You’re Telling Me This Is a Slice-of-Life?

[That’s a pretty blunt way to put it.]

Yuuki’s lips twitched. In plain terms, it was just possessiveness. Their intel exchange after regrouping was something he had carefully orchestrated.

He had spoken the truth—after all, even he didn’t fully understand his own Innate Trait. Hayasaka Ai had lied, as she needed to maintain her persona as a useless individual who uses transactional relationships.

Only Sakurajima Mai exaggerated things, almost taking full credit for their successful breakout. Li Dan didn’t know, but perhaps from years of being in the spotlight, Mai naturally carried a skill called ‘Moral Perception’.

From what they had gathered so far, Innate Traits were incredibly useful, though some weren’t well-suited for the current situation.

Take that rich guy, for example—his Innate Trait allowed him to duplicate money, regardless of denomination or material. Undoubtedly, that was an overpowered ability. In a more normal world, he could solve any problem just by throwing cash at it.

Unfortunately, in this world, it was completely useless.

But Sakurajima Mai’s Adolescence Syndrome was different. In a world where constant escape was necessary, the ability to disappear from the sight of the ghouls could significantly increase survival rates.

Not to mention, if he didn’t have the restriction of not being able to act alone, giving himself that Innate Trait would allow him to breeze through this scenario while singing and eating hotpot.

“Looking at it this way, Li Dan is suspicious.”

“No kidding. Who in this scenario isn’t suspicious? Even among the three of us, can we say we trust each other completely?” Yuuki found it amusing. He had never trusted veteran players to begin with—or rather, dealing with them was even more nerve-wracking than escaping.

Hayasaka Ai raised an eyebrow, then nodded slightly. She felt Yuuki had a point.

Even after experiencing life-and-death situations together, the three of them still had their reservations. Expecting a veteran player to bare his soul to them? That was just naive—what, did they think he was some kind of saint?

It was natural for the two veteran players to have contact with each other. Their relationship might not seem great on the surface, but in a crisis, their strength still surpassed that of new players. However, there were two key questions:

First, why did Li Dan lie? At least from a surface-level perspective, Yuuki was more reliable and should have been the one he confided in.

Second, how deep was their connection? Would they betray the group and join forces to survive?

“No need to worry. Mai has already proven her value—he won’t be able to leave us behind. If he tries to win her over, we’ll see it coming and be prepared.”

“Right. She’s the bait. The greater her value, the more Li Dan relies on us. That means we’re all in the same boat.” Hayasaka Ai relaxed slightly. After spending so much time together, she at least believed that Sakurajima Mai wouldn’t switch sides so easily.

“But there’s one more thing—I have a feeling Li Dan is starting to be wary of me.”

“Because of your Innate Trait?” Hayasaka Ai asked curiously. She knew the whole Akina Speed Star thing was a lie—after all, she had been the one driving.

“Not necessarily. Judging by Li Dan’s reaction, there are probably quite a few similar abilities.” Yuuki glanced at his panel, staring at the section for Innate Trait. He still wasn’t sure whether his luck was good or bad.

Hayasaka Ai didn’t dwell on it and asked another question, “Then that means one of us isn’t acting convincingly enough?”

Yuuki pressed his lips together. The three of them shared one common skill—acting. In fact, it felt like a battle of wits where they kept sharpening each other’s skills.

“It’s not about acting. It might just be a problem with Li Dan himself. But regardless, we need to use him while keeping our guard up.”

“How? We don’t even know how many dungeons he’s been through or how many tricks he has up his sleeve.”

That was the most frustrating part for Yuuki. Not only did they have to deal with the dungeon, but they also had to watch their backs against their own teammates. And the latter was the harder challenge.

The ghouls might look terrifying, but those two veteran players had already killed over a hundred of them. On top of that, since they were in the same position, whatever Yuuki had, the others likely had as well—if not more.

“We have our own cards to play, even if we have fewer of them.” Yuuki steadied his breathing, then slowly slid his fingers down.

The sensation against his skin started feeling strange. Hayasaka Ai shifted her shoulders slightly, her expression flickering for a brief moment.

Professionalism was one thing, composure was another. But she wasn’t a robot. The physical feedback made her breathing grow heavier—there was no way she could fake that reaction.

“Hey, I’m serious now.”

Those words snapped Hayasaka Ai back to reality. Her gaze turned ice-cold, tinged with irritation. Without hesitation, she placed her hand on Yuuki’s stomach—and squeezed.

“—Hhhss! Ahhh—!”

A suppressed yet oddly ecstatic sound escaped, loud enough to startle those who had been pretending to sleep in the ventilation duct.

[He finally came. Did these damn kids not care about time or place?]

Li Dan instantly sat up, glancing at his watch. “That’s enough. We’re moving out. Hasaka, check the enemy’s positions.”

“Ugh, I still wanna sleep. Besides, there’s no signal here—how am I supposed to check?” Hayasaka Ai rubbed her eyes as she sat up, calmly buttoning her top. She pressed her hands together in mock pleading. “Brother Li, just five more minutes? No, three minutes, please?”

Now she’s tired?

Li Dan shot a glance at Yuuki, who looked far too pleased with himself, silently telling him to keep his woman in check. Then, he turned his attention to Sakurajima Mai, whose cheeks were tinged with red, clearly having not slept well either.

“Miss Mai, if you’re feeling unwell, you can stay behind me.”

“No need. I’ll stick with Hasaka.” Mai shook her head firmly, albeit a bit reluctantly, and edged closer to Hayasaka Ai.

She looked like she despised the girl, but in a team of three men and two women, she still found a fellow female more trustworthy.

Couldn’t even pick up on the hint? These clueless kids were the most troublesome. Others were making deals, and she was just tagging along for no reason.

Li Dan sighed inwardly. With only five people, their group’s internal dynamics were already ridiculously complicated. Even that rich guy had started cozying up to Yuuki, clearly hedging his bets.

Just as Li Dan was about to interrupt their conversation, his expression suddenly stiffened. He raised a hand in a silence gesture.

The ventilation duct instantly fell quiet. Apart from the sound of breathing, a faint zzt— cutting noise echoed from a distance.

The rich guy trembled, his chubby face twitching. He coughed nervously.

“Cough, cough! It hasn’t even been two hours! How did they find us so fast?!”

“Keep your voice down. The time limit hasn’t run out yet, but they’re not idiots. Ever heard of digging three feet deep?” Li Dan had no time to deal with the team’s interpersonal drama. He immediately crouched down. “Move. If we get trapped in here, we’re dead.”

Based on how the Red Moon City police operated, they’d likely throw grenades into the duct first—leaving no place to hide. Nobody cared about the stench anymore. They all scrambled to move as quickly as possible.

Li Dan led the way, checking the pipeline map as he went. Hayasaka Ai had hacked into the local network earlier to download it, and now it was proving invaluable.

The tunnel system wasn’t particularly complex, with no layered structures. But if the enemy sent in search dogs, they’d be found in no time.

So Li Dan chose to climb upward. After about ten minutes, they stopped near a hanging iron ladder.

“This is it. I’ll go up first. Fatty, you follow me.”

Yuuki caught sight of rich guy climbing the stairs with a face that screamed, “Why me?” His gaze flickered, and just then, he happened to lock eyes with Hayasaka Ai. She gave a subtle nudge of her lips—her meaning was all too clear.

“Are we following or not?”

“Following. Veteran players have been a threat since the game started, and now we need to borrow his strength to resolve the main conflict. By the way, wasn’t it a little too hard just now? Was that your chance to get revenge?” Yuuki curled up slightly—he was still hurting.

“Emergency situation. Please refrain from discussing matters unrelated to the Reincarnation Game.” Hayasaka Ai remained expressionless.

“Alright, you win. Let’s see how this plays out.”

Yuuki decisively climbed the ladder, missing the slight curve of Hayasaka’s lips and Sakurajima Mai discreetly covering her mouth. But the game’s pace was too fast—no one had time to dwell on it.

Back on the ground, Yuuki quickly scanned his surroundings. As expected, the pipeline map was accurate.

This place looked like an abandoned urban village. The doors and windows had been removed, the residents relocated—clearly, the port expansion had been set to swallow up this village, leaving it in a state of utter decay.

The sun had set, the red moon had yet to rise, and distant lights cast the village into a hazy gloom. Those who remained had already fled in the chaos, leaving only two half-finished high-rise buildings in the village center, dividing it into east and west.

Some unlucky soul must have just bought the land, only to get caught up in this mess before even finishing construction.

Yuuki took note of the unfinished buildings’ unique layout and the police tape strung all around. Just then, Li Dan gave him a light pat on the shoulder.

He closed his eyes, carefully gauging the weight of that tap, then heard the man’s steady voice.

“Let’s find a place to hide. The enemy won’t let this go. It’s already 8 PM—soon, the red moon will rise.”

“Brother Li, I want to check out those buildings.” Yuuki pointed to the two skeletal high-rises, explaining, “That info terminal can only track vehicles, but if we get to the rooftop, we’ll have a commanding view of the enemy’s movements.”

His reasoning was solid, and Li Dan had no grounds to object. Just as he was about to push Hayasaka Ai forward to help, Sakurajima Mai stepped up on her own, gathering her courage.

“I’ll go. If anything happens, my ability will come in handy.”

“Yeah, yeah, that place looks terrifying—I’m definitely not going.” Hayasaka Ai hesitated for a second before quickly agreeing, shrinking back as she spoke.

Li Dan slowly retracted his outstretched finger, eyeing her with suspicion before waving a hand in mild irritation.

“Just be quick.”

Yuuki hastily thanked him and tried to grab Sakurajima Mai’s hand, but she pulled it behind her back with a look of disdain. Awkwardly laughing it off, he ducked under the police tape.

The moment he turned his back to Li Dan, however, the smile vanished without a trace.

“Do you know why I brought you along?”

“You’re afraid Li Dan will try to recruit me,” Sakurajima Mai replied casually. She wasn’t dumb—ever since they had discussed her true self’s ability, the veteran player’s attitude had noticeably shifted.

“Mm. He’s more experienced and reliable than me. Have you considered switching sides?”

Tap, tap.

With light steps, the girl dashed ahead, bounding up the bare concrete stairs before spinning around and clasping her hands behind her back. A playful smile danced on her lips.

“Heh, why don’t you take a guess?”