At this moment, Lu Chu realized that everything he had been pondering about the so-called “breath” theory also applied to himself.
His mind was in chaos.
He hurriedly walked back to the captain’s cabin, pulling along 7.
7 knew that Lu Chu was deep in thought about the truth of this “game” and stayed silent, not disrupting his thoughts, letting Lu Chu lead him back.
Back in their shared room, Lu Chu sat on the edge of the bed, dazed. He lowered his head, letting his bangs cover his eyes, and began connecting and integrating everything he had deduced in his mind, extracting evidence step by step and applying it to himself.
So, this is the correct answer.
Lu Chu, still sitting on the bed, raised his head, his clear eyes looking at 7, and slowly said, “I am the ‘Big Cat’, right?”
As soon as he said this, a cold chill ran through Lu Chu, chilling him to the bone.
It turned out that those victims he had been trying so hard to find the true culprit for were all killed by… “Lu Chu.”
7 stepped forward, knelt down on one knee, lightly touched Lu Chu’s cheek, then gently hugged him, his eyes filled with undisguised pity: “You were bound to find out sooner or later.”
Yes, sooner or later.
Lu Chu recalled that when he first entered this game, the victim with severed legs had looked at him with hatred and pain, repeatedly saying “You killed me” and “Lu Chu, you killed me.”
At that time, Lu Chu thought the person wanted him to end his suffering.
Now, he realized that person wasn’t begging for release but stating a fact: “You killed me.”
Lu Chu killed him.
7 held Lu Chu, his voice soft and low: “The rules of this game state that when all passengers and crew on the cruise ship, except for the ‘ghost slaves’, are successfully killed, the ‘tiger’ will know their identity. At the same time, the player as the ‘tiger’ successfully clears the level.”
After the initial shock, Lu Chu had calmed down a bit. He continued with 7’s explanation, “So, the ‘rules’ reverse the usual obstacles that prevent players from finding answers, allowing everyone in this game to use their strengths to advance the events step by step, ultimately deducing who the real culprit is.”
Once those people found clues and had a target, or if the ghost slaves intended to leak information, the player as the “tiger” would unknowingly be in danger.
Lu Chu sighed, “In this game, the player’s opponent is not a god, nor a murderer, but the player themselves.”
The hardest part of this game is that the player wholeheartedly pursues the murderer, gathering key evidence bit by bit, and painstakingly pieces together the details, only to suddenly discover that the evidence points to themselves as the murderer.
As a murderer, the player sacrifices so much effort to find themselves, only to be killed by those who survive and learn the truth—leading to mission failure caused by the player themselves.
What a cruel twist of the “rules”.
What could be more intriguing than investigating with victims and then finding out you’re the killer?
No wonder every time Lu Chu slept, someone died the next day. It must be a characteristic set by the “rules.”
“I understand now,” Lu Chu said calmly, “In this game, either the player as the ‘Big Cat’ unknowingly kills everyone on the cruise, without anyone finding out the real culprit, thus clearing the level; or those investigating the case together find out the truth, and the player is killed by the survivors.”
When many survivors remain, being outnumbered and overwhelmed means the player’s death is inevitable.
Lu Chu had no memory of killing people in his sleep.
So he looked at 7 and asked, “Do the ‘rules’ give the player entering this game a setting that makes them the ‘Big Cat’ when they sleep, controlling the ‘ghost slaves’ as their minions and killing others in the game? Was I sleepwalking?”
7 nodded, explaining, “It’s similar to sleepwalking but appears to be awake. You can understand it as a second personality, but this personality has nothing to do with the player; it’s controlled by the ‘rules.'”
So that’s it.
The “rules” had indeed set up a large game for the player, making Lu Chu understand its cruel twists even more. It always found a way to bewilder and trap you in the game’s snares. On a cruise with over 2,000 passengers and 500 crew members, finding the “Big Cat” seemed easy, especially as more people died and clues increased. But normally, humans tend to trust themselves absolutely and exclude themselves from bad events, suspecting others. Admitting “I am the killer” requires significant psychological effort and time—time that death does not afford you.
Luckily, 7 was by his side.
“The detective seemed to have discovered the truth,” Lu Chu asked 7, “Did you kill him?”
7 gently caressed Lu Chu’s soft hair: “I ordered the chef.”
Lu Chu was puzzled, “Those people are either prey or ghost slaves, what about you?”
7 smiled, pinching Lu Chu’s warm earlobe, “Ghost slave.”
“Ghost slave?”
“Yes, ghost slave.”
Lu Chu understood, “I didn’t think of that.”
“Do you remember what I said,” 7 gazed into Lu Chu’s eyes with deep affection, “I said, I wouldn’t let that ‘Big Cat’ have a second ‘ghost slave.’ Even if he needs others to help lure prey or a versatile blade, that blade will only be me.”
Therefore, Mrs. He, the woman in Room 136, the doctor, and even Aili, had no reason to exist.
7 took Lu Chu’s left hand and kissed the back of it, “Lu Chu, I will be your sharp and only blade.”
“You don’t need to be afraid or worry, just go ahead.”
———
After talking with 7, Lu Chu knew his true identity, and thankfully, only he and 7 knew who the real “Big Cat” was.
Thinking back on the details of the events on the cruise, Lu Chu suddenly remembered he had never been to his room, and as a “ghost slave,” Aili had repeatedly told him to check his room.
This intrigued Lu Chu—he felt Aili was trying to tell him something.
So he and 7 went to his designated room. Using his key, Lu Chu opened the door and stepped inside.
As the door opened, a pungent smell of blood assaulted him, hitting his already sensitive nose. Expecting to see corpses, Lu Chu was surprised to find the room filled only with dried, dark red bloodstains, making the room look eerie and terrifying.
Having seen such scenes before, Lu Chu remained calm and walked inside.
After thoroughly checking the room, Lu Chu realized Aili’s intention: “It seems she genuinely thought I had a split personality and, seeing me get closer to you, intended to tell me the truth.”
Of course, Aili’s “truth” differed from reality.
The bed was piled with various notes, all filled with writing:
“Chu, you are as gentle and charming during the day as you are at night. I’m willing to offer my ignorant soul to you.”
“Chu, if you don’t come back to this room, I’ll fill it with my own blood and tell you the secret.”
“Chu, those people who died, we killed them because you told us to.”
“Chu, I am also your ghost slave, but why do you only trust him?”
Lu Chu sighed at Aili’s misplaced feelings—the second personality wasn’t him; it was the “rules.”
7 covered Lu Chu’s eyes from behind: “I don’t like her.”
Lu Chu followed 7 out of the room, locked it again, and turned to 7, “If Aili could enter without a key and leave these things, she must know how to pick locks.”
He chuckled, “Why am I saying this? It’s a useless discovery.”
If anyone found these things in his room, they’d immediately realize he was the culprit.
“When the ‘Big Cat’ kills all passengers and crew except the ghost slaves, the game ends successfully,” Lu Chu whispered, “Does that mean I have to kill over 2,000 people in my sleep, controlled by the ‘rules’?”
Thinking of the thousands of lives ending by his hand, Lu Chu’s hands felt cold.
He then asked 7, who had experienced all solo games, “How did you win? Did anyone discover your true identity?”
“When there were 1,932 passengers and 378 crew members left, I found out the killer was me, then—” 7’s tone was calm, “I spent one night killing them all.”
Outside the game.
