Feng Bujue felt that he was almost fooled by this script. At first he thought it was an ordinary ghost story setting, and then he thought it was a supernatural event with multiple threads. However, he found that the first three events were in a reversed way.

On the timeline, it is just the distorted memory of a mental patient, and the script setting becomes a murder in the real world.

And next...he didn't know what would happen next.

Zhi——

This was the sound of an incandescent lamp, and a dazzling white light made Feng Bujue recover from his brief trance.

He closed one eye and turned his head. After two seconds, he adapted to the sudden increase in light and saw his surroundings clearly.

Feng Bujue was currently wearing a striped hospital uniform and was sitting in front of a table. His hands were tied to the armrests of the chair by two pairs of handcuffs, and his feet were connected together by shackles.

There was a lamp on the table and some paper documents spread out. On the seat opposite the table, there was a man in a white coat. He looked to be in his fifties. His forehead was covered with wrinkles. He was holding a piece of paper in his hand.

Paper, he was writing in circles on it with a pen, and there was a mini tape recorder beside him.

This room is not closed. There is a small, iron-barred window high up, and a bunch of moonlight falls through the gap. There is a bed in the corner of the room, and a toilet in the other corner. The four walls are no longer monotonous concrete.

The color is painted in soft and bright colors. Feng Bujue can see the door going out. There is a small window above the door panel. This small window is not made of glass, but is filled with very dense, intersecting iron mesh.

There is also a flap on the lower part of the door, which seems to be only openable from the outside. It should be an opening used to deliver meals to prisoners.

"Then... Hirata-kun, if you are ready, let's start this conversation." The man in the white coat said.

Feng Bujue sighed: "Sorry, there are three things, please tell me."

The white coat was silent for two seconds, frowned and looked at him: "What is it?"

"Who are you, where am I, and... today's date." Feng Bujue asked.

The other party also took a deep breath, and then sighed heavily: "Hey..." He picked up the mini recorder at hand, pressed the record button, and said to his mouth: "March 9, 2005, patient number 0098,

Shuichi Hirata. Recorder of the file, Taro Takakura." Takakura put the recorder aside and said to Feng Bujue: "Don't you remember me?"

Feng Bujue ignored him, lowered his head hard, and touched his face with the back of his hand. After touching it twice, he was basically sure that his face did not look fifteen years older. Although he looked like he was wearing prison uniform,

But when I open the game menu, there is still no change in the clothing column. But no matter what, from the NPC perspective, the person in front of me is undoubtedly Shuichi Hirata, who is in his forties.

"You..." Gao Cang seemed to be a very perceptive person: "Who are you? Are you Hirata? Watanabe? Tachibana? Or someone else?"

This question contained quite a lot of information, but Feng Bujue responded immediately: "Do I have multiple personality disorder?"

"Yes." Gao Cang replied. He picked up the document in his hand and sighed again: "Since you were imprisoned in 1991, many doctors have participated in your treatment and research. What can be determined so far is

There are three personalities, the main personality is Shuichi Hirata, and there are two other personalities, a psychiatrist named Watanabe, and a policeman named Tachibana. So, which one are you? Or are you neither?"

Feng Bujue leaned back in his chair: "You can call me Mr. F." He looked at the ceiling: "Watanabe represents Hirata's reason and wisdom, and Tachibana represents Hirata's conscience and self-blame. Hirata himself...I

I don’t know, I haven’t seen him yet.”

"Mr. F? Reason? Conscience?" Gao Cang snorted coldly: "Okay, Mr. F. So what do you represent? Your identity, occupation..."

"Me?" Feng Bujue smiled: "I am a mystery novelist who came from a higher dimension and entered this body." He looked relaxed: "I am gradually breaking away from some kind of mental world.

The subject of the cage may be Mr. Hirata, whom I have not yet met, or it may be something else. I broke through from the most chaotic and vague memory world to the subconscious self-spiritual world, and then picked up some important things.

Memories, and came here." He moved forward: "I now seriously doubt, Dr. Gao Cang, whether you and this cell are real or a symbol of another cage..." (To be completed
Chapter completed!