
Bai Liu, completely unaware that he had apparently acquired a "son," sat on the bed. He watched expressionlessly as Spades, seated on the floor, dressed the wound on his chest. Bai Liu idly rubbed his fingers over the muzzle of the gun resting in his arms.
…That man had bled so much, yet nothing seemed wrong. He recovered far too quickly.
Spades suddenly straightened, frowning. He sensed an unpleasant killing intent directed at him.
From Bai Liu's angle, Spades' waist and back were lean and firm—not exaggeratedly muscular, but built in a well-proportioned, powerful way. The muscles shifted smoothly beneath cold white skin as he lifted his arms to finish wrapping the bandage, creating a kind of restrained, fluid strength.
Spades seemed to notice Bai Liu's gaze and glanced back at him questioningly.
Bai Liu looked away almost imperceptibly. He paused his idle caress of the gun barrel and said abruptly, "You're in good shape. No wonder you're so popular."
Spades blinked slowly. "?"
He didn't understand the connection.
But he could clearly tell that Bai Liu was not in a good mood.
To avoid provoking him further, Spades chose the safest option—agreement. He nodded and gave a cooperative "Oh."
Bai Liu's smile curved again, faintly mischievous.
"So that's how Mr. Spades, last year's number one, climbed to the top. I've truly been ignorant."
Spades: "..."
He had a strong feeling he'd answered incorrectly.
Before he could attempt to correct himself, a faint rustling came from the jungle outside.
In an instant, Spades gathered his props. The whip flashed out and snapped back into his hand. With swift precision, he pulled Bai Liu into his arms, ducked under the bed, and dragged two medical supply boxes in front of them as cover.
"My teammates are here," Spades said, wrapping—more accurately clamping—his arms around Bai Liu's waist from behind. "If they think I've hurt you again, I'll be punished."
There was blood on the floor. The room clearly showed signs of a fight. Given Spades' usual reputation, he would be convicted as the guilty party without question.
"Sorry. Cooperate with me for now."
He tightened his hold.
In his haste, Spades hadn't bothered to put his clothes back on.
His entire upper body was pressed against Bai Liu's back, damp from the hot, humid jungle air. Solid abdominal and chest muscles rested against Bai Liu's shoulder blades and spine—firm, steady, and undeniably warm.
Completely unselfconscious, Spades seemed afraid Bai Liu would slip away. He tightened his hold further, even wedging his thigh between Bai Liu's legs to lock him in place.
This was far too close.
Ever since they'd shared a bed in the orphanage years ago, Bai Liu hadn't been in such intimate physical contact with him.
Completely different from when he was a child.
Stronger. Larger. Far more imposing.
Bai Liu tilted his neck forward, trying to create distance. His breathing grew heavier.
"…I'm not going to run. Loosen up."
"I don't believe you." Spades' voice was calm.
His palm slid from the nape of Bai Liu's neck to the hollow of his throat, gripping his jaw and pressing his face against his own shoulder to prevent movement.
"You're clever. You'd use any small prop to escape control," Spades said seriously. "I've watched your videos. You might hide something on your body."
He didn't want complications. Being discovered in a standoff with a strategist like Bai Liu would only make matters worse.
Bai Liu had no intention of escaping. But being restrained so forcefully triggered an instinctive resistance. He struggled several times, but Spades' strength far surpassed his own.
His eyes reddened slightly.
His breathing grew uneven. When he finally spoke, his voice was low—almost amused.
"If I really wanted to hide something… could you even find it?"
Spades misunderstood.
He hesitated briefly, then offered a stiff, polite apology—the kind the Reverse God had taught him to give when doing something wrong.
Unfortunately, the Reverse Godhad probably did not anticipate that Spades would apologize while continuing the wrongdoing.
For example, now.
Without hesitation, Spades slid his hand inside Bai Liu's damp shirt.
Bai Liu's pupils contracted. He immediately drove a sharp elbow backward. Spades caught his arm and pinned it down effortlessly, continuing his search with clinical seriousness.
At such close proximity, with such a disparity in strength, Bai Liu found it nearly impossible to resist.
Spades' palms carried a thin layer of calluses, the marks of someone who had wielded a whip for years.
The friction against Bai Liu's skin left it flushed. He arched slightly, breath hitching as he lowered his head. His thin shoulder blades trembled.
After a moment, Spades withdrew his hand.
Finding nothing, he looked at Bai Liu—who was curled tightly in his arms—and, out of what might have been guilt, added, "Sorry."
Bai Liu kept his head bowed and didn't respond. His breathing remained quick and uneven.
Spades could hear his racing heartbeat. He sensed a strange emotional current—anger, yes, but something more complicated layered beneath it.
"Are you still angry about before?" Spades asked, attempting what he believed was reassurance.
Then he added, choosing what he thought was a safer topic, "I'm out of shape."
There was a long silence.
Spades half-expected Bai Liu to shoot him.
Instead, Bai Liu slowly steadied his breathing. When he finally spoke, his tone carried a soft, meaningful chuckle. "No. You're in excellent shape."
A pause.
"I like it."