Huh, this hair and eyes...
Annan acutely noticed the heterochromic eyes of Amos, one green and one blue, like a Persian cat.
Could it be that, in this level, Amos has already obtained part of Elle’s body?
Annan imdiately realized that the tiline of this replica must be in disarray.
The ti here should be after June but before November.
Annan also rembered that, in Amos’s basent, aside from that bottle of wine brewed from dead fetuses, there were also many skeletons. Most of these skeletons ca from "missing vagrants."
—That is the role Jiu’er is currently playing.
Unexpectedly, this theoretically simpler and more orderly second layer of the nightmare actually has a tiline that’s later than the third layer...
...but that’s also the case.
The negative first layer nightmare entered from the first layer even had an ending.
Speaking in terms of the tiline, it’s the most recent...it didn’t even enter a mory but was directly caught up by Big Hamr Bro and hit out with a GG.
Unfortunately, Jiu’er didn’t receive this information when she entered the nightmare.
Otherwise, she would have realized right away whom she was impersonating—
[You have entered the gallery: Feast of the Famished (second layer)]
[Main mission: Play the role of the vagrant "Aie"]
Imdiately following this line, a large amount of small text quickly erged:
[Complete the portrait]
[et the other three vagrants]
[At least one person must survive until nightfall]
What does this an?
Seeing the side mission "At least one person must survive until nightfall," Jiu’er shivered internally.
She instinctively looked up.
Judging from the brilliance of the daylight, it was approximately noon.
Because her identity was that of a vagrant, Jiu’er couldn’t tell right away whether her hunger stemd from skipping lunch or from not having eaten properly for several als, so she couldn’t determine the approximate ti.
The painter Amos in front of her showed an elegant and composed smile, extending his hand to her: "If you help with a painting, I will invite you to take a hot bath, provide you with clean clothing, and take care of your food for three days... How about that?"
In all fairness, these were indeed very generous conditions...
—If he wasn’t up to so mischief.
"But, but... sir..."
Jiu’er imitated the tone of a vagrant, stamring, "I can’t paint..."
"No, no, no. I don’t need you to paint. You just need to stand in front of the canvas, and wait for to paint your portrait... It’s very quick, about—hmm, two hours."
Amos took out his pocket watch to check the ti, then revealed a refreshing smile: "Can you stand still for two hours? It’s one thirty now... until three thirty will be sufficient."
Jiu’er’s heart sank slightly.
Painted until three thirty...
There were only about two and a half hours left until dark.
Which ant she would most likely miss dinner...
Starting from the completion of the portrait, the following two hours were probably going to be a fierce battle for survival.
Jiu’er’s thoughts spun quickly, but she responded promptly, nodding ekly and saying, "Of course, sir..."
She followed Amos, with him guiding her by the shoulder, into the nearby gallery.
It was a rather large and stately art museum that Amos had rented or bought.
But Jiu’er, upon seeing the interior decor of the gallery, almost had a PTSD attack:
Because this gallery was decorated exactly the sa as the one she had just walked through!
The only difference was that on both sides of the circular gallery, there indeed were two winding staircases leading upward... and at the end of the gallery—where players usually enter the next level—that door apparently pointed towards the exit.
Jiu’er’s mind stirred.
Could it be... Amos actually wanted to escape the gallery?
Fortunately, unlike the nearly eerie silence and darkness of the nightmare gallery.
This place was not only brightly lit but even had so elegantly dressed guests coming and going, pausing in front of so of the portraits.
They saw Amos entering with a sowhat sour and stinking holess man, but they were not at all surprised; they rely greeted Amos with warmth:
"Master Amos!"
"Master, good afternoon!"
"May the Silver Baron bless you, Sir Morrison."
Amos simply smiled and greeted them back, "Hmm, hello everyone."
He stood tall, his smile graceful and composed, as if he was radiating a confident glow, dazzling and brilliant. The mont he appeared, he beca the focus of the entire room.
He even seed...not quite human.
If he were to appear alongside other painters, people would likely notice Amos first; even those who did not know him would realize upon one glance that he was an exceedingly distinguished guest.
The strong aura of confidence he exuded was like that of a superstar always surrounded by fans.
Compared to the kind and approachable father figure painting Elle in the third layer of dream, he seed almost like a completely different person...
After leaving the crowd, Amos asked Jiu’er in a gentle tone, "You haven’t been wandering outside for long, have you?"
Jiu’er was startled and almost shivered.
She forced herself to calm down and tried to look frightened and anxious, "How...how did you know?"
"Because I see hope in your eyes," Amos recited with a poet’s cadence, "such beautiful light... It doesn’t appear in the eyes of those who have completely lost hope in life."
Looking at the sowhat bewildered Jiu’er, he explained with a slight smile, "You’re curious about my guests, wanting to uncover their identities, you want to see the content of the paintings I have on the walls.
"This ans you still have hope for this world. Truly hopeless people...they don’t care about anything anymore."
With that, Amos let out a soft sigh.
He looked up lancholically, his gaze directed toward so unknown place.
His eyes were profound, his heterochromatic pupils seemingly exuding an enchantingly demonic allure.
Or perhaps...that was not an illusion.
They continued on to the fourth floor, which finally had no visitors—it seed not to be open to the public. There was an iron door between the third and fourth floor, which required a key to open.
This fourth floor should be Amos’s studio. But it looked more like a lavishly decorated living room than a studio.
Inside, the floor was covered with a rather luxurious carpet, there were many soft couches and wooden furniture with warm tones. There were also so toys lying lonely in the corners of the room, but no children played with them.
And next to a tea table in the hall, three n in white robes and slightly long hair sat chatting softly, their expressions sowhat restrained.
They looked at Jiu’er and their faces lit up with joy. A younger man even waved at Jiu’er.
"They’re friends who ca to help paint before you did," Amos said following Jiu’er’s gaze, "This is a big project of mine... the Feast of the Famished."
As he spoke, Amos walked to the wall and drew apart the heavy red cloth on either side.
Many huge fras were mounted on the wall.
The paintings depicted n in tattered clothes with dry complexions, their hungry eyes slightly greenish. They looked out of the paintings in various poses... so lay on the ground, so were curled in corners, so were hunchbacked, straining their necks to peer forward, and so sat like dogs.
One glance was all it took.
They were all holess n.
And among the paintings... three of them portrayed n who looked exactly like the three n in white robes chatting nearby.
Just seeing these paintings made the three n shudder involuntarily and turn their heads away, unable to bear looking at their own portraits.
Jiu’er felt montarily suffocated.
The people in the paintings weren’t beautiful, but they gave her an unforgettable visual impact...
Even the comnts went silent for an instant.
These seed not so much like paintings, but as if they were frozen souls.
When Jiu’er first saw them, she even thought they were huge windows...and those people were peering at her from mismatched spaces outside the windows. It was as if she had shrunk, being stared at and sized up by giants beyond countless panes of glass.
Just looking at them was enough to feel an unmistakable terror.
She even had the fleeting sensation that these people were slightly shifting, silently wailing, slobbering with hunger as they stared at her.
Alive, in a sense.
Like famished demons—
[Erosion Level: 3%]
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