Cheng Shuili frowned.
There seemed to be no other character in this dungeon who could command such respect from the puppets.
So this woman... no, or rather, this entity that appeared in this scene, an artificial being that looked extremely like a human, was the director?
The director had returned?
Cheng Shuili's expression was grave. A Gentle Kiss was also not at ease. She could feel the woman's gaze on stage linger on her for quite a while before slowly shifting away to look at the one-way glass she had smashed open.
After pausing again for a moment, she moved her gaze to another spot, a position that looked just like a regular wall.
The players below might not have realized it, but both Cheng Shuili and A Gentle Kiss knew that it was also a one-way glass.
Behind that glass sat a guest in a VIP room, just like A Gentle Kiss.
Cheng Shuili could even guess that the mysterious player guest was staring right back at this director on stage.
She could clearly see the director's emotions; there was no expression on her face, only an indifference as if she were treating an object.
Cheng Shuili could not see the emotions of the guest inside that room, but she could guess with her toes that this person was definitely not feeling relaxed or happy right now.
The atmosphere was somewhat solidified. Although the players below were not being watched by the director, they seemed to feel the pressure of being directly stared at. They did not dare to breathe loudly, and even a single drop of sweat falling from their foreheads had to be handled with extreme caution, lest it disturb someone.
Amidst this heavy atmosphere, the director swept her gaze across the VIP boxes one by one.
Cheng Shuili followed her gaze and counted them one by one. Including the one belonging to A Gentle Kiss, there were eight boxes in total.
Counting the players who had died at the start, there were only twenty-some people who had come to the theater.
One had to know that those coming to participate in the full-server dungeon were almost all full ten-person teams. Even if there were only five teams, that would be fifty people.
To think that not even half had arrived at the theater...
And after arriving at the theater, so many people had already died in the first act.
Cheng Shuili sighed, but she also felt that a full-server dungeon ought to have this level of mortality.
After the director moved her gaze away from the last person, amidst the clear sound of breathing, she spoke: "Welcome, everyone, to the Silent Theater."
Her voice was very soft, as if she lacked the strength to speak loudly, yet in the incredibly quiet theater, this sentence was clearly transmitted into the ears of every player.
"I am the director here," the woman's face remained calm. Although her voice was low, her tone was steady, just as she could control her tongue so precisely to speak these words despite being unable to stand this body upright on her own: "You may address me as..."
The woman paused slightly, "The Puppeteer."
Although it was absurd, Cheng Shuili could not help but form a thought:
This director's limbs had a sense of stiffness, as if these parts were not her own. Yet her speech and gaze were fluid and precise, which only served to highlight that her body was not a part of her.
And as for this name, Cheng Shuili immediately thought of something more profound.
This thing was called "The Puppeteer," and the name itself formed a certain ironic echo with the theater's name, the Silent Theater.
Perhaps she was the very hand beneath the silence of the theater, manipulating all the clamor and death.
"I have no intention of disturbing your refined interests too much." The corners of The Puppeteer's mouth tugged upward ever so slightly; it was an arc that could be understood as a smile, "However, to ensure the smoothness and surprises of the subsequent performances, I need to first receive our esteemed VIP guests."
Her gaze, as if it were tangible, slowly landed on the first VIP box, counting from left to right.
Behind that one-way glass, there was dead silence.
The Puppeteer did not seem to expect a response either. She merely raised a hand, her pale, slender fingers making a light hooking motion in the air.
There was no sound, nor any flashy light effects.
Under the gaze of all the players, the one-way glass of that box seemed to dissolve silently.
The obscuring effect vanished, and everyone saw a player sitting upright in the box. He was wearing a black combat suit and a full-coverage metal mask on his face.
The player clearly had not expected to be exposed to the public eye in this manner. His body tensed instantly, assuming a defensive posture, his right hand already pressed against the protruding weapon handle at his waist.
The Puppeteer, however, acted as if she did not see his wariness, her tone remaining peaceful: "Do not be nervous, honored guest. According to the rules, I have no authority to harm any honored guest sitting in a VIP box during performance time."
She paused, then added: "Provided that... you are truly my honored guest, and not a thief muddying the waters."
The last two words fell like ice beads hitting the ground, knocking against everyone's hearts.
The atmosphere plummeted to freezing point.
Cheng Shuili was relaxed in her posture, even yawning out of boredom, before she seriously pondered the director's words.
Provided that they were truly honored guests?
Then... what determined whether one was an honored guest or not?
Cheng Shuili watched and waited.
After the metal-masked player heard the director's words clearly, the hand pressing on his weapon tightened abruptly, his knuckles turning white.
The air around him seemed to stagnate. An invisible pressure radiated from the woman on stage who called herself The Puppeteer, precisely locking onto him.
The Puppeteer maintained that same indifferent expression, as if that accusatory remark from just a moment ago had been merely a casual comment.
But everyone knew that this director who called herself "The Puppeteer" definitely harbored ill intentions. There was even a great possibility that she was the final boss of the entire dungeon!
The masked player seemed to realize this too. He frowned, his spine held straight, his fingernails digging into his flesh as he forced himself to calm down. His lips trembled twice, and he said: "I am, of course, an honored guest."
He had used all his strength to keep his voice steady, yet the subtle trembling in his tone remained obvious, carrying a sense of guilty lack of confidence.
Hearing him say this, The Puppeteer seemed to chuckle softly.
Her control over her facial expressions was not very good, so it was difficult to distinguish her expressions.
Cheng Shuili frowned slightly, feeling more and more that this monster had found a beautiful skin somewhere, but other than being nice to look at, it was completely useless.
She rested her chin on her hand, her gaze inadvertently sweeping over A Gentle Kiss. This person was also focused, but while an average person would either stare at The Puppeteer on stage or look at the targeted masked player,
She, on the other hand, was looking at the one-way glass that she had broken with her own hands.
She hadn't been afraid when she jumped down, nor had she been afraid when she was playing the hero, but now that it was time to settle the score, she was starting to get nervous?
Cheng Shuili curled her lips and continued to wait for the situation to develop.
On stage, the faint, flickering smile on The Puppeteer's face slowly faded.
She did not immediately refute or question the masked player, but simply stared at him unblinkingly with those eyes that were calm to the point of being hollow.
Time seemed to be stretched out.
Every second felt like a heavy hammer striking the masked player's heart, and cold sweat soaked the combat suit on his back. He could feel that it wasn't just the director on stage; the surviving players below, and perhaps even the gazes of others in the VIP boxes, were all focused on him, waiting for his ending.
"Very well." The Puppeteer finally spoke again, her voice remaining steady.
She raised her hand. This time, it was not a simple hooked finger.
Her five fingers moved as if plucking invisible strings, making several complex and eerie pulling motions in the air.
Inside the box where the masked player was, the air began to twist.
Walls, floors, chairs... the surfaces of all objects sprouted fine, dark red veins that resembled blood vessels. These veins squirmed like living things, emitting an unsettling aura.
"Then, please show me your purity." The Puppeteer said, "Prove to me that you were indeed invited, that you entered properly through the main gate, and are not a little rat that snuck in through the corridor."
The masked player's body began to tremble uncontrollably.
He wanted to move, to escape, but he found his limbs were as if filled with lead, firmly nailed to the spot by an invisible force.
He wanted to open his mouth to defend himself or beg for mercy, but his throat felt as if it were being choked, and he could only let out wheezing, gasping sounds.
Those dark red veins in the box, as if they had smelled blood, swarmed toward him.
The moment they touched his body, they did not cause any superficial damage, but the masked player's eyes widened abruptly, his pupils shrinking to the size of pinpricks due to extreme pain and fear.
"Ah!!!"
A shrill scream that did not sound human finally broke through his throat and exploded in the silent theater!
The pain and despair contained in that cry made the scalps of all the players below go numb and their hearts contract.
They watched helplessly as the masked player's body twitched violently on the seat, as if he were enduring some kind of extremely cruel punishment.
A few seconds later, the screaming stopped abruptly.
The masked player slumped on the seat, his head hanging low, motionless.
The metal mask on his face cracked with a click, then slowly slid off, revealing a young face beneath that was twisted and stiff from extreme fear.
His eyes were wide open, filled with a shock that he could not understand before his death.
The dark red veins in the box retreated like a receding tide and vanished.
Only the lifeless corpse and the mask, broken into two pieces, remained.
The Puppeteer acted as if she had just done something insignificant. She did not even look at the corpse much, her gaze shifting calmly to the third VIP box.
"Next." she said softly, her tone remaining flat and waveless.
The entire theater was deathly silent.
Only heavy and uneasy breathing rose and fell in the oppressive space.
A Gentle Kiss withdrew her gaze from the shattered glass and turned to look at The Puppeteer on stage who controlled life and death, a trace of gravity added to her eyes.
She seemed to be thinking about how this Puppeteer determined where the players had entered from.
And Cheng Shuili knew the answer to this question.
She had been puzzled about what the mark on the "Something Unspeakable" was for, but now...
Wasn't this where it was reflected?
If one walked through the corridor, one would encounter the monster that cleaned the corridor. As long as one obediently followed the rules and turned one's back to it, one would be marked by it.
In this way, The Puppeteer could easily determine where the players had come from.
In the time she had been pondering, The Puppeteer had already turned her gaze to the second player sitting in a VIP box.
The one-way glass of the second VIP box also dissolved silently.
Inside sat a middle-aged man with his hair combed meticulously. His face was pale, and fine beads of sweat seeped from his temples, but compared to the horror and loss of composure of the first player, he appeared much calmer, at least on the surface.
His hands were tightly gripping the armrests of the seat, his knuckles white. Because of his perspective, he could not see clearly what had happened in the first box, but the shrill scream that stopped abruptly and the subsequent deathly silence were enough to explain everything.
The smell of blood permeating the air was an even more silent warning.
The Puppeteer's gaze fell on him, still in that calm and scrutinizing posture.
"Honored guest?" she asked softly.
The middle-aged man's Adam's apple bobbed, his voice somewhat dry, but he tried his best to keep it steady: "Yes. I... I came in from the main gate, the front door."
He emphasized the words "front door," but his eyes could not help but glance toward the first box, then quickly shift away.
"Oh?" The Puppeteer was noncommittal. Her pale, slender fingers slowly raised again, her fingertips moving slightly, as if she were about to begin that eerie pulling motion again.
"Wait!" The middle-aged man almost roared, the sweat on his forehead sliding down his temples, "I have evidence! To prove that I didn't come in from the corridor!"
The Puppeteer's fingers stopped in mid-air.
She tilted her head slightly, seemingly having developed a trace of interest.
"Evidence?"
"Y-yes!" The middle-aged man explained at high speed, as if he had grasped a straw, "After I entered from the main gate, I first met the ticket collector, got my ticket, and only then was I brought to my seat by the usher!"
"This process... I, I remembered what the usher said to me, and the number on his uniform! Does that count as evidence?" As he spoke, he stared nervously at The Puppeteer's hands, fearing that those fingers would move again.
The Puppeteer watched him in silence, and no emotion could be seen in those hollow eyes.
A few seconds later, she slowly lowered her hand.
"What is the usher's number? What did he say to you?"
The middle-aged man answered rapidly as if reciting a lesson: "The number is thirteen. He said to me... 'Please proceed along the red carpet, honored guest.'"
After he finished, he held his breath nervously.
The Puppeteer listened without showing any indication, merely raising her hand once more.
But this time, the movement of her fingers seemed to have a clear difference.
On the walls of the box, those dark red veins appeared again, but the speed at which they squirmed was much slower, more like they were exploring something.
The veins spread slowly, stopping a few centimeters away from the middle-aged man's body, patrolling back and forth.
The middle-aged man stiffened his body, not daring to move, cold sweat soaking the shirt on his body.
A moment later, those dark red veins suddenly became violent.
On stage, The Puppeteer sneered, a trace of obvious brutality in her voice: "A rat that snuck in from the corridor actually toyed with my usher and still wants to deceive me!"
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