Rule Horror descends, and I’m chosen to represent the Dragon Nation.
A global livestream begins. If I fail, my nation’s fortune declines; if I succeed, the whole country soars.
While all the other chosen players tread carefully through the eerie rules, trembling with fear...
I pull out the medical file I brought from the psychiatric hospital.
[Diagnosis: Intermittent mental hyperarousal, accompanied by a restructuring of logical cognition]
The doctor added a note to my file:
“This patient believes that eerie rules are meant to be broken.”
So...
The rules say: “Do not enter the ward at night.”
I bring a stereo and throw a midnight party in the ward. The monster crouches in the corner and cries.
The rules say: “Do not trust the reflection in the mirror.”
I swear brotherhood with my reflection, and it helps me trick three life-saving charms out of someone.
The rules say: “There are no meat dishes in the cafeteria. Do not eat any you see.”
I slap the “braised pork” onto the face of the doctor making his rounds. He spits it out and says he never wants to eat meat again.
While the chosen players from other countries are still working out the first rule, I’ve already forced the monsters to revise their rulebook.
Before dying, the chosen player from the Land of Sakura leaves a message: “That person from the Dragon Nation... I think he’s broken the game.”
Viewers from the Land of Kimchi protest: “He must be cheating! How could a normal person clear it like that?”
The Dragon Nation’s livestream chat floods with comments: “Jiang Chen, please stop being such a menace! You’re going to make the monsters mad enough to come back to life!”
Then, in the final dungeon, the source of the monsters appears in person.
It coldly reads aloud an absolute rule: “All acts of defiance are forbidden here.”
I raise my medical file and ask with a smile:
“Hello. I’m mentally ill.”
