Carter Murphy was engulfed by snow on December 7th of the 10th year, but he couldn't be sure if his arrival at the hotel had also been in the 10th year. Ti inside the hotel was relatively chaotic. He had seen Indians dressed in their native attire, soldiers in Third Reich German uniforms, and even individuals in astronaut suits who might have been performance artists or people from the future.
The hotel staff remained tight-lipped about inquiries regarding the current date. The guests, however, were far more enthusiastic. A guest staying next to him (a Portuguese man with a large beard) took him to a residents' committee consisting of hundreds of guests. He introduced Carter to so of the committee's circumstances and the rules for survival in the hotel.
Beyond adhering to the accommodation guidelines issued by the hotel staff, guests wishing to survive well had to follow a simple rule: see less, think less, and hear less. Regardless of any abnormal situations they encountered, they were to turn a blind eye and walk away. Only when their personal safety or living experience was directly affected should they notify hotel staff.
Since Carter Murphy had only stayed at the hotel for three days, he didn't possess much information. According to his own narration (he was silent for quite so ti at the typewriter), after he fell into a coma, his consciousness gradually beca vague. He felt as if he were dissolving, dispersing, forgetting ti and space.
In the midst of it all, he sensed sothing had invaded his territory. Subconsciously, he had the urge to observe and detect. A part of his blurry consciousness extended outward, residing within a glittering carrier (which was later observed to be that fountain pen). Carter Murphy's entire consciousness was in a chaotic state, as if numbed by an overdose of anesthesia. He responded instinctively to questions posed by the outside world (later observed to be the mule).
This continued until the other party inquired about the current ti. Carter Murphy's consciousness suddenly felt a surge of irritation and anger, and he subconsciously wanted to destroy and harm. This resulted in wounds appearing all over the mule's body, with blood continuously gushing out.
Later, Li Ang and the others arrived and began to persecute him. Strangely, the act of persecution didn't send him into a coma again. On the contrary, he gradually regained consciousness and was able to communicate normally. Correspondingly, Carter Murphy's consciousness, which had been dispersed throughout Room 0408, began to retract. Eventually, it settled on the typewriter, no longer able to fill the entire room as before.
As the only individual with clear consciousness Li Ang and the others had encountered since checking into the hotel, Carter Murphy's words contained a vast amount of information. Regrettably, he was unaware of the reason, nature, and operational thod behind the hotel's abnormalities. He was also unclear about the identities of the Bamboo Hat Ghost and the old woman in red.
Throughout the interrogation, besides the text typed out by the typewriter Carter Murphy's consciousness resided in, the Black Holy Son was also recording the conversation with pen and paper. He circled several points of doubt and was just about to inquire further when he heard an ethereal, deep voice say, "One less."
All the players present knew the voice ca from the Bamboo Hat figure. Oddly enough, Carter Murphy, who claid to know nothing about any Bamboo Hat, seed to fall into imnse fear. The entire typewriter began to tremble violently. In the players' Spiritual Senses, the black Energy sphere housed within the typewriter visibly dispersed at a rapid rate, vanishing from sight.
Li Ang asked the mule to stay inside Room 0408 and watch over the typewriter. anwhile, he and the Black Holy Son opened the room door and crossed the corridor. The Black Holy Son's black suitcase, previously left by the elevator door, hadn't been reset by the corridor's strange properties, so Li Ang and the Black Holy Son could directly enter the elevator lobby.
The two pressed the down button. The elevator reached the second floor, and the doors opened. Right in front of them were six slim figures wearing Bamboo Hats, crossing the corridor.
Upon closer observation, the oppressive aura emanating from the Bamboo Hat figures grew stronger. Even within the supposedly absolutely safe elevator lobby, the Black Holy Son still felt his breath freeze and his body grow stagnant, completely devoid of any fighting spirit.
The six Bamboo Hat figures in the corridor passed directly by the elevator entrance, turning right and proceeding down the second-floor hallway.
After a brief mont of shock, the Black Holy Son recovered. After hesitating for a mont, he still pressed the elevator button for the third floor.
And so, the two of them kept riding the elevator, following the footsteps of the Bamboo Hat figure as it ascended.
Third floor, fourth floor.
By the ti they reached the fifth floor, Li Ang acted first. He returned to Room 0508 before the Bamboo Hat figure arrived. The figure did not retaliate; it continued walking, mumbling "one less" from ti to ti, heading straight for the stairwell.
Li Ang went back to the elevator lobby with the Black Holy Son and continued observing. When they reached the eighth floor, the Bamboo Hat figure standing in the middle of the corridor suddenly stopped. It stood motionless for a while, then sank into the floor and vanished.
Li Ang and the Black Holy Son observed for a while longer. They communicated with 13mark, who lived on the eighth floor and had a bye that night, by passing notes on a scrap of paper. Afterward, they took the elevator to the ninth floor. There, they discovered the door to Room 0908 was open and its interior in disarray. Bob, the room's inhabitant, had vanished.
Bob was, most likely, dead.
As for the cause of death, Bai Haozheng was using Telekinetic Power to flip through the diary Bob had left behind. The diary was filthy, covered with bloodstains, hair, and unidentifiable substances. The writing at the beginning was relatively clear, but it grew ssier and more chaotic towards the end, becoming difficult to decipher.
Bai Haozheng said calmly, his expression impassive, "Bob spent at least six months—possibly a year, or even several years—in the Pitch Black Space. He tried to find a way out, but to no avail. His food quickly ran out, and his sanity gradually crumbled. Yet, he discovered that no matter how much damage his body sustained, he wouldn't die.
"Just as his consciousness was about to break down, he accidentally discovered his body could exert an extrely slight influence on the tal cabinet. He then began the long process of scraping it.
"However, by the ti he opened the cabinet and retrieved the slip of paper, he had already gone blind and couldn't read its contents.
"Thus, he fell into complete despair. After scrawling a large amount of nonsensical gibberish in his diary, there were no further entries.
"There are three points of doubt at present:
"First, his cause of death. The diary ntions he attempted suicide hundreds of tis yet couldn't end his life or sever his consciousness. Under such circumstances, how did he die?
"Second, did only his consciousness enter the Pitch Black Space, or did his entire being—consciousness included—enter? If it was the forr, why is his diary here? If it was the latter, where is his corpse? Was it moved, or did sothing else happen to it?
"Third, is his death related to the Bamboo Hat figure? Why did the Bamboo Hat figure, upon reaching the eighth floor, suddenly stop crying 'one less' and just vanish?"
Bai Haozheng posed his questions. The players present furrowed their brows in deep thought, remaining silent.
Ω raised his head, his voice raspy as he asked, "What was written on the piece of paper Bob found in the Pitch Black Space's tal cabinet?"
Bai Haozheng glanced at him and snapped his fingers. Invisible tendrils of Telekinetic Power coiled around the crumpled piece of paper on the table and passed it to Ω.
There, it bore two lines of text.
"If you had a button in front of you, and pressing it ant you would stay in a quiet space of pitch-dark nothingness for one hundred years, but upon erging, you would receive one billion in cash and completely lose all mories of the Pitch Black Space, would you press it?"
"What a joke? I'd fucking smash it!"
[Author's note: Thanks to @cherryChina for the gift of a keyboard; the tea shaft feels great, is crisp and pleasant to the ear without hurting the hands, and is good for both typing and gaming. The RGB lighting is quite dazzling. Thumbs up.]
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