Muse

The man's hair was neatly tied at the back of his head, and his gray eyes hid beneath lashes of the same color, shimmering with an elegant luster in the lamplight. His features were sharply chiseled, exuding politeness and aloofness, resembling a classical marble sculpture.

It was completely unexpected that those words had just come out of his mouth.

The "Integrity First" live broadcast room fell into a momentary silence.

[…]

[…?]

[???]

[Is this-is this what I understand it to be?!]

[No. 04, you??? You-you-you, what are you trying to do?!!!]

[Huh? I've seen the Ping An Asylum instance many times, but I didn't know that No. 04 had this preference!]

[I can't understand, but I'm deeply shocked…]

Wen Jianyan: "…"

His brow twitched, he clenched his teeth, and a faint smile appeared on his lips. "However, after taking a closer look, I found that these clothes actually suit my aesthetic."

In the "Integrity First" live broadcast room:

[Hahahahaha, I can almost hear the anchor grinding his teeth—so hilarious!]

[Adaptable and flexible, as expected of you!]

[Am I the only one getting excited?! Can I finally see what I, a paying audience member, should be seeing next?! (50 reward points)]

[Thank you, No. 04! (50 reward points)]

"Do you like it? It's truly my honor."

After hearing Wen Jianyan's response, No. 04's face displayed a happy expression.

He approached step by step.

Wen Jianyan's body instinctively tensed up, and his eyes fixed firmly on the approaching high-risk patient.

Soon, the distance between the two was mere inches, and Wen Jianyan could almost smell the cold, slightly bitter fragrance emanating from the other person.

The man raised the young man's hand hanging by his side and gently kissed the back of it.

"Since that's the case, I won't disturb you while you change."

He slowly raised his eyes, gazing at the young man before him with his misty gray eyes and smiling. He said:

"I'll be waiting for you in the restaurant."

With that, as if a polite gentleman awaiting a date, No. 04 released his hand and confidently walked out.

With a soft click, the door locked.

No. 04 left the room.

"…"

Alone in the room, Wen Jianyan couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief, and his body gradually relaxed.

He lowered his eyes, wearing a thoughtful expression.

It seems that the high-risk patients who invaded No. 03's mental world were not limited to just Edward; No. 04 had also taken advantage of the situation, leading to the current situation.

Speaking of which, the duration of this inner-world experience seems to be getting a bit too long.

Wen Jianyan opened the live broadcast interface and glanced at the displayed broadcasting time, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

After the first chime, the inner world lasted for about ten minutes, and after the second chime, it was roughly similar in duration to the first time. However, the third chime, which is the current one, had already been going on for over forty minutes, and there were no signs of it ending.

Could it be that as the instance progresses, the duration of the inner-world experience will keep getting longer?

That would not be good at all.

Realizing this, Wen Jianyan became even more determined in his thoughts.

To survive in this instance, apart from attempting to achieve the platinum achievement, there was no other way.

Wen Jianyan glanced at the task list on the edge of his field of vision.

[Elementary Task Release: Find the ???'s Ward]

He didn't look at the open wardrobe any further but went straight to the closed door, tentatively reaching for the doorknob.

With a creak, the door opened.

It was not actually locked.

So, there was only one possibility here—the other party didn't mind if he tried to escape.

Either they believed they had enough control over their own mental world, thinking he couldn't leave no matter where he went, or they had different plans.

Neither option sounded particularly good.

Wen Jianyan opened his backpack and sorted the items he currently had on hand.

He wasn't the type to obediently follow orders, sit, and wait to be killed. Putting on the clothes and going on a "date" with the other party might be the safer option, but before making that choice, Wen Jianyan had to figure out the potential situations he might face next.

He turned the doorknob and quietly slipped out.

The corridor before him was long and well-lit, with thick carpets on the floor. The walls on both sides had classical-patterned wallpaper, and wall lamps cast their light in the direction of the distance.

A melodious tune filled the air.

Lively and ethereal.

Wen Jianyan didn't have a deep understanding of classical music, just a cursory familiarity, but he could barely recognize that this seemed to be a variation by Schubert.

He cautiously proceeded down the corridor.

This place now seemed entirely unrelated to the Ping An Asylum. Instead, it resembled an old mansion, with closed doors lining the hallway and extending into the distance.

Wen Jianyan spotted a spiral staircase descending, and the gradually clearer music was coming from below.

He carefully bypassed the stairs and, after confirming that No. 04 wasn't on this floor, activated "Hand of Guidance." If his previous guess was correct, No. 04's ward should also have a hidden item, which meant that finding this hidden item with "Hand of Guidance" would essentially lead him to the core area of the mental world—the patient's ward.

The familiar red arrow guided his vision.

Wen Jianyan followed the guidance of the "Hand of Guidance."

Unlike what he had imagined, the terrain on this floor was quite complex, resembling a spider's web. However, no matter where he went, the music seemed to linger in his ears, as if reminding him, "You have never gone far away."

Soon, the red arrow pointed toward one of the closed doors.

Wen Jianyan tried to turn the doorknob.

It was locked.

A hint of a smile grazed his lips.

Good, a locked door.

This meant that the owner of the mental world didn't want what was inside the room to be seen by others.

Wen Jianyan skillfully pulled out a lockpick and inserted it into the keyhole, gently turning it. Soon, with a click, the door began to slide open little by little.

Unexpectedly, what appeared in front of him was yet another corridor.

The corridor wasn't very long, with many rooms on both sides.

The doors behind him closed, leaving the melodious music behind.

The sudden silence made Wen Jianyan somewhat uncomfortable. He took a deep breath and stepped forward.

In the "Integrity First" live broadcast room:

[Help, help! I'm so nervous!]

[Can someone explain this? I really don't understand No. 04!]

[To be honest, even though I've watched so many of Ping An Asylum's live broadcasts, I don't know much about No. 04… He's usually too well-behaved, and he's a complete homebody. I've never seen him locked in solitary confinement, and I've never seen him apply for free activities. This is the first time I've seen his mental world!]

[Damn, this guy used to be so well-behaved? Shocking! I thought such a heavyweight pervert would be very active, but it turns out he's a hermit?]

Wen Jianyan pushed open the first room on his left.

The room was empty, with no cupboards, no bed, and nothing.

There was only an easel, quietly placed in the center of the room.

"…"

Wen Jianyan had a very ominous feeling in his heart.

He stepped forward, stopping in front of the easel, and looked at the canvas on it.

The bright light illuminated every detail of the painting perfectly.

It was an oil painting.

In terms of oil colors, light and shadow, and composition, it exuded astonishing classical beauty with skilled and delicate strokes, intricately depicting a terrifying scene.

Delicate, pale limbs looked as if they had been carefully tailored, like branches scattered in a small vase. The young man's closed eyes resembled a beautiful flower, cradled in the palm of a hand covered in fresh blood.

The blood drained from his face, and his pale lips were slightly parted, while the lifeless eyelashes hung down, obscuring the dull amber eyes underneath.

Wen Jianyan: "…"

He stared at the painting of his own face on the canvas, feeling a shiver run down his spine.

He took two steps back slowly and quickly left the room.

Inside the second door.

It was still an empty room, with an easel placed in the middle.

Different from the fresh and almost still-life style of the previous painting, this one had more intense colors, consisting of large areas of black and red.

The young man's body floated in mid-air, his limbs pinned to a crucifix. Under the backdrop of red and black, beneath the torn fabric, was pure, pale skin, like the faint light in a polluted world.

He hung in the air like a martyr, with fresh blood dripping down, forming a river of blood.

The third room…

The fourth room…

In each room, the content on the canvases was completely different, and some could even be identified as the basis of famous classical art paintings and sculptures. From certain details of poses and compositions, Wen Jianyan recognized the "Abduction of Proserpina" and the "Saturn Devouring His Son."

Abducted Proserpina was him, and he was also the one whose chest was torn apart by Cronus (Saturn).

On top of these existing artworks, No. 04 had upgraded them to a disturbing scale and depth that made Wen Jianyan uncomfortable.

Wen Jianyan stared at the painting in front of him.

On the canvas, the entangled limbs displayed a terrifying tension, resembling serpents coiled around each other.

His gaze fell on the torn dress, and he couldn't help but be slightly startled.

This dress… seemed somewhat familiar.

Wen Jianyan leaned in and carefully examined it.

He quickly realized that the same dress was in the wardrobe that No. 04 had opened earlier, except it hadn't been torn yet.

Realizing this, Wen Jianyan felt a chill running down his spine.

Damn, this pervert…

"Oh, you're here."

At that moment, a familiar, cold voice came from behind.

Wen Jianyan's body jolted, and he sprung up, turning towards the source of the sound.

There, No. 04 stood at the door, immaculately dressed, with an elegant posture. He used his gray eyes to appraise Wen Jianyan from head to toe and said, "It seems you haven't put on any of the clothes I prepared for you."

"…"

Wen Jianyan's lips twitched. "Let me guess. Each painting corresponds to a piece of clothing, and if I put on any of them, it's equivalent to choosing a method of death, right?"

No. 04 nodded frankly. "Yes."

He walked in step by step from the door, gradually closing the distance between them.

The young man's body instinctively tensed, and his amber eyes shone with alertness and agility in the darkness, like a cat ready to escape at any moment.

No. 04 stopped in front of the easel, raised his hand, and used his fingertips to touch the raised and recessed lines on the canvas.

Wen Jianyan quickly scanned the contents of the canvas and realized that the other's fingers were resting on the "him" in the painting, particularly on the thigh.

No. 04 lowered his eyes; his expression was tender, and his fingertip movements were gentle and delicate, in stark contrast to the almost cruel scene on the canvas.

"…"

Wen Jianyan felt a shiver down his spine, almost as if he was being touched for real.

The confrontation with No. 04 was within his expectations, and all his props had been secretly prepared. He still had several trump cards he hadn't used yet, and given the circumstances he had already foreseen, escaping should not be a problem.

However, Wen Jianyan forced himself not to react.

First, the timing wasn't right.

Secondly…

As a scammer, he had a keen sense of intuition.

Unlike several other high-risk patients who couldn't communicate at all, No. 04, although equally twisted and insane, judging from his actions…

He still seemed to have some remaining value that hadn't been fully explored.

"I'm hesitating."

No. 04 spoke slowly, breaking the silence.

Wen Jianyan fixed his gaze on him, maintaining a safe distance and repeating the last word slowly, "Hesitating?"

"Death," Number 04 suddenly said.

"It's the exclamation mark that abruptly falls when everything is pushed to its peak, the cruel endpoint that all paths inevitably lead to. It elevates beauty to greatness and eternity, an ultimate theme that no philosophy can bypass."

"Most human bodies are mundane, dull, and predictable."

He raised his eyes, and there seemed to be something dark burning in his gray eyes. "Human beauty should be stripped from the mundane bones and flesh, and only then can they become art, break free from imprisonment, and be elevated to the eternal and magnificent, transcending the ordinary."

No. 04's voice trembled with passion. He stared at Wen Jianyan with a slightly puzzled expression in his gray eyes and then changed the direction of his words:

"But you're different."

Wen Jianyan asked, "I'm different?"

"Yes, you're different. You are suited for more beautiful, more cruel, and more magnificent scenes, but that's a realm my brush cannot reach."

No.04's fingers tightened as he pulled the canvas off the easel and threw it at his feet, revealing a disappointed expression.

"I try I have painted many paintings, but none of them really satisfy me."

"…"

Wen Jianyan maintained his silence, approaching this conversation rationally.

"So, I had hoped you would choose to end my hesitation," No. 04 said, staring at the young man.

In other words, he had let Wen Jianyan choose which "outfit" to wear because he hadn't decided how he wanted to be "preserved" as an "art piece."

Wen Jianyan narrowed his eyes, feeling like he had finally found a clue amid the chaos.

From a psychoanalytic perspective, like the other patients, this guy was a sadist, antisocial, and had a strong Narcissus complex. However, unlike Edward, who was indiscriminate in his murders, No. 04's killings were selective.

"But you haven't made a choice."

No. 04's gaze slowly roamed over Wen Jianyan, as if he was trying to undress him with his eyes and penetrate his skin. "You haven't put on any of the clothes I selected for you."

The man raised his gray, lifeless eyes.

"In that case, I will treat it as if you've chosen the other option."

"As it's only a half-finished product, I didn't initially consider it." No. 04 reached into the inner pocket of his own clothing and pulled out the folded sketch paper, unfolding it nonchalantly.

"…"

Although he couldn't see what was on the paper from this angle, a vivid image naturally formed in Wen Jianyan's mind.

Sharp blades, bloodthirsty vines, white flowers, and intense, violent passion.

"I believe that with your participation, it will truly come together," No. 04 said, lifting his eyes with sincerity. "You must look beautiful when you're wearing nothing."

"!!!"

Wen Jianyan's heart subconsciously tightened, pounding fiercely within his chest.

The fingertips hanging at his side twitched due to extreme tension but were firmly held back by his strong will.

Stop.

Now was not the time to run.

There's a vulnerability.

An opportunity.

Staring at the insane patient hidden beneath the elegant facade not far away, Wen Jianyan took a deep breath and spoke gently, choosing his words carefully.

"But, don't you feel that your direction is wrong?"

"?"

No. 04 raised his eyes and scrutinized the young man in front of him.

"From what I observe at this moment, you shouldn't be so anxious."

The young man with amber eyes spoke softly. His lips curled slightly, and his tone was sweet and soft, conveying a genuine understanding and agreement.

"True art can't be compromised, right?"

"…" No. 04 narrowed their eyes.

The liar took a step forward, taking the initiative to walk towards the other person.

One step, two steps.

The safe distance was being reduced and intruded.

It was like prey willingly offering its neck to the snare, and yet, it was also as if a perfectly disguised hunter was closing in on its prey.

"I agree with your perspective; death and killing are both art."

"The result of perfunctory and compromise will only be shoddy, inferior products, a waste of time, and a waste of effort."

He raised his hand and placed his fingertips on the piece of sketch paper, sliding along the rough edges with a graceful and sensuous demeanor, as if soft silk were flowing between his fingers.

"All art needs inspiration."

"Do you remember our agreement?"

"Quid pro quo."

"You help me."

The young man raised his eyes, long and thick eyelashes concealing amber orbs filled with passion and warmth. He leaned closer, and his fingertips unconsciously landed on the paper, tracing along the entangled bodies gently.

Wen Jianyan's voice was low and seductive, with a hint of huskiness in the trailing notes, rising like a hook.

"As a return, I'll be your muse."