I've become a beautiful NPC

The screen of the mobile phone was filled with noisy snowflakes, and the image appeared dim and blurry, as if playing an old tape from a distant time.

A man in a suit and leather shoes raced through the rainy night, the roaring engine drowning out the sound of heavy objects falling. The wheels bumped, but the man laughed wildly, not only did he not stop, but he excitedly rolled over.

The wheels crushed bones, dark red blood splattered on the car body, quickly washed away by the pouring rain, leaving only a vague dark red flesh in the rainy night.

In the next moment, the scene changed. The man was running frantically on the street, his worn and dirty suit, hair messy on his face, nervously looking around, eyes bloodshot, full of fear and distress.

The roar of the engine pursued him from behind at a steady pace, the man trembled in fear, his teeth chattering. He looked back, in the pitch-black behind him, something wriggled towards him on the ground.

The man widened his eyes, desperately fleeing, but no matter where he hid, the sound of the engine and that thing followed him like a shadow, like maggots on bones.

In the pouring rain, the man knelt and begged for mercy, only to be greeted by the familiar roar of the engine exploding in his ears, a speeding luxury car rolling over him.

The screen did not stop because of the man's death.

After a brief darkness, in a narrow and gloomy alley, the figure of a man gradually became clear.

He staggered with a bottle of alcohol, hiccuping, walking unsteadily. He stopped at the end of the alley, fell on the steps, and banged on the door.

The sound was deafening, making people tremble in the silent night.

The door remained unmoved, the man became furious, he stood up and kicked it fiercely. The old wooden door couldn't bear the weight, emitting a sour sound, swaying as if about to collapse.

The man kicked again, and the wooden door, unable to bear the weight, fell to the ground.

In the dim room, a frail little boy curled up in the corner, lifted his eyes from his arms, watching the man shivering in fear.

The man staggered towards him, cursing, grabbing the boy's head and smashing it hard against the wall, again and again, blood staining the wall red, the boy's struggling arms gradually hanging down.

The scene shifted, one of the man's feet was tied to an iron pillar, next to him was a machete, and above the man's head hung a huge transparent container, moths accidentally falling into the liquid, blinking and turning into blood.

It's sulfuric acid! The man swallowed hard, the container kept tilting, he struggled desperately. But the iron chain was firm, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't escape the range of the container, unless...

The man's gaze turned to the knife beside him, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead, constantly swallowing saliva, tremblingly picked up the knife and chopped it towards his leg.

The blade was blunt, stuck in the bone and couldn't be pulled out. The man screamed in pain, his voice accelerating the tilt of the container, clang...

The screen suddenly dimmed, and the next second it lit up again.

This time, a pair of fair and slender hands appeared, tapping out a series of comments on the keyboard, all filled with vicious and nauseating words.

-- You don't even look in the mirror, you're so ugly, how dare you go out like this? Why don't you just die?

-- Watching two men cp all day, disgusting, isn't it?

-- I think he deserves it! Living is a waste of resources, why not just die?

The scene stopped here, blood-red words appeared, eerie and terrifying.

[Welcome all players to enter the instance "Terror Live Room".]

[Those who owe debts always have to repay them.]

[Once in debt, you will be chosen by the Terror Live Room, witnessed by thousands of viewers.]

[Mission: Survive seven days or find the owner of the Terror Live Room.]

[Friendly reminder: Each person only has one chance to identify, once identified incorrectly, bad things will happen~]

...

On an invisible screen, the scene was exactly the same as the third clip just played on the phone, but this time the screen was not dim, it looked like a normal live broadcast.

The audience watching the screen started to get excited here, and words began to flash on the screen.

[Is this the keyboard warrior this time?]

[Self-harming online just because one's own life isn't going well, like rats in the gutter, truly despicable.]

[What kind of death will it be this time? I guess being gnawed to death by rats would be most fitting for his identity.]

This sentence seemed to set off a barrage of comments, with the live chat room now flooded with suggestions for the method of death, each string of text appearing cold and merciless.

[I think dismemberment would be best, such a beautiful scene.]

[I think cutting off his typing hands, letting him watch himself bleed to death would be better.]

The chat was discussing the death of the commentator, with no one finding it too cruel, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, sending chills down the spine.

...

Ruan Qing sat in front of the computer desk with his head bowed, allowing his long hair to cover his expression. He silently watched the prompt information about the instance on his phone without speaking a word.

He had never seen anyone unluckier than himself, not only being chosen by a terrifying game, but also becoming a special player who had to play the role of an NPC.

Not a crucial NPC, nor a boss-level antagonist NPC, but a player who was marked for death from the start, only waiting to die to give other players warnings and clues as an NPC.

While other players might still have a chance to find a way out, he was the unlucky one targeted by the boss right from the start.

One wrong move and he might not survive the first day.

Just like now.

This was only his first instance, and he was already chosen by the Terror Live Room.

He became the player portraying the NPC keyboard warrior selected by the Terror Live Room as the next target.

In other words, the next one to die would be him.

If he couldn't find a way out, his instance would end as soon as it started.

What was even more unfortunate was that this instance was reading data from his own body.

And Ruan Qing's original body, due to years of illness, had long become weak and fragile, the kind that couldn't even run for ten minutes without wheezing.

If he encountered a pursuit-type death like in the first video, he would be dead in the first second.

Ruan Qing asked the game system in his mind about everything he had just been told, his voice showing no panic despite this hellish start, instead cold and indifferent, [What will happen if I die in the instance?]

The game system's voice had no warmth, as if it were just an emotionless intelligence, [Lose your memory and become a true NPC in the instance, forever trapped in the instance.]

Ruan Qing remained silent.

Lose his memory...

Once a person loses their memory, can they still be considered the same person as before?

In Ruan Qing's view, it's impossible.

That's good then.

Ruan Qing pulled his legs up and curled up in the chair, his hands hugging his knees as he bowed his head and closed his eyes slowly.

The teenager on the chair seemed out of place in this rundown room, his hair too long, giving him a gloomy appearance, his body somewhat slender. This curled-up posture inexplicably evoked a sense of pity, making people unable to help but focus their gaze on him.

But no matter how pleasing this scene may seem, it was clearly a posture of waiting for death.

System:...

The system reminded, [In the game, anything is possible. As long as you clear enough instances, you can get what you want.]

The teenager on the chair didn't move, as if he hadn't heard.

Clearly refusing to cooperate, just wanting to quietly wait for death.

The system remained silent for a few seconds before speaking again, [Although memory has been erased, occasionally you may remember.]

Ruan Qing, who was already prepared to die: "..."

Ruan Qing wasn't afraid of death, nor was he afraid of losing his memory.

What he feared was regaining his memory after losing it.

That would be a disaster.

All of this was because of his physical condition.

Ruan Qing's physique was very strange, attracting the attention of some psychopaths and paranoid individuals wherever he went.

He was afraid of attracting a bunch of perverts without memories, which wouldn't matter if he didn't remember, after all, he wouldn't be himself without memories, so it wouldn't matter how he was treated.

But if he were to remember...

Just thinking about that scene made Ruan Qing's scalp tingle.

He absolutely couldn't die.

At least not in the instance.

But now it was almost certain death.

Selected by the Terror Live Room, he could never survive for seven days, and identifying the owner of the Terror Live Room would take even more time.

What Ruan Qing lacked the most right now was time.

Because he didn't know when his death would come.

Ignoring the discomfort in his stomach, Ruan Qing didn't rashly lift his head, but instead glanced around with his peripheral vision.

The room was somewhat dilapidated, probably only about ten square meters in size. There weren't many furnishings inside, just a bed next to him and a desk with a computer.

The bed was made of randomly assembled wooden boards, and the table was also one of those wooden ones that could easily be pushed apart with a little force.

If someone were to break in, there would be nothing to buy him any time.

As for the toilet, Ruan Qing couldn't even consider it. The toilet had no windows or exits. Once inside, there was no possibility of escape, only waiting for death.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!!!" A loud knocking suddenly broke the silence.

Startled, Ruan Qing raised his head, revealing a pair of watery eyes and a face so dazzling that it seemed to instantly dim the world. He turned abruptly to look at the door not far behind him.

The door being knocked on was the door to his room.

Ruan Qing bit his lip, the pale lips stained with a hint of redness from the bite, as if injecting the decadent and gorgeous peach blossoms into the ink-colored scroll.

They've come so quickly...

And the live stream room, which had just been discussing various ways for Ruan Qing to die, seemed to freeze in the moment of beauty, with the cruel and heartless words disappearing, replaced by an eerie silence.

A few scattered comments appeared two or three seconds later.

[I don't think he deserves to die, just because he insulted someone? He didn't even cause any harm, what's with all the fuss? (Whispering)]

[I agree, I don't think he seems like a bad person. (Whispering agreement)]

These two sentences instantly sparked another frenzy in the barrage.

[???]

[??? What's going on?]

[What's wrong with you guys? Just because he's good-looking!? Haven't you heard that looks can be deceiving? What does being good-looking have to do with whether he's a good person?]

[...Setting aside the facts, do you guys really think he's just good-looking?]

[Keyboard warriors should die! Even if they look good, their ugly hearts are still repulsive!]

The barrage erupted into chaos once again, with most viewers still suggesting Ruan Qing's death, while the minority of viewers swayed by his appearance gradually fell silent due to their small number.

But none of this mattered to Ruan Qing, as the knocking on the door sounded once again.

And it seemed to be getting more urgent, as if it would break down the door and barge in the next second.

The barrage was drawn back to the knocking sound, and the audience once again began suggesting various ways for Ruan Qing to die, with some viewers even starting a betting pool.

All the viewers in the live stream room were watching the screen, eagerly anticipating the next development.

Author's Note:

Ruan Qing is not a keyboard warrior, he is a player. He just happened to be unlucky enough to become the NPC who plays the keyboard warrior! He himself hasn't done anything wrong.

Focus on this! Look at the eating guide!

Ruan Qing isn't stupid, nor is he weak in heart. Most of his actions are forced by circumstances. Given the chance, he can fight back. Any show of weakness is due to insufficient firepower! (However, he's scared of ghosts; when he sees one, his mind goes blank. Without ghosts, it's his home field.) He's also not the bottom, any intimate contact is with the top, all right!

Also, it's not no CP, it's not no CP, it's not no CP. I write DMs for shipping, and this text has a slow romance line, because the text itself is a bit long, but there is absolutely no problem with the romantic line.