The Hand of Confession – Chapter 215

Volume 7: Days of Stargazing at the Inn

Protagonist?

Who exactly is the protagonist?

Shen Maomao frowned, sighed, and said, “Do we now also have to guard against this thing that occasionally incites people to commit suicide?”

The old traditional Chinese doctor said, “We went down the mountain and took a look around. Because of the rain, the road has become even muddier. Two young lads tried throwing things into the mud; whatever they threw sank to the bottom. Unless we can fly, we definitely can’t leave.”

The young lads he mentioned also said, “We set up an SOS by the edge of the muddy water. Hopefully, someone will see it…”

But in this desolate wilderness, the chances of anyone seeing it were probably very low.

The investigation reached a stalemate. Shen Maomao secretly observed who might be the protagonist.

Was it the traditional Chinese doctor who had a strong desire to show off and wanted to become the team leader? Or the wealthy man who claimed he had nothing to apologize for? Or Xi Tian and Qu Jing, who had narrowly escaped death? Or perhaps Xiaobao, who could kick his mother’s head like a ball?

After scanning the group, she suddenly realized there were still too many people.

More people meant a smaller chance of finding the protagonist. Could this damn instance really intend for them to only identify the protagonist on the very last day?

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After sitting down, Tang Song, Sanmu, and their two companions didn’t ask Lou Jingmo how she had returned, giving both sides enough private space and saving them the trouble of making up excuses.

The snow fell heavier and heavier, turning the entire sky gray and hazy. The outdoor temperature dropped bit by bit, and a thin layer of frost soon condensed on the windows. Shen Maomao went out to feel it for a moment, then rushed back into the house, hissing and huffing from the cold, shivering uncontrollably.

The food-serving girl provided the guests with warm black tea. The NPCs sat in the main hall, holding their teacups and admiring the snowy scenery, looking exceptionally comfortable. The shadow of death seemed to gradually recede, or perhaps it was buried deep in people’s hearts.

Shen Maomao asked Hong-jie worriedly, “Hong-jie, the snow is so heavy, and we don’t have any cold-resistant clothes. What should we do?”

Hong-jie spread her hands, indicating she had no solution either. “Wait, I guess. When the snow stops, maybe the temperature will go up again.”

Shen Maomao wanted to sigh even more.

Lou Jingmo handed her a cup of tea. “Don’t worry about outside for now. Drink some water and warm up.”

Shen Maomao: “…”

Fine, Big Bro isn’t worried, so why should she be? Anyway, with Lou-jie around, barring any accidents, she was already prepared to lie down and win¹.

So, she curled up in her chair and played Snake with a clear conscience. After passing dozens of levels, her eyes grew sore and her fingers numb. Only then did she put down her phone. When she looked up, she found that it was already dark. A few people were missing from the main hall, probably having teamed up to cook in the kitchen. The remaining people chatted sporadically. Golden Retriever had joined the chatting group, while Lou Jingmo, like her, was fiddling with her phone, though it looked like she was typing something in a memo app.

Only she had nothing important to do…

Shen Maomao silently hid her phone in her pocket.

The inn’s main hall was lit with warm yellow lights. The frost flowers on the windows flickered with green and red light, involuntarily reminding her of the Soul Harbor sign, and she instantly couldn’t sit still.

She tugged Lou Jingmo’s sleeve and whispered, “Lou-jie… can I go out and see the lights?”

Lou Jingmo nodded. “Go if you’re not afraid of the cold.”

So, Shen Maomao eagerly pushed open the main door and ran outside to look at the sign.

The Soul Harbor Inn had previously changed to Fire Harbor Inn, and now, as expected, another part had gone out, turning it into Alley Harbor² Inn.

‘火’³ has four strokes, the three-dots-water radical⁴ has three strokes. Counting the male player and 5 NPCs, only six people died today. Who was that extra one stroke/person?

Shen Maomao had a flash of inspiration and suddenly realized something—yesterday night, it wasn’t actually seven people who died, but five…

Then, counting the previous two, there are currently three ‘things’ mixed into the human camp. Among them, Mrs. Wang is definitely an iron wolf⁵, but it’s unknown who the other two are.

The cold wind blew full in her face. Shen Maomao shivered, quickly opened the door, and slipped back inside, whispering the situation to Lou Jingmo.

Lou Jingmo nodded, indicating she understood. “We’ll talk about it when we get back.”

So, Shen Maomao casually got up and went to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

There were many people in the kitchen, so there was no need to worry about accidents. Shen Maomao stir-fried two dishes with the meat and vegetables provided by the inn, then borrowed half of their rice from Tang Song and Van Gogh next door. The five of them—Shen Maomao, Lou Jingmo, Tang Song, Sanmu, and Van Gogh—gathered around a table and hastily finished their meal without really tasting anything, then prepared to go upstairs separately.

As usual, Sanmu invited them to wash up together. The seven players went downstairs together, once again arriving at the frequently problematic bathroom on the second floor.

As soon as they walked in, the group first saw the mirror, which was cracked into several pieces.

The cracks cut apart the reflections of the people in it. Shen Maomao realized something, yanked open the door to the women’s restroom, and looked down. Sure enough, she saw the wooden plank from this morning and the dried red spots in the toilet stall—clearly, the inn staff hadn’t cleaned it.

She looked at Lou Jingmo, who touched the tip of her nose and averted her eyes, not looking at the door panel.

Tang Song was startled by the mess and said, “Are these traces left by that head after we left?”

Lou Jingmo said, “No.”

Shen Maomao explained for her, “This was accidentally damaged by Xiao Tu earlier when she was trying to escape.”

Sanmu remembered Lou Jingmo’s disappearance and asked her, “What happened during the time you were missing?”

Lou Jingmo looked at the mirror, using her eyes to signal Shen Maomao, who was looking at her reflection, and put on an expression of being too lazy to speak.

Shen Maomao rolled her eyes at her and said, “Xiao Tu doesn’t like to talk, so I’ll explain for her. We are currently inside the mind of a mental patient. We are characters in a detective novel he fabricated, or you could say, personalities he himself fantasized. Xiao Tu dealt with the monster that came to kill her, successfully replaced the author’s main personality, lived in the real world in his stead for a few hours, and then was forced into a deep sleep and returned here.”

Tang Song looked bewildered. “What in the world?”

Sanmu said, “I also wondered at the beginning if we might be in some mental patient’s fantasy. After all, there are too many incongruous things in this instance. I didn’t expect to actually guess correctly.”

Shen Maomao gave him a thumbs-up. “The original author lives in a sanatorium. The name of that sanatorium is Soul Harbor.”

Sanmu clapped his hands. “That explains everything! Is there anything worth investigating in the real world?”

Lou Jingmo thought for a moment and said, “The original author is strictly supervised, with orderlies watching him all the time, so there wasn’t much chance to investigate. However, I saw the novel he wrote by hand. The plot progressed up to yesterday; today’s events haven’t been written yet. He probably fantasizes about the day’s events first—meaning our actions—and then writes them down.”

Sanmu: “Then can we go to the real world, change the ending, and then come back?”

Shen Maomao: “!!”

A single word can awaken a dreamer.

Lou Jingmo said, “This method might work, but the way to enter the real world isn’t as simple as you imagine. The reason I was able to come out alive is probably because those things didn’t expect me to still have the ability to resist.”

Sanmu sighed. “Then let’s continue looking for clues for now. We’ll consider this when it’s a last resort.”

After Tang Song and Van Gogh finished washing their faces, Lou Jingmo took out her phone and showed the picture of the skull to Van Gogh. “Can you recognize who this is?”

Van Gogh was uncharacteristically speechless for a moment. “…Even if I studied forensic medicine, I probably couldn’t identify someone based solely on a skull, could I?”

Lou Jingmo: “Look closely. This skull has high cheekbones, but a pointed chin, and the teeth aren’t even…”

Van Gogh gave her a deep look and said, “It’s Mr. Wang.”

Shen Maomao cursed “F#ck!” in her heart. He could actually recognize it?

Van Gogh explained, “Although skulls don’t have extremely large differences, there are subtle variations. If you had also observed Mr. Wang carefully, you probably would have recognized him at a glance too. Among everyone in the inn, only his skeletal frame is the largest, with high cheekbones, a pointed chin, crooked teeth, and they’re also somewhat yellow…”

This conclusion couldn’t have come just from observing Mr. Wang, right? Everyone present had probably been meticulously observed by Mr. Van Gogh. Their individual physical data was likely transparent to him. The thought was quite terrifying…

With this level of skill, why be a painter? Wouldn’t it be great to assist Uncle Policeman⁶ in solving cases?!

After sharing his professional knowledge, Van Gogh closed his mouth again, resembling a piece of moldy wood, exuding a dull, decaying aura.

Tang Song asked, “What’s the deal with this head? Xiaobao’s dad is still alive and well.”

As usual, Shen Maomao did the explaining, recounting what happened at the astronomical research center at noon.

Sanmu said, “According to what you’ve said, the people who died but are still mixed in the crowd include Mr. Wang and Mrs. Wang. Logically, there should be one more.”

Lou Jingmo raised an eyebrow and glanced at him. So Sanmu had also noticed the relationship between the colored lights and the number of people.

After Sanmu finished speaking, he observed the expressions of the people around him. He found that none of the seven showed any surprise, so he couldn’t help but smile and say, “It seems everyone has noticed. Do you have any candidates for that extra person? I suspect it’s that front desk clerk, Xiao Fu.”

Shen Maomao: “I suspect Hong-jie.”

Lou Jingmo: “Qu Jing from the couple.”

Tang Song: “I choose Xiaobao. A family should be neat and tidy together⁷.”

Xia Tian: “I suspect the old traditional Chinese doctor.”

Golden Retriever: “…I don’t suspect anyone much.”

Van Gogh: “Me neither.”

Five people, five options. It was impossible to choose, so they could only set aside this candidate for now.

The seven of them took turns washing up. Shen Maomao wanted to use the toilet but felt the women’s restroom was a bit scary and didn’t really want to stay inside.

Lou Jingmo reminded her, “That person with the obscured face we saw earlier outside the second-floor elevator is on the right side of the second floor.”

Shen Maomao: “I think I can manage now.”

Fortunately, no accidents occurred this time. The seven of them went upstairs together. Lou Jingmo directly took out her room card and opened the door, while Shen Maomao watched the other four—Tang Song, Sanmu, Van Gogh, and Xia Tian—walk towards their respective rooms, then rubbed her eyes.

Golden Retriever tugged her. “What are you looking at, Sister Rabbit? Let’s go.”

Shen Maomao was pulled in by him, her expression somewhat grave. “Why do I feel like… I saw a long, strip-shaped thing behind that Van Gogh?”

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