February 11, 1991
2:00 AM
I suddenly open my eyes, finding myself in my bed, drenched in cold sweat. Despite the strange circumstances, the first thing I do is say, "Open interface." My heart races with anticipation, and I can barely contain a joyful scream as the screen materializes before me.
[Obtain 5 enkephalins: 0/5]
A crooked smile spreads across my face. "What a wonderful opportunity~" I hum softly to myself as I rise from the bed and make my way toward the kitchen. There's no need for further contemplation as I grasp the sharpest knife I can find. I carefully run my finger along the blade, confirming its keen edge, and begin to devise my plan of action. After a few practice swings through the air, I tread quietly through the corridors, my steps as silent as possible, until I arrive at the director's office. My hand touches the doorknob and turns it slowly—great, the lock isn't secured. Seizing the moment, I scan the office, but only see useless, dusty items. I continue to stealthily approach Madame Vickerbottom's quarters.
I can already hear her soft snoring, and I stand a few meters from her bed. In a moment, knife in hand, I find myself hovering over her. The blade glimmers in the darkness, and... nothing. I can't bring myself to strike. Oh, I can't kill her... at least not while she sleeps. If I kill her in her sleep, she won't experience any emotions. I'm not an unfeeling machine; I can empathize with people. But right now, this is my best chance to complete the mission, and I have no desire to create a bloody mess tonight.
Pushing aside all my thoughts, I stab the knife directly into her liver. Her eyes fly open, and she tries to scream, but I quickly cover her mouth with my free hand. At that moment, when she looks into my eyes and comprehends the situation, I slash her throat. I wish I could have minimized her suffering and ended it with a clean stab to the heart, but first, that would yield fewer emotions, meaning I might not collect enough enkephalin. Second, I can't risk dulling my knife trying to pierce her heart through her ribs.
Leaving her gasping in her own blood, unable to make a sound, I exit her chamber, mentally noting that I need to return and search for money on the shelves. Wiping the blood off the knife with the nearest curtain, I continue down the corridor, a wave of nausea crashing over me as my hands begin to tremble.
Even with full moral readiness, I can't help but feel sick after my first murder. Even my voice shakes. Suppressing the urge to vomit but unable to steady my trembling hands, I now move even more slowly toward my and Eric's bedroom. Standing at the door, I reach for the doorknob when suddenly the familiar black-and-white screen appears before me.
[Mission Progress +1: 1/5]
I smirk at this outcome, and without hesitation, I swing the door open. My actions wake Eric, but he remains in a drowsy state.
"Eric, let's play! I'm so bored!" I realize my mistake and try to confuse him, getting as close as possible.
"Not now, Morpho, let me sleep a bit more..." I hear his sleepy voice from under the blanket, and then there's no movement. In one long stride, I approach his bed, yank the blanket away, and with a precise strike, I slash his throat. It feels like déjà vu, but lacking any experience with knives, I accidentally graze his cheek with the blade. His eyes widen, but before he can scream, I manage to deliver the blow to the right spot. On my third attempt... After standing over him for another ten seconds, I see another notification:
[Mission Progress +2: 3/5]
Looking at the strong bond the former owner of this body had with the red-haired boy, I conclude that two is the maximum I can obtain from ordinary people. "Rest in peace, Eric" I say these words before the cooling corpse, closing my eyes and trying to catch my breath. I remain in this position until the adrenaline in my blood subsides. Though I haven't known this boy for long, his death still brings me considerable sadness.
After this brief moment of mourning, I continue my bloody march. As much as I want to kill as few people as possible to obtain the last two enkephalins, I find myself needing to kill eleven more. About after the seventh murder, I stop feeling sorrow, and by the time I kill the last one, my conscience is no longer tormenting me. Completing my mission, I rush toward the director's office without checking my rewards, quickly scanning all the shelves and cabinets. In total, I gather 43 francs. Under the cover of darkness, I dash out of the shelter and disappear into the night, heading toward the nearest port, hiding the knife beneath my clothing. The street clock shows 3:46 AM.
As I navigate through the shadowy streets, the weight of what I've done begins to settle in. Each step feels heavier, but the thrill of the mission fuels me. I can still hear the echoes of their last breaths, the fleeting expressions of shock and fear etched into my memory. I remind myself of the goal, of the enkephalins, of the power I can gain. I push forward, determined to leave this place behind and embrace whatever awaits me in the darkness.
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