The rabbit-headed Inspector laughed, unsurprised by Bai Youwei’s reaction.

“You may give up,” it said. “This game instance has already been decommissioned — it won’t force you to participate.”

Bai Youwei thought for a moment, then asked out of curiosity: “If the game’s setting and rules were both fine, why was it decommissioned?”

“Because the clear rate exceeded 30%,” the Inspector explained. “If the difficulty isn’t sufficient, the selection process loses its meaning. So this one was retired.”

Bai Youwei couldn’t help pressing further: “What exactly are you selecting players for, anyway?”

At this question, the rabbit-headed Inspector smiled again and answered: “To help you all live better lives.”

Hearing that kind of answer, Bai Youwei immediately pursed her lips. “If you can’t say, just say so — no need to be cryptic about it.”

“Once you reach the final tournament, you’ll understand,” the Inspector replied with a smile.

…The final tournament? That still felt very far off.

Bai Youwei ran a quiet mental calculation. The first battle was still three weeks away. Given the format of one-on-one matchups, if battles averaged roughly one per month, the final tournament would be at least four months out.

Almost half a year.

When she thought about it, from when the dollhouse game first appeared to now was also only about half a year — and yet the world had already become utterly unrecognizable…

Time had slipped away the way money did — before you knew it, it was just gone.

“Would you like to give this game a try?” the Inspector asked her.

Bai Youwei snapped back to the present. She looked once more at the chandelier hanging high above, let out a disdainful huff, and said: “Of course I’ll play. It’s so simple — why wouldn’t I?”

She walked a circuit along the walls, studying the structure of the entire building.

A clear rate over 30% meant many people had already won. There was no reason she couldn’t.

Climbing straight up was obviously out of the question. Even if she made it to the top by some miracle, the curved dome overhead would block her.

But this building was constructed of blocks — which meant she could change its structure.

Of course, doing so would require her to be extremely careful.

Because the moment she moved a load-bearing block, the entire structure might collapse — and she would be crushed to death beneath it.

Bai Youwei examined everything very carefully. Then she began pulling blocks out from the walls — ones she judged wouldn’t affect the structure.

Block after block, she extracted them as though playing a game of jenga, stacking them in layers to form the base of a spiraling staircase.

In theory it was simple enough; in practice, it wasn’t easy at all.

The blocks were large and heavy, tiring to move — and some of them were positioned high up. Getting to those required not just physical strength but technique.

It was a good thing Bai Youwei’s legs had healed. Otherwise this game would have been completely beyond her.

Having a partner to help would be nice.

She thought this, and her mind drifted involuntarily to Teacher Cheng…

A perfectly healthy body that now bore the traits of a merman… Was there still any chance of recovery, going forward?

This time it was Teacher Cheng. Next time, who might it be? Tan Xiao, Pan Xiaoxin, Shen Mo, Ashalina… or someone else? In the end, she couldn’t guarantee that everyone would walk away unscathed from every game or maze. When sacrifice became inevitable, would the path to advancement be one of heartrending anguish?

Bai Youwei stopped. She sat down on the staircase she had built, rested her chin on her hand, and took a break.

“What’s the matter?” the rabbit-headed Inspector asked her.

“Tired,” she answered offhandedly, languid and unhurried. “There’s no time limit anyway — I’ll take my time building.”

The rabbit-headed Inspector smiled, and asked nothing more.

But Bai Youwei turned to look at it, hesitating for a moment before asking: “Can the maze… cure anything? Is there any illness it can’t treat?”

“Why do you ask that?” the Inspector replied with a smile. “The maze is not a doctor.”

“But it healed my legs,” Bai Youwei said.

The Inspector shook its head slowly: “That’s not called treatment. It’s a form of enhancement. It systematically analyzes the microscopic cells within your body, then guides your body toward a state of perfection.”

—