"Boluogo, I rarely open my heart to others. This may be related to my withdrawn personality, or it may be because I live a solitary life and cannot come into contact with other people.
I think what I say next should be a kind of confession... I guess, just treat it as a confession."
Irwin's eyes were red, his hands pressed on the typewriter, and he kept tapping the keyboard. His ten fingers were dripping with blood, and the broken fingernails were dug into the flesh. Every collision with the keys would bring a burst of heart-breaking pain.
But Irwin seemed not to feel any of this, his eyes were firmly locked on the paper, focusing on his writing.
"The game is not over, on the contrary, it is ongoing in ways we can hardly imagine.
Yes, just like our lives, nothing will end until the moment of death.
I don't know how to describe what I'm experiencing now, it's like... it's like story and reality overlapped, like we did in Dawn, but then it was more of a game and now it's more of a game
Like an evolving 'reality'."
The breeze came in through the gap in the window. It disturbed the pages of the book and made a rustling sound like the friction of leaves. The sound was sweet and elegant, echoing in the big library and reaching Irwin's ears. He seemed to be in a dense forest.
.
As if being stared at by a tiger hiding in the bushes, Irwin couldn't help but stop typing. His eye sockets were deeply sunken, and the skin around his eye sockets turned livid, as if he hadn't slept for several days and nights.
The sound of footsteps came from a distant place, and Irwin knew who was coming. He quickly hid the letter he was typing and inserted the unfinished manuscript back into the typewriter.
At this moment, the number of words in the manuscript has increased by several pages compared to before. The black ink is mixed with a dark red color. These words seem to have some kind of magic power. At first glance, all the words are actually slowly squirming.
It causes the observer to feel a strange feeling of dizziness and nausea.
It was as if what Irwin was writing was not his own story, but some kind of evil book. Every page of the book was woven with extremely blasphemous words and crazy curses and witchcraft.
I don't know since when, the sun has not fallen on this castle for a long time. Moist mold is growing wantonly in the corners. Together with the vines and branches, they penetrate into the gaps between the bricks and stones, push through the soil, and penetrate into the castle.
Among them, large tracts of vines were like countless dancing tentacles, completely wrapping up this huge building.
"Darkness is eating the world."
Irwin quickly tapped the key and printed a line of text on his manuscript.
Like a prophecy, as Irwin wrote, the darkness in the outside world became deeper and thicker. No matter how Irwin looked, he could not glimpse the slightest starlight, as if the Daisy Castle had been separated from the entire world.
Irwin raised his head, and through the glass dome above his head, which was covered with fallen leaves and dust, he could see those dense vines that looked like a group of snakes. Cracks were spreading on the glass. It seemed that it would not be able to hold on for much longer. Irwin could predict that.
In such a scene, in the next moment, the vines squeezed through the glass, invaded the castle, and ate up all the living creatures.
The footsteps were getting closer and closer. The other party should be stepping on a pair of exquisite high heels. The soles of the shoes hit the marble, making a crisp sound that echoed in the silent castle.
She did not hide her existence at all, because in her opinion, Irwin had nowhere to escape.
Arriving at the door of the big library, she knocked on the door politely, signaling Irwin's arrival. Hearing the sound, Irwin stopped what he was doing and got out of working mode. At this time, the pain in his fingertips
The belated arrival stung his nerves, and then he saw the blood spilling from under the typewriter, flowing to the edge, and then dripping down like melted wax.
"are you tired?"
The woman came to Irvin with a fruit plate filled with various cut fruits. She placed the fruit plate on the workbench. She stood behind Irvin, put her hands on Irvin's shoulders, and kneaded him.
Pinch and relax.
"How long will it take you to finish writing?"
The woman leaned close to Irwin, her warm breath brushed against Irwin's ear, her voice was close at hand, and the scent of flowers covered up the smell of blood on Irwin's body, and then he saw the beautiful illusion of complicated flashbacks, one after another.
Flash past.
"I...I don't know."
Irwin stared at the blank page on the typewriter. His story was not over yet, and he didn't know how to end it.
"Then keep writing," the woman smiled. "Didn't you say that this would be a true, autobiographical story? In other words, you would write down all the stories you have experienced... What are you waiting for?
Woolen cloth?"
The woman hugged Irwin's neck intimately, cheek to cheek. She whispered to Irwin. Her warm breath was so close, but Irwin didn't feel any good at all. On the contrary, he felt like he was being entangled by a poisonous snake.
It's like it's stuck on your neck.
Raising his stiff hands, Irwin typed mechanically, writing everything he had experienced into the book.
"We don't know whether this counts as escaping the nightmare, but judging from my current experience, it is obvious that I did not escape... I failed to escape the control of the King of Monsters."
Asmodeus stared at the words and burst into laughter. She knew that the King of Monsters was referring to herself.
"Darkness has enveloped me, enveloped this land, and it is still eating away at everything."
As soon as Irwin finished typing the characters, the surrounding glass began to shake violently. It seemed like something was hitting the castle hard in the darkness. They came one after another, and cracks covered the glass, as if they would happen next moment.
It collapsed, and within the cracks, black breath tried to flow into the room.
"The King of Monsters is by my side, tempting me with her false faces..."
As if to respond to Irwin's words, Asmodeus let go of Irwin, and she walked slowly behind the work table. At the same time, her shape also changed, her tall figure became shorter, her sexy skirt
The clothes turned into ordinary clothes. She put her hands behind her back and looked at Irwin with an innocent face.
"is that so?"
The familiar voice made Irwin slightly distracted. He stopped typing and looked at the familiar girl in front of him.
Cinderella, she appeared in front of Irwin again. Irwin thought he would never see her again. He just felt a joy of reunion, and then a severe cold filled his heart.
Fake, this is all fake, Cinderella never really existed, only Asmodeus.
Seeing Irwin's wonderful change of expression, she laughed happily, and then she took out a book. The cover of the book was the head of a white gull. He opened his mouth forcefully and his eyes widened, as if he was crying silently.
Like howling.
"I can't remember the first time we met, Irwin. After all, I have too many souls to harvest. I can't remember them all."
Asmodeus opened the book, turned it toward Irwin, and turned the pages slowly.
There are identity cards one after another stuck on the pages of the book, with different ages, figures, appearances, and stories. These are all one of the countless identities of Asmodeus in the game world.
She felt distressed and said, "There are too many, which one do you fall in love with?"
Irwin stared directly at her. Unlike Asmodeus's smile, Irwin's face was pale, as if he had lost all his blood.
"What are you talking about?" Irwin muttered to himself, and then his voice became louder and he yelled, "What are you talking about!"
Irwin grabbed the pen out of control, leaned over, swung the pen and nailed it to Asmodeus's palm. The sharp pen tip penetrated her flesh and blood and hit the table.
"Wow."
Asmodeus looked at Irwin in surprise, and then she pulled out her palm little by little. The wound gradually expanded and dripped with blood, but she did not feel any pain at all. Instead, she felt like she was tasting some kind of joy.
Irwin retreated in embarrassment. At this moment, he was extremely lost. Asmodeus suddenly disappeared, and then suddenly appeared behind him, pushed him back to his seat, and then gently pressed his head, forcing Irwin to look.
Towards the window.
"Tell me, Irwin, what's out the window?"
Asmodeus asked Irwin to stare into the darkness. Irwin's eyes were gradually covered by pitch black, and a hideous and terrifying voice gradually emerged from the turbid and sticky darkness.
Irwin tried hard to convince himself that these were all false and hallucinations, but his hands still rested on the keys uncontrollably, his fingers trembling.
"Say it and write it down."
The darkness began to solidify, and this illusion was a little too real. Irwin's eyes were bloodshot, and he growled in a low voice, "This doesn't exist."
There was a look of disappointment in Asmodeus's eyes, and his white hands covered Irwin's bloody hands, gently pressing Irwin's fingertips as if teaching him how to use a typewriter.
The key was pressed, and fresh characters were printed on the snow-white paper one after another.
"I'll tell you what's in the dark."
Asmodeus removed his hands, but Irwin could no longer control his hands and pressed the buttons tirelessly again.
"There are monsters in the darkness..."
As soon as Irwin finished typing this line, his narrative became reality. The monster jumped out of the darkness and hit the glass. However, this powerful blow failed to break the glass, but instead broke it itself.
With its head bruised and bleeding, it made bursts of bloodthirsty sounds and disappeared into the darkness again. Irwin didn't feel that it had left, it was just looking for a gap to invade the castle.
There were more noises in the darkness.
Asmodeus said, "Go on."
"I think I'm cursed."
Another line of text was printed on the paper, "I have some kind of power...the power to turn words into reality. This may also be a trick of the King of Monsters. She will turn everything I write into reality."
"
A shrill scream came from the long corridor of the castle, mosquitoes buzzed and flew, and the smell of decay of rotting flesh and blood overflowed.
"Is this the letter you want to write for help?"
Asdermo found the page that Irwin had written before from the pile of paper. It was a letter to Bologg, in which Irwin's own confession was written, but this letter was just the beginning.
"This is not a letter asking for help."
Irwin shook his head, "This is my suicide note."
Asmodeus took off the page Irwin was writing on and inserted the page into the typewriter.
"Forget it, whatever it is, you've written it down, you have to write it down, that's the rule, the author has to finish his story."
Irwin continued the long torture with mixed emotions.
"Brogo, I hope you can know my ending.
It was a long battle and a trick of fate. On that train, I thought I had indeed fallen in love with a devil, a ghost I had never known. I thought I was relieved, but the torture continued.
.
She is laughing at me.
This is a story written from my own experience, and now... the story I wrote will become a reality.
I didn’t know how to continue writing. All I could imagine was death, and when I wrote down that despair, I thought that in reality... I would also inevitably face real despair."
The howls of monsters kept coming and going under the night. In Irwin's writing, he escaped from the Happy Garden, but in Daisy Castle, he was found by Asmodeus once again.
Irwin personally wrote down what happened in reality, and what he described overlapped with reality. Reality and illusion were completely intertwined, and Irwin also recorded the collapse of the castle like a real recorder.
.
"My friend, I think it's time for me to pay for my crazy fantasies."
Irwin finished writing his suicide note. The content was very simple. He just told others the reasons for all this and the cause of his death... Irwin didn't want to die quietly without anyone to mourn. Then Irwin didn't want to die quietly.
Too lonely.
After writing this, Irwin felt that his mood was much better. He thought that he was not afraid of loneliness, he just needed someone to talk to. This kind of self-talk was not bad. Irwin thought that he had the courage again.
Perhaps in order to seek some comfort, or perhaps out of suspicion that all this will eventually go to nothingness, leaving no trace of existence behind, Irwin wrote down hopefully.
"I hope you can see this."
Warm comfort flowed through Irwin's chest, and then a great fear arose. Irwin cursed himself for having done such a stupid thing.
He tore off the page and tried to erase the last line of words, but it was too late. When Irwin wrote it, the words had become reality.
The page burned and disappeared, and Irwin could no longer grasp it.
…
Palmer picked up the letter, his face full of shock, and he greeted, "Bologo, come and take a look at this."
Burlogo took off his apron and didn't understand what was so shocking about Palmer. He took the letter and started reading it. At the same time, Palmer collapsed on the sofa with a splitting headache.
"The game is not over."
Palmer covered his head and said, "At least for us."
Boluogo put down the letter with a serious expression. At this moment, he remembered the huge chessboard that corresponded to reality. Behind the coast map were the vast snow-capped mountains. Under the blizzard, the real decisive battle would begin in the gloomy castle.