Chapter 67 Dialectical Game (5) Sunk Cost

The uncanny valley effect brought about both psychological and physiological discomfort, the sense of incongruity weaving together like a net.

Qi Si stared at the figure in the mirror, silent for a long time, before saying calmly, “If it’s just that the appearance doesn’t look quite human, it can be completely solved through makeup.”

Jin Yusheng said seriously, “You have no soul.”

Qi Si looked away and gave a chilly smile, “When the last plank of the Ship of Theseus is replaced, is it still the original ship? In your opinion, is it the body or the soul that ultimately determines what makes a person human?”

“If it’s the soul, why are you obsessed with maintaining the vital signs of Qi Si’s body? If it’s the body, why are you using the presence of a soul as your criterion for judgment?”

Jin Yusheng said, “How I see it doesn’t matter; the criterion determined by the Eerie Game is the soul.”

The Eerie Game’s criterion?

Qi Si seemed to realize something and smiled even more pleasantly, “Then what do you think the standard for judging whether a person has a soul is?”

“Ethnic groups in Africa insist that newborns have no souls, so they can abandon their wives and children with a clear conscience to reduce the cost of upbringing; certain religions need to intimidate their followers into having more children to increase the population that supports them and expand their influence, so they claim souls exist.”

“Some believe the soul is the self-awareness of being human, while others believe it’s that intangible thing rumored to be 21 grams. So, what about you? I’m curious, what set of standards do you use to judge the existence of a’soul’?”

Jin Yusheng put away the tablet, his tone unfriendly: “You promised just now that you wouldn’t discuss these boring questions with me. Don’t go back on your word.”

Qi Si tilted his head, his unfocused eyes turned toward Jin Yusheng, waiting quietly and peacefully, as if certain he would give an answer.

After a long silence, Jin Yusheng let out a long breath and said, “I don’t know.”

His expression revealed a hint of fatigue: “I believe in the Eerie Game’s judgment. When it determines that my wish has been fulfilled, it will mean Qi Si’s soul has returned.”

“You regret making that wish,” Qi Si concluded.

He looked into Jin Yusheng’s eyes and said with a smile, “You’ve known Qi Si for six years; you know exactly what kind of scumbag he is. Death was his best end, where all sin settled and the final verdict on right and wrong was reached; as a mediocre normal person, you never dared to bear the guilt of bringing an evil spirit back to the human world.”

“More importantly, you understand that once he knows you’ve also become a player, he will definitely find a way to deal with the hidden danger of someone who knows him too well. After a moment of impulse, you realized this in hindsight, so you began to feel afraid, began to hesitate… The soul is the last key, and you don’t dare to open the blind box of life and death.”

The atmosphere froze for a moment, and Jin Yusheng’s expression turned ugly, as if what Qi Si said was precisely the fact he couldn’t refute.

He pondered for two seconds and sighed faintly, “But I must resurrect him. Once a wish is made, it cannot be changed. If I don’t resurrect him, I can’t make a new wish, and I’ll never be able to escape the Eerie Game.”

Wishes can’t be changed by spending points anymore? Did the Eerie Game cheat, or did the rules change?

Qi Si felt something and a smile hung on his face like a mask: “If you just want to change your wish, maybe I can help you.”

Jin Yusheng didn’t answer, picking up a walkie-talkie from the table on his own and saying, “It’s over. Send No. 9 back to the Observation Room.”

…After going in a circle, Qi Si returned to the Observation Room once more, fixed in a supine position, staring eye-to-eye with the surveillance camera on the ceiling.

Although the fact that “he was a clone” was somewhat hard to accept, under rationalist analysis, more and more evidence was laid on the table, causing the scales of the conclusion to tilt toward the bad side.

First, his three questions had received relatively reasonable explanations.

Leaving him alone in a room was because the researchers were irresponsible, and reviewing the attitude of those white-coated staff, one could indeed find that they lacked enthusiasm for their work.

His body in reality didn’t die immediately, most likely because Jin Yusheng had casually made a wish to resurrect him, and the Eerie Game was happy to use him to string Jin Yusheng along to extract more sin.

The existence of the Research Institute and resurrection technology was even more reasonable; things exchanged from the Eerie Game certainly didn’t need to follow science.

Second, Jin Yusheng’s attitude was very real.

If this guy had been exactly as Qi Si remembered from start to finish, Qi Si would have been relieved instead, certain that he was just an NPC the Eerie Game had replicated one-to-one into the instance.

But he initially maintained a mask-like indifference, looking every bit like a veteran player who had struggled in instances for three years, only occasionally revealing shadows of the past… this was very consistent with reality.

Also, initially wanting to resurrect him out of some Messiah complex, then regretting it halfway and muddled through like an ostrich—this kind of reaction also didn’t seem fake.

The Jin Yusheng in reality was exactly such a wavering, fence-sitting fellow; although he often helped him with dirty work, he never had the guts to commit any major anti-human crimes, and might even call the police if he encountered a murder on the street… Third, Jin Yusheng believed that “wishes cannot be changed.”

In Qi Si’s experience, a wish made could be changed by spending points; the Eerie Game naturally knew this as well, and if it were a deliberate design, it wouldn’t leave such an obvious flaw in this regard.

Game instances follow logic; only reality doesn’t need logic. Although he didn’t know why Jin Yusheng couldn’t change the set wish, this exactly proved: this place and this situation were reality.

Finally, and most importantly, Qi Si saw that his image in the mirror was clearly not that of a living person.

The Forum had summarized countless laws over thirty-six years, one of which was “only role-playing instances will change a player’s image.” Players either turn into completely unrelated people or keep their own faces; it would never be that only details like the eyes change.

Of course, it could also be survivor bias—people who encountered special circumstances all died in the instance, and after getting out, they were busy leaving final words and had no time to pass on their experience.

—But that wasn’t good news either.

Thoughts grew wildly like vines, and Qi Si slowly curled his lips into a brilliant smile: “I look like Qi Si, I think I’m Qi Si, my thoughts and memories are Qi Si’s, my behaviors and choices are also Qi Si’s… So, why can’t I be Qi Si?”

…About two more hours passed before the nurse pushed the small cart in again.

While she was taking out the blood pressure monitor to calibrate it, Qi Si said, “I want to see your Director. There are some things I forgot to mention.”

The tone of these words was very much like a criminal wanting to provide a supplementary statement. The nurse didn’t dare to delay and rushed out.

Ten minutes later, Jin Yusheng appeared in the Observation Room with an impatient look: “Is there anything else you want to say?”

Qi Si looked at him and smiled, “Right now, you simply want to end the current wish as soon as possible so you can escape the Eerie Game as early as possible.”

“Then tell me, if in the process of fulfilling the wish, the difficulty of the wish skyrockets, making the estimated points required far lower than the actual situation, would the Eerie Game be willing to continue this losing business?”

Compared to waking up a person in a vegetative state, resurrecting a mangled corpse was on a completely different level of difficulty.

Fulfilling a wish to cultivate a soul for a person in a vegetative state already required 500,000 points; the points needed to resurrect the dead would probably be counted in the millions.

As long as the original was completely destroyed, the Eerie Game would have to re-analyze the wish, design a plan, and calculate the points.

There would be a lot of room for maneuver in that.

Jin Yusheng was stunned for a moment and asked in a low voice, “You don’t mean to say…”

Qi Si said indifferently, “It’s exactly as you think.”

Jin Yusheng’s face suddenly turned ugly, and his voice went cold: “You have his memories, so you should know that I could never hurt him. If he hadn’t saved me nine years ago, I would have already burned to death in that fire…”

“He was the one who set that fire.”

Qi Si looked up at the ceiling: “If it weren’t to create chaos, he wouldn’t have picked the locks of every room to let the people inside out. He was actually curious about the speed at which human flesh burns in such a spectacular bonfire, and to this day, he still regrets not trying it.”

Jin Yusheng sneered, “Do you take me for a fool? My leg was injured then, there was no reason for him to turn back and carry me on his back; that would only slow down the escape…”

“Oh, of course, because he was thinking long-term,” Qi Si recalled. “The young Qi Si didn’t have much confidence in his acting skills and didn’t think he could win others’ sympathy without props.”

“And you, covered in injuries, looked miserable enough to signal the severity of the problem. That way, hitchhiking, calling the police, and finding a place to stay would all become much easier.”

He paused for a moment, a hint of pity in his gaze: “As for you being grateful to Qi Si later and willingly being used by him for six years, that was outside his plan.”

“Qi Si originally only thought of establishing a connection with you through a timely rescue in exchange for a certain degree of help. After all, you looked pampered and didn’t seem like someone sold in by relatives. If he sent you home and acted a bit more pitifully, your family would have to take him in for a while.”

“Facts proved he thought right. Since your parents were unreliable enough to send a child to that kind of summer camp, they naturally wouldn’t doubt his actions. You guys actually supported him for half a year until he inherited his parents’ estate.”

Qi Si occasionally had a strong urge to perform, liking to describe the things he had done in detail in front of his victims.

At this moment, his right hand was loosely draped over the bed rail acting as a restraint, his fingertips tapping out the rhythm of Twisted Nerve every now and then.

“Looking at your expression, it seems my eight predecessors didn’t tell you this? By the way, do you really think your parents’ deaths were an accident? You encountered a series of accidents afterward, and every time Qi Si was always able to help you solve them effortlessly—do you think all of that could be a coincidence?”

“To be honest, I’m really curious why you were naive enough to think that Qi Si, who didn’t even care about his own parents, would cherish you, a ‘friend’ who could at most be considered a frequently used tool… Is this some kind of self-PUA?”

Jin Yusheng interrupted coldly, “Why do you think I would believe the one-sided story of a clone like you?”

“Actually, you already believe it.”

Qi Si looked up, his tone becoming solemn and grave: “Emotions, gratitude, and grudges are fragile and easily broken; interest is the eternal and unchanging object of measurement. Letting an unstable factor like Qi Si live does more harm than good; there’s no suspense about that—is there?”

Under Jin Yusheng’s flickering gaze, he smiled and sighed, “It’s time to end this farce. Starting from ‘me’ and ending by me, it’s a very interesting conclusion—don’t you think?”