My name is Han Yimo.

I didn’t lie.

No, it seems I did tell some lies.

But that doesn’t matter anymore…

Can someone please come save me?

Damn it, my life is stuck!!

Why?! Who can tell me why this is happening?!

Why am I forever wandering through this same day?!

It’s a curse, right? Yes, it must be a curse born from that incident. Otherwise, I can’t explain this phenomenon at all.

But that incident really wasn’t my fault. I already deeply know I was wrong.

The problem is that no one has given me a single chance at redemption!

As the forum moderator of an old established forum, watching the daily decline in page views made me more anxious than anyone.

I really didn’t think that much about it at the time. I just wanted to make the forum more popular.

So I found a photo of a beautiful woman online and casually made up a story. Although the story I wrote was a bit unsavory, I swear it was completely fabricated by me—that girl didn’t know the uncle standing beside her at all.

But who could have thought that girl lived in the same city as me?!

Who could have thought this matter would spread faster than a plague?!

I clearly deleted the post immediately, but the internet users went out of control…

They were like leeches that had been starving for ages, suddenly seeing a piece of fatty meat oozing with blood, and swarmed upon it in a frenzy.

Countless people called this girl a slut, a whore, the Pan Jinlian of the new era.

There were even people who swore they knew other dirt on the girl, claiming one after another that they’d slept with her, describing it vividly and convincingly, even attaching several photos where the face couldn’t be seen clearly at all.

I never imagined human nature could be vile to such an extent, so I immediately posted a clarification. I said the previous story was fabricated by me, and that the girl and the uncle in the photo had no relationship whatsoever.

But my clarification post got very few views and quickly sank to the bottom.

I couldn’t stop the internet users’ doxxing of her at all. I even heard that many people found her home and spray-painted obscene insults all over the walls.

That girl couldn’t accept the massive amount of abuse and rumors both online and in reality, and ultimately committed suicide.

And my curse began from that day.

Three hours after the girl’s suicide, the entire earth began to shake, as if it were the wrath of the gods.

I clearly remember dying in the earthquake, but when I turned around, I had actually been dreaming. I dreamed that I entered a strange room.

What happened next was too terrifying. The game in that room was called “The Liar,” and the eight of us sat together, needing to vote to identify who was lying.

But no matter who I chose, I would ultimately be brutally killed by that goat-headed mask.

This dream was too realistic.

After being killed in the dream, I would return to the day before the earthquake, then watch that girl get cursed at by overwhelming waves of people, finally receive news of her suicide, then die in the earthquake, and then dream again.

Day after day, my life got stuck.

What kind of curse is this?

Why can this curse be so powerful?

Have I been hexed?!

After being killed by the goat-headed mask more than ten consecutive times, I couldn’t take it anymore.

I prepared to find a way to break the deadlock.

If I couldn’t free myself from this day, I would definitely go insane.

Since my curse originated from this girl, I prepared to save her in reality as much as possible.

After all, since I was wandering through the same day, I could know everything that would happen on this day.

Using information dug up by internet users, I came to the girl’s home. The place had already been ruined beyond recognition by those “justice warriors.”

The door was splashed with lots of red paint, and the walls were covered with the word “slut.”

When I knocked on the door, the first thing I saw was the girl’s fully armed parents. They had dark circles under their eyes, disheveled hair, and were holding kitchen knives and spatulas in their hands, as if prepared to fight someone to the death at any moment.

I told them my intentions, but they didn’t believe me. It wasn’t until I said I was the “rumor spreader” that their expressions changed.

I thought they would let me see the girl, but the girl’s father chopped me to death with a single slash.

I truly brought this disaster upon myself.

Who can understand how devastated I was?

After being chopped to death, I still couldn’t escape this curse—I had another damn dream!

Still that broken room! Still eight people! Still “The Liar”! Still death!

Damn it, who can tell me how I should choose?

I’m the damn liar myself!

This game has too many loopholes. Even if everyone votes for me, I die, and if they don’t vote for me, I still have to die.

I suspect this game exists solely to kill me.

During that period, I really was going crazy. Every time I opened my eyes, it was either before the earthquake or in that dark room.

I would die no matter what. I discovered that the Grim Reaper seemed to have his scythe at my neck, forcing me to do radio calisthenics—I’d die if I moved, and I’d die if I didn’t move.

I felt like I was about to collect every way to die in this world.

To escape this terrifying state, to avoid receiving that tragic news about the girl, I would lock myself in the wardrobe every time I woke up.

I knew avoidance wasn’t a good solution, but I truly couldn’t think of a better idea.

But gradually, I would see that girl’s photo in the pitch darkness.

It was like it had been carved into my eyeballs, impossible to shake off.

After a while longer, I could hear that girl’s voice.

She whispered in my ear, saying she was in great pain, saying she died so unjustly.

A few days later, I always felt that girl would stand beside me in the darkness.

I had never been this terrified in my entire life.

From then on, I could no longer enter enclosed and dark environments… Otherwise, that girl’s phantom would appear, telling me how unjustly she had died.

Yes, I know you died unjustly… I’m trying to find a way to save you!

It wasn’t until after more than thirty loops that I finally saved that girl.

But the cost of this rescue was a bit high, because I killed the girl’s parents who had been blocking me from seeing her.

I knew I had already gone mad. To save one person, I killed two people.

But did I have a better solution?

No, I didn’t. If I didn’t save this girl who was about to commit suicide, my curse would never be broken.

I told her that I did everything, hoping she could forgive me, but her mental state looked very poor, and she quickly became delirious.

She must have developed severe depression, with her mind now full of suicidal thoughts.

After another three to five loops, I finally found the correct method to save this girl.

First, I had to kill her parents, then tie the girl up to restrain her, then use a towel to gag her mouth to prevent her from biting her tongue to commit suicide. If possible, it was best to break her limbs—only then would it be safe.

Is this perverted?

Yes, extremely perverted.

Although I looked no different from a perverted serial killer, the ridiculous thing was… I was doing this to save this girl’s life.

But what the hell is this curse?!

I clearly saved the girl, I clearly let her live!

But the earthquake still came!

I came to the room in my dream again!

We had to vote again! It’s here again!

Get away from me!

Aaaaaaaaahhhhh!

Who can come save me?!

After looping about seventy or eighty times, I completely gave up the idea of saving that girl.

Because I discovered that no matter how many times I saved her, that terrible earthquake and nightmare would still come.

At this point, another thought sprouted in me… Could it be that my curse has nothing to do with the girl?

The nightmare at night is my curse?

To escape, I need to solve the “The Liar” game at night?

This thought invigorated me.

Could it be that I keep returning to this day because I haven’t chosen the correct “Liar”?