Chapter 1 November 24, 1990

The calendar on the wall showed the date to be November 24, 1990. Feng Bujue was in a company that produced electronic equipment. It was considered a large enterprise in the town, but still far behind the companies in the big cities.

Before Feng Bujue began his investigation, he habitually touched his pockets. The three keys had reappeared, which likely meant that this item would be used soon.

As someone who lived in the 21st century, the 2050s, he would definitely turn on the computer in front of him first. And then… there was no then. Looking at the black screen, the flashing cursor, Feng Bujue, who knew next to nothing about DOS, was immediately dumbfounded.

He reluctantly began to flip through the paper documents on the desk. After spending twenty minutes, he basically determined that these were all useless pieces of paper. So he went to search the desk drawers one by one. Unsurprisingly, one of the drawers was locked. He took out the keys to try, and sure enough, there was a suitable one.

After opening the drawer, Feng Bujue saw a large envelope, which was bulging. Underneath the large envelope was a small envelope with the words "Resignation" written on it.

Feng Bujue looked around furtively, then opened both envelopes to read them. The large envelope contained the resume of Hirata Shuichi. This kid actually graduated from Kyoto University. No wonder he was able to sit in the position of Deputy Minister before the age of thirty. He really didn't know why he wanted to develop in this small town.

The small envelope naturally contained the resignation letter. Feng Bujue also took a look and understood some of the situation. This Hirata was a good person. He wanted to retain as many employees with difficult family situations as possible, while he himself was already prepared to resign.

After reading it, Feng Bujue put everything back, locked the drawer again, and went to the toilet.

The reason he hid in the toilet stall was because he planned to use [Decisive Victory from a Thousand Li Away] again. He didn't want to use it in the crowded office. If that splitting headache came again, and he suddenly fell off his chair and clutched his head, it would likely cause a commotion.

Taking a deep breath, Feng Bujue activated his title skill, but the result was the same as when he used it last time. A piercing pain erupted in his skull, and he still didn't see any Boss data in front of him, only his own face flashed by. This face was the same as the last time he saw it, with a numb expression, wide eyes, and a lifeless gaze.

As Feng Bujue clutched his head, gradually recovering from the dizziness and headache, he heard the sound of the toilet door being opened. Judging from the sound of the footsteps, two people had come in.

The two walked to the urinal, solving their problems while chatting.

"Hey… you saw it by the stairs just now, right?"

"Ah, yes, that scumbag Minister is getting bolder and bolder."

"Shh! Be careful someone overhears…"

"Tch… so what if they hear? I don't want to work here anymore anyway. That bastard Fukui, isn't the company's current state all his fault?" The man spat and said angrily, "Always making stupid decisions, but pushing the responsibility onto others. It is said that he has been embezzling public funds for more than just a day or two. The company is facing bankruptcy, but he's doing well, he even bought that luxurious Western-style house a few days ago and moved in… it's because of such parasites that everyone will lose their jobs."

"Alas… even if we know, what can we, the bottom-level employees, do?"

The two had now arrived at the sink. After washing their hands, there was the sound of a lighter lighting a cigarette. The two each took a puff, and then said, "The most pitiful is Hirata-kun, always having to clean up that bastard's mess. Letting Hirata be responsible for layoffs and making enemies with people is probably his idea too."

"It's true that good people don't get rewarded. I also heard that Hirata's house was in the area most severely damaged by the last typhoon. Now he and his wife can only move to the longhouse in 3-chome."

"Huh? Can people live in that place?"

"Who says they can?" The man exhaled smoke. "But to say who's the unluckiest, it's still his wife cheating on him behind his back."

"Yeah, so blatantly flirting with the Minister on the stairs. Even we bystanders can't stand it anymore." The man also exhaled smoke. "It is said that a few years ago, Hirata-kun gave up a great future in Tokyo and specially returned to his hometown to cure Zihzi. Back then, Zihzi was able to come to work at this company because Hirata-kun went around begging people. Now that woman is getting together with that scumbag Minister all day long for money, doing some dirty deeds under her husband's nose. It's really disgusting."

Feng Bujue was shocked listening to the dialogue of these two NPCs. This script was definitely destroying his worldview. This Hirata Shuichi was more than just a tragedy… his house was destroyed by a typhoon, his wife was sleeping with a scumbag, his job was almost gone, he didn't seem to have much money, he gave up a great future and youth but got nothing in return, and he was constantly encountering ghosts and monsters. This kind of guy should just end it all sooner rather than later.

"Hey… it seems like someone is in that stall." The two suddenly lowered their voices.

"Did they hear us… who's inside…"

"Crap… when I passed the office just now, Hirata-kun didn't seem to be at his seat, could it be…"

The voices of the two gradually became so low that Feng Bujue couldn't hear them.

He was still considering how to get out of this situation… but he didn't expect that this problem would be solved directly, because Feng Bujue lost control of his body again.

"No way! Again?" Feng Bujue thought, "Don't tell me this script has four or more main storylines! Is this ever going to end?"

The answer was, yes, and it was already over.

This time, even the system voice didn't sound, and the scenery in front of Feng Bujue didn't turn into CG. Instead, it turned into a projection on a wall. In that second, he was already in a room with cement walls, no windows, and the door was not in his sight.

When he came back to his senses, he found that he could suddenly see colors, and the clicking sound in his ears gradually became clear.

At this moment, Feng Bujue was wearing a straitjacket for mental patients, with his hands crossed horizontally in front of his chest. The sleeves had no cuffs, wrapped around his body, and connected behind him. His neck, waist, legs, and ankles were tightly bound by special leather straps, fixing his body to a chair. He could only maintain a sitting posture, and even moving from side to side was difficult.

And what made him feel the most uncomfortable was that his eyelids were fixed to his eye sockets with tape, unable to close. At this moment, he only felt his eyes dry and extremely uncomfortable.

The clicking sound came from a small projector on a table to his side and rear. This device was aimed at the wall in front of Feng Bujue, projecting images taken with black-and-white negatives. The last scene in the image was the toilet from just now.

Snap, snap.

Someone reached out and snapped their fingers twice in front of Feng Bujue's eyes. Feng Bujue turned his eyeballs and saw a man in his thirties, wearing an old-fashioned checkered suit. The clothes looked very old, but the workmanship and fabric were obviously very particular, indicating that the price was not cheap.

The man wore black-rimmed glasses and had a standard hairstyle. He had an ordinary appearance and a kind expression, but the look in his eyes as he looked at Feng Bujue at this moment was somewhat doubtful.

"Hirata-kun, are you alright?" the man asked.

"Who are you?" Feng Bujue replied.

The man's expression changed slightly. He took out a miniature flashlight from his pocket, aimed it at Feng Bujue's eyeball, and leaned closer to observe.

Feng Bujue's eyes became even more uncomfortable when stimulated by the light: "Hey! Don't do that! It's too dazzling. Who exactly are you? A doctor?"

"I am Doctor Watanabe, don't you remember me?" the man asked.

"How did I get here? What is going on?" Feng Bujue asked.

"I said, Doctor, you are wasting your time." Another voice came from behind Feng Bujue. It was his blind spot, but the owner of the voice quickly came up from behind.

The man was around fifty years old, with graying temples, a fierce and decisive face, wearing a windbreaker, and holding a half-smoked cigarette in his hand.

"Inspector Tachibana, please don't interrupt me, this is very important." Watanabe said.

"Tch…" Tachibana unhappily extinguished the cigarette, put his hands in his pockets, and stared intently at Feng Bujue, or rather, glared at Hirata Shuichi.

"Do you remember anything, Hirata-kun?" Watanabe asked.

"I…" Feng Bujue didn't know how to answer. What he could determine at the moment was that the three stories he had just experienced were all Hirata Shuichi's memories. He decided to tell the truth and see what information this NPC would give him. "I was walking on my way home and encountered the Slit-Mouthed Woman…"

As soon as he uttered the first sentence, Tachibana next to him roared, "Bastard! Are you not going to stop this?" As he spoke, he was about to grab Feng Bujue's hair, but Doctor Watanabe stopped him.

"Inspector, calm down!" Watanabe stopped him.

"Inspector…" Feng Bujue had been thinking about the situation in front of him since just now. At this moment, he had a bold conjecture. "Did I kill someone?"

"Did you kill someone?" Tachibana repeated his words, then sneered, and then laughed loudly. "You finally confessed, did you? I thought you were going to deny it to the end."

"Doctor Watanabe, are you a psychiatrist?" Feng Bujue turned his head and asked.

"Yes, I am," Watanabe replied.

"Then you must know about multiple personality disorder, right?"

Watanabe hesitated for a moment, and replied, "Of course, I know."

"What do you mean, is this kid trying to feign madness to escape punishment and even come up with a new trick?" Tachibana said loudly from the side, his anger seeming to set his hair on fire.

Feng Bujue ignored him and said to himself, "I am not Hirata Shuichi."