Translated by boilpoil Edited by boilpoil
(TL: Partehs are basically parties but, know, less ‘party’ and more, uhh
 *goes to wash eyes with bleach*)
If Bright knew what would happen a month later, he would definitely go and join in on the sex orgy, and just pull over anyone and get it on, to avoid meeting that person. Or just choke him to death and then kill himself. This way, he could have a straightforward death.
This is the first thing he has regretted.
Bright, who doesn’t know about the future, is currently extremely flustered. Even more so than when two people were abangin’ under a tree when he was hiding on a tree.
The camera is again aiming into his face.
Fuckers! Do they all fucking like spectating him observing people screwing each other?! Huh?! What the fuck have I ever done to you!
Bad things you start getting used to the second time and on. He endures the throbbing pain of his stomach churning, and looks ahead with a poker face.
2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7
 Around 200 contestants were combining and permuting all over the place, playing a game of No Hole Left Unpenetrated .
The last time was audio-only, and now it’s a literal visual blast. Bright feels as if his eyes are corrupted, and needs to be thrown in formalin for a day or two. Yet he daren’t even close his eyes or move his head away.
In the shadows are sharks directing their death stares at him. If any weakness is revealed, they would gush forth fiercely, and use it to viciously attack him.
When he noticed it, the person next to him has been gone for some time.
Bright breaths out in light relief. That person’s presence is too overwhelming. He didn’t only mean his appearance, but also his aura. He is like a gentleman who is always ready for a high-class social function, calm and collected, perched high above, it is too disharmonic with the indulgent and vulgar atmosphere around them.
Standing with him makes Bright feel a strong inferiority.
His body seems to be instinctively rejecting physically nearing him.
Bright misinterprets this danger warning as self-abasement.
This is the second thing he regrets.
“Sir, are you interested in number 199?” The vice director of the show is diligently servicing the strikingly handsome aristocrat, bowing forward with a plastered smile on his face. He is nervously rubbing his hands and exuding deference. Sounding as if he would wash number 199 finely and deliver him onto his bed if only the other person would reply ‘yes.’
Hopkin did not spare him a glance.
The black eyes are emotionless. Through a giant glass wall, he is watching the man with his back to him. The man is completely unaware of being observed, thinking that he is only leaning on a smooth wall, which is actually a one-way mirror.
The Killing Gauntlet is the hottest reality show about. Many are relishing the grotesquery the contestants are displaying in this celebration, picking their ideal investment or pet, mostly through camera lenses; however, he doesn’t trust the tastes of the show too much, who are always messing up their filming priorities, and mislabeling treasures, or even disfiguring pieces of artistic value. So he decided to come here in person, and maybe find some fun.
Sure enough, he met an interesting toy.
That man named Bright has appallingly bad techniques for concealing emotion. He might have pulled the wool over the dunces in the staff members, but his repulsion is plain as a pikestaff in Hopkin’s eyes.
Hopkin lets out a snigger. Though his facial expression was blank, but the man’s straight yet tense back, his self-hugging hands in a posture suggesting firm rejection, is certainly telling.
Repulsion?
What a rich emotion for a slave to feel.
They should be obedient and fearful, worried and anxious, and well up in happiness for a tiny bit of mercy bestowed by their masters.
Him saying “you were correct in not eating” was sarcasm without any hints of goodwill. You could, in truth, say it was full of malice.
The show, without consulting any contestant, prepared scrupulously for this spiked meal, only to receive this ungrateful reception. They must be fuming. To the other contestants, who would see this unsociable guy as flying his own colours, he would be on their kill list.
This world is friendly to the deranged, but not when the deranged knows you aren’t.
One can already picture the tragic end for the man. How exciting.
As if aligning with his anticipation, a small group has surrounded the solitary man.
“Hey! Wanna join?” A man sporting yellowish-brown hair has come with his underlings. His stance is limp and his steps unsteady. He’s looking high out of his mind.
He eagerly presents his toy to Bright, “look, the shape is great. It’s already stretched open. Looks so pink and tender you can’t even tell how old he is, right?”
It’s a very beautiful middle-aged man. He is carried by two men here with his upper body hanging on one and his lower body attached to another.
His face is held in someone’s hand and turned to face Bright. Lust and eroticism are written all across his face. An underling moves mischievously, and immediately whimpers come out of his mouth.
Bright moves his glance across the people, and lands it on the leader, calmly stating, “you’re clear-headed.”
This leader is one of the few people in the venue that still has clothes on. Maybe he didn’t drink nor take any pills, and it’s all just an act. Though unlike his own choice, he assimilates himself in the environment, like a chameleon.
Ochrehair ‘s complexion stiffens for a second, and lowers his head slightly, his bangs covering his eyes. Bright thought he might get angry, but when he raises his head, his expression changed to one of zealous possessiveness and provocation. He shivers excitedly, “Hahahahaha! You’re fun!”
“
”
“I like your eyes. I will take them in the next episode.”
“
” Fuck!
Ochrehair seems to have some say in things. After sending him away, Bright earned the right to watch silently.
(╯—▥â€Č)â•Żïž”â”»â”â”» Who the fuck needs that!
The celebration lasted the whole day, and it was declared over at dusk. He returns to his dormitory, and finds it empty. It might be only he has made it back, or he just came back earlier than others.
Now there’s no cameras stalking him. He relaxes and takes a long shower.
Staring at the unfamiliar face in the mirror, he stood dazed for a while.
It’s the first time he examined the appearance of this body like this.
The skin is smooth, the muscles are evenly distributed and firm. Eight packs and the adonis belt exudes an alluring aura. Black hair, brown eyes, well-organised facial features, noble-looking, with an aura of an experienced veteran. It just screams righteousness. It’s like Zhu Shimao in Zhu Shimao and Chen Peisi . Even if he was the actor portraying a traitor you’d think he’s undercover instead.
This is the hero’s standard face in the mobile game. It’s a face divergently contrastive with this world.
Bright is crying himself blind in his mind, but the man in the mirror is only slightly furrowing his brows in an expression of resignation, like a calm, wise elder, whose eyes can encompass any and all all injustice and suffering.
This face could be a main reason for his tragic destiny.
He decides to go to sleep.
“Latiao●Dadiao, follow Dad and pick mushrooms with me. Dad wants to have a barbeque!”
“Woof!”
Bright jumps up from the wooden house in the forest. With the arena and the celebration, he hasn’t had hot dishes for two whole days.
Yet, his wooden house is walled in. No doors, not even a window is there.
Blackback watches his silly master running about in the house.
Luckily his backpack still had wood left. He immediately made a wooden door, and set a password so that only he could enter.
This outdoor trip he’s going to clear out excessive stuff from his backpack, so he made tables, chairs and a cabinet with the machine. The cabinet can store materials. Though it’s limited in space with only 20 slots, it’s enough for him right now.
To reach the area where mushrooms grow, he has to go through a zombie-infested region.
He is surely going all-out for food.
Author’s notes: Forewarning for the Top slicing his persona in two.
Read only at Travis Translations