Every Person I Save Costs Me a Memory

My name is Lin Yan. I used to be the QA lead at a gaming company. Now I'm the leader of a dungeon party, accused of being a traitor by the other five members. The monsters aren't scary. I have a handwritten list of bugs. Every monster has a flaw in its logic. If I trigger the bugs on my list one by one, it'll get stuck in its own rules. Using that list, I saved the first person.

Then I forgot his name.

After saving the second person, I forgot what I looked like in the year I joined the company.

After saving the third, I forgot how I'd proved my innocence. The more people I save, the more I look like the culprit.

My teammates throw a bug report bearing my name in my face. "You wrote this dungeon."

They're right. It's my handwriting.

But on the last page of the list, in a line I hold down with all my might, refusing to let anyone see, it says: They were never supposed to get out.

Six people, six rules, six memories. Do I get them out alive, or leave the truth behind?

Theme: Tension, then doubt, then the thrill of seeing the rules crack for the first time