Chapter 19: Knocking on the Hotel Door (Part Four)

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Zhou Ke wanted to investigate Room 4, but since Room 6 was too close to Room 4, he feared that the Doorbell Ghost might pounce and deliver a “head pat” the moment he opened the door. So he cautiously waited until now.

In the darkness, his hand precisely grasped the doorknob of Room 4 on the first try. Just as he was about to turn it, the thing snapped off with a crack.

“That schemer—she’s prepared for everything,” Zhou Ke muttered, his mouth twitching.

Seeing that the door couldn’t be opened, he didn’t insist. He tossed the broken doorknob aside and faced the room where Louis and Linghu Shiyu were.

According to Mr. Zhou’s deduction, the rules inside Room 4 were very likely real.

Now, two choices lay before him.

One: join the “Traitor” faction and betray Linghu Shiyu or Louis by killing them.

Two: remain with the “Tenants” faction, stay in the corridor until dawn, expose Chen Minqun, and work with the survivors to find a way to escape.

The first option was easier—just kill someone to secure survival.

The second option was more conscientious but meant continuing to struggle against the unresolved predicament.

“So, what should I choose?” Zhou Ke slumped against the wall, his half-closed eyes betraying nothing of his inner thoughts.

Click.

The door shut; the youthful silhouette vanished into the darkness.

He disappeared silently—only the incessant nightly ringing of doorbells continued.

Of course, the boy was not dead.

Chen Minqun understood that perfectly.

She composed herself, her rounded leather shoes tapping the floor as she strode to the door. Her youthful appearance belied a sharp, murderous aura.

“Tch, that guy really figured out how to avoid the Doorbell Ghost,” she said, hearing the distant bell.

Pressing her eye to the peephole, she tried to see outside.

Unfortunately, the outside was pitch black, revealing nothing.

“I broke the corridor lights with water to make things easier, but now it’s backfired,” Chen Minqun muttered to herself.

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Though she said that, she refused to leave the door, lying prone and staring intently. Her bloodshot eyes rolled around the peephole, trying to trace Zhou Ke’s whereabouts.

Chen Minqun wasn’t afraid of the Doorbell Ghost attacking her.

The rule was that the Doorbell Ghost would only attack if it rang the doorbell and the occupant touched the door.

In other words, leaving before the bell rang was safe.

Since the bell was still some distance from Room 7, she had plenty of time to react.

“Tsk, what a pity,” she murmured, recalling Zhou Ke’s confident departure with regret. “I actually like smart guys, and that face suits my taste. If we met somewhere else, I wouldn’t mind dating for a while.”

Though seemingly ambiguous, her words dripped with lethal intent.

Chen Minqun’s plan was clear: even if Zhou Ke followed the rules and lured the ghost to kill, she would never let him off.

Indeed, she never intended to cooperate with Zhou Ke from the start.

After all, what trust or bottom line could one have with a murderer stained by the blood of their own kind?

Tenants might become allies, but a known Traitor was impossible.

“When he comes back, I’ll manipulate a water bomb to shoot through the door and kill him outside,” she whispered her plan.

“That way, tomorrow I can pin the Traitor’s blame on him and play the victim. Without witnesses, even if I can’t clear suspicion, no one will act rashly.”

Her fragile, low-resilience, useless persona was her shield.

Such a foolish character concealed her true nature; outsiders wouldn’t suspect a thing.

Most subconsciously believed the Traitor was cunning and intelligent.

Satisfied with her plan, Chen Minqun reviewed it once more.

“But where did he go? Why is there no sign of him?” She kept staring through the peephole.

“Looking for me?” Suddenly, a voice coldly emerged behind her.

Startled, Chen Minqun broke into a cold sweat.

She quickly summoned her power of Truth, adopting an offensive stance as she turned to face the door.

Then, she saw him.

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In the edge of the desk lamp’s light, Zhou Ke sat calmly on a chair, holding a book in his left hand and a pen in his right, bent over writing and drawing.

The warm yellow light filtered through dust motes, like countless moths drawn to the flame circling him. Presumably, in his eyes, her figure overlapped with one of those doomed moths.

Chen Minqun’s face darkened to its limits, but she forced calm and questioned, “I thought you went out. When did you come back?”

“Where I am isn’t important,” Zhou Ke said without looking up. “What matters is the choice I made, and the choice I am about to make.”

“Heh. You want to betray me?” Chen Minqun sneered, utterly unafraid.

She wasn’t a magic prodigy, failing to get into magic-related majors, and had little chance to study Truth.

But the gap between her and Zhou Ke, who had recently awakened to Truth, was like that between a barely passing college student in advanced math and a high schooler who had never studied it.

Knowing a little versus knowing nothing made all the difference.

“Do you really think I don’t dare kill you?”

Chen Minqun decisively snapped her fingers twice. Twin streams of purified water shot out, piercing Zhou Ke’s chest and abdomen.

But before she could celebrate, his body shattered like glass fragments into sparkling dust.

Then, in the next moment, it reassembled, reforming Zhou Ke’s figure.

He still held the pen and book, still bowed his head, unaffected.

The illusion of “The Boy Who Cried Wolf,” cooled overnight, had regained its uses.

“What’s going on?!” Chen Minqun was horrified, unsure if it was Zhou Ke’s Truth at work. She dared not make a rash move.

“The light outside is so dark, I imagine you’re curious about what I was doing out there,” Zhou Ke said lazily, relaxed and unguarded.

After all, the figure inside was only an illusion; the real Zhou Ke was still in the corridor.

Chen Minqun said nothing, but her anxious and doubtful expression showed her burning curiosity.

“First, I broke the doorbell on the room,” Zhou Ke said, pulling a folding spring knife from his pocket and casually twirling the handle between two fingers. “Now, no matter how you press it, it won’t ring.”

Chen Minqun initially didn’t react, until the door behind her suddenly slammed and broke the bolt. A muddy, dirty arm grabbed her ankle.