Eldritch Horror Theatre

One of the core differences between dreams and reality was that the former was far more subjective, making appearances all the more unreliable.

As a Dream Dominator with experience managing multiple projects, Fu Qian had always understood this deeply.

So the moment he realized this place might not be real, he considered breaking out his ultimate weapon—conspiracy theories—to raise his guard.

Doubt all causality, dismiss all surface posturing, and assume every action harbors an ulterior motive.

He had even recently conversed with an expert in this field, Madam Sissi, and benefited greatly from the exchange.

Once he adopted this perspective, the more perfectly reasonable something seemed on the surface, the more likely it concealed a shocking conspiracy in the shadows.

Take the conclusion he had drawn right at the start: none of the information the others provided contradicted each other.

A positive interpretation would naturally assume they were genuinely hiding from the darkness and, for various motives, had collectively offered valuable information to him, an outsider.

But if he assumed they were all villains, their actions took on a completely different meaning: using distinct attitudes and flawless acting to do everything possible to coax him into staying inside the Church.

From this angle, even Madam Bride—who superficially held opposing views and acted as if she would go mad when he refused to step outside—was merely playing the role of a textbook negative example.Then there was the atmosphere builder who hadn’t made a single sound the entire time.

All four played their respective roles flawlessly, leaving no trace of deception.

Logically speaking, both interpretations made perfect sense.

And since the mission objective still hadn’t appeared, he couldn’t use it as a basis for judgment just yet.

But that didn’t mean he had no way to verify things. Why not try turning someone’s tactics back upon them? He could play a two-faced role himself, leave them guessing, and observe their reactions.

His decision to directly hand over the elixir just now had been exactly that kind of move.

According to the first interpretation, even though Madam Bride had appeared incredibly stable just now, her mind had actually long since shattered under the encroaching darkness.

And after her second invitation to ”elope” was ruthlessly rejected, this twisted madness could no longer remain hidden. In a fit of explosive rage, she decided to destroy his survival item as revenge.

Faced with such a situation, the normal reaction would naturally be to tuck the item safely away and never let her succeed. Instead, he had chosen to hand it directly to her.

Confronted by this abnormal behavior, Madam Bride had been forced to painstakingly guess his true intentions and make a choice on how to handle the potion, giving him the perfect opportunity to observe her.

So, what choice would prove that this wasn’t the first scenario, and that his conspiracy theory was correct?

He didn’t need to look for a specific choice. The mere fact that she ”guessed” was proof enough.

Why would a lunatic in an uncontrollable outburst pause to figure out his true intentions over a minor behavioral anomaly?

Unless her madness was nothing but an act.

...

Madam Bride’s only choice to keep the situation complicated and bewildering would have been to destroy the item the instant he handed it to her.

And although she had tried to salvage the situation afterward—even resorting to the highly visually impactful act of chugging the potion—it couldn’t erase her prior break in character.

Even if her final choice seemed utterly insane, a mere shift to an observer’s perspective made one thing glaringly obvious: her action was the choice practically guaranteed to inflict the maximum psychological pressure on him—

She had showcased her madness once more to salvage her persona, all while naturally introducing an even more terrifying entity lurking deep within the darkness.

For instance, the ”It” that was supposedly ravaging her.

In short, as far as Fu Qian was concerned, she had only exposed herself further by trying to cover it up.

Furthermore, despite its erratic fading in and out, the sound had still been faintly drawing closer to his location.

Yet, throughout Fu Qian’s open and relaxed wait, ”It” had never actually come close enough.

That was, until a flickering candlelight sparked to life from nothingness in the darkness, swiftly overtaking his vision as it danced wildly.

...

Interesting indeed.

Once the blaze of light in his vision finally receded, Fu Qian easily noticed that it hadn’t been a real candle flame at all. Instead, it was a Reflection in a pair of glossy, moist eyes—eyes that also mirrored his own image.

What was even more peculiar was that these eyes didn’t belong to a living person.

She wore a thick robe and a black veil, her red lips strikingly alluring.

It was an appearance extremely similar to Hilaria from the Church’s Underground, but with a much more petite frame. It was a Doll sitting right across from him.

And it wasn’t the only one.

He was currently inside a wooden cabin, seated facing one of its corners.

Including ”Hilaria,” a total of five distinct Dolls formed a semicircle around him.

Unsurprisingly, the remaining four—a bride, an old woman, a middle-aged man, and a dejected figure—were the very refugees from the Church.

Just like ”Hilaria,” all of their eyes were locked onto him, reflecting the dancing flames within.

”You need to cooperate with the treatment. You won’t get better like this.”

Right at that moment, an unfamiliar voice sounded from behind him.

It didn’t sound young, and it carried a malicious tone completely devoid of any noble, life-saving medical ethics.

Fortunately, Fu Qian couldn’t care less about that; he only focused on the wealth of information those words carried.

So, his entire experience just now had actually been a treatment process, and the person behind him was the real doctor?

It made sense. If you were sick, you went to a Clinic; relying on the feudal superstitions of a religious building just wouldn’t cut it.

With that thought in mind, Fu Qian turned around.

It truly was a place laid out like a Clinic.

Aside from a wide assortment of bottles and jars, a quick glance revealed a diagnostic Deck Chair, as well as an examination bed with a metal frame and leather upholstery.

Amidst all the clutter stood a scrawny man with green eyes, gray hair, and an unusually long chin, eyeing him with a bizarre expression.

...

”Hehe. Do you remember me? I’m your attending physician, Dorian.”

Meeting Fu Qian’s gaze, the man actively spoke up again to introduce himself.

”Sorry, I don’t.”

Uninterested in playing along, Fu Qian simply shook his head in complete honesty.

”That’s fine. It’s completely normal to forget things after drinking that potion; otherwise, the treatment couldn’t proceed at all.”

Showing no signs of displeasure, Dorian expressed his understanding and even gestured toward Fu Qian’s side.

So, it also required an Amnesia Potion?

With a treatment method like this, wasn’t he afraid of his patients forgetting to pay their medical bills?

Spotting an empty bottle sitting nearby, Fu Qian couldn’t help but inwardly roast the setup.

”But I am a bit curious. How did you know the treatment would end once you spent enough time in the darkness?”

Dorian had suddenly thought of something and looked genuinely intrigued.

”I didn’t. I just have a very rebellious streak.”

Once again, Fu Qian’s response was terrifyingly honest.

”Everyone was dead set against me going outside, which naturally made me want to see exactly what ’It’ was... Sadly, it never ended up showing itself.”