He carried his tray forward, but suddenly a hand pulled him out of the food line.

Brian Brooks was stunned. Olivia Harris tugged him along while saying, “From now on, you don’t need to line up with them anymore. Anyone who can play chess with the boss doesn’t need to wait in line.”

The prisoners on both sides silently watched this scene, everyone’s gaze fixed tightly on Brian Brooks.

The once noisy environment instantly fell silent, as if everyone was holding their breath.

At that moment, they realized that Brian Brooks was no longer the same as them.

Olivia Harris squatted on the chair next to Brian Brooks, grinning as he said, “Don’t be surprised. Anyone who can play chess with the boss naturally gets some special treatment. Hurry up and eat, though the food in Prison 18 isn’t tasty at all.”

Brian Brooks looked up at Emily Thompson across from him. The other man was eating slowly, showing no intention of talking to him.

He glanced back at the crowd, and in the line, John Miller was quietly giving him a thumbs up...

...

At 8:40 p.m., Brian Brooks returned to his cell at the designated time.

While everyone else was lining up to return to their rooms, he tried breaking away from the group to move freely. Sure enough, the mechanical guards no longer paid him any attention.

The prisoners all looked at him with envious eyes. Brian Brooks walked down the long corridor like a lone, independent wolf.

The single-person cell was empty. After the alloy gate closed, he walked to the sink to brush his teeth and wash his face.

But after just a few steps, he suddenly felt an intense wave of drowsiness.

This sleepiness was highly unusual. Even if he had overused his brain during the day, it shouldn’t have been so overwhelming that his willpower couldn’t support him.

Something was wrong!

Before he could think further, Brian Brooks collapsed to the ground.

In his dream, Brian Brooks stood wide awake in the dimly lit living room of a villa.

At first, he knew it was a dream and was very clear that his body was still in the prison cell.

But after two seconds, he forgot everything, as if he was supposed to be here, no longer remembering it was a dream.

There was firewood burning in the fireplace in the villa’s living room. The room had a unique damp smell, the moisture inside being baked and evaporated by the fireplace, condensing on the ceiling.

A crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling, but Brian Brooks couldn’t find its switch no matter how he looked around.

As he glanced around, Brian Brooks’s pupils suddenly contracted.

There were bloodstains on the stairs to the second floor.

The sofa in the living room was covered in cat scratch marks, the leather slashed open again and again by sharp claws.

On the mantelpiece above the fireplace sat a picture frame, its glass shattered, the photo inside missing.

There were bluish-gray knife marks on the wall. When the flames in the fireplace flickered, the marks on the wall and the slashes on the sofa twisted eerily.

On the carpet lay a bloodstained dagger.

Someone had written two striking characters in blood on the floor next to the carpet: 有鬼 (“ghost here”).

Knock, knock, knock—a knocking came from the door.

Brian Brooks took a deep breath. He didn’t touch anything in the room as he walked toward the door. “Who is it?”

A relaxed voice came from outside: “Police, badge number 27149. Did you call the police? Please open the door.”

Brian Brooks hesitated but opened the door. Outside stood a young police officer, holding a case notebook.

As soon as the officer entered, he saw blood flowing down the stairs to the second floor. He quickly walked up the stairs, saying as he went, “Caller, please stay where you are and lock the door!”

Brian Brooks was a bit confused, but for some reason, his subconscious obeyed the instructions.

The young officer went upstairs, and Brian Brooks remained standing at the door.

Not even half a minute later, there was another knock at the door.

Brian Brooks asked, “Who is it?”

“Police, badge number 27149. Did you call the police? Please open the door.”

Brian Brooks froze. Wasn’t badge number 27149 already upstairs...? Then who was outside?!

The officer outside urged, “Hello, please open the door.”

Brian Brooks took another deep breath and walked back into the room. He tried to bend down and pick up the bloodstained dagger on the floor, but it was as if there was a transparent barrier between him and the dagger.

He was only a step away from the dagger, yet could never touch it.

Someone didn’t want him to have the knife.

Someone wanted to trap him here.

But the countdown to return on his arm was still ticking, and his heart and blood were still beating and flowing.

He had come alone, with no attachments, to this cold mechanical world. There was no turning back.

“Get out of my way,” Brian Brooks said coldly, his pupils contracting again, as if all his courage had turned into a sharp blade, slicing through something.

A strange sound of shattering glass echoed in the empty villa living room, and the barrier between him and the dagger broke.

Someone let out a soft “huh.”

Brian Brooks picked up the knife and turned toward the stairs.

Outside the door, the police officer shouted, “Open the door, caller! Why won’t you open the door for me?”

Brian Brooks replied coldly, “I’ll open it after I kill the one inside.”

Olivia Harris: “???”

At that moment, Brian Brooks finally remembered—when he broke through the barrier to grab the knife, he also broke through the nightmare’s block on his memory.

It turned out he was inside the nightmare that Olivia Harris had created for him.