A chill brushed Zhongli's hand, an icy echo of the clues he'd pieced together, his mind settling on a sequence that wove the game's whispers into a haunting thread of final moments.
He'd arranged them with care—While waiting I stand still, I whisper his name in a low voice, his fingertips run across my hand, the hand is cold, my body is shaking, I waited motionless, waiting for this to end—a woman's last breath under a killer's grip.
Zhongli stood by the phone, statue-still, as that unseen cold grazed him, a fleeting touch that vanished in seconds, leaving only the air's weight and a third ripple of baby's laughter.
The phone shrilled, cutting the silence, and after a few rings, a man's voice rasped, "You have been selected," its cryptic weight hanging as the far door clicked open with a groan.
Two more clues surfaced—Through the fog of fading consciousness, I believe I heard a call—slotting into his tapestry, a coda to Lisa's demise, signaling the endgame's curtain was near.
"It's done," he murmured, his tone even, stepping through the door, the dark corridor flashing past before plunging his vision into an abyss of black stillness.
Seconds ticked by, then the screen flared—a flashlight's beam swept a rain-slicked road, shoes clacking on wet stone, the view tilting upward to reveal a fog-draped town beyond the house.
Streetlamps cast a sickly yellow glow, their light warping in the mist, painting an empty Silent Hill that pulsed with unease, a stark leap from the looping nightmare's confines.
The camera panned, freezing on a handsome man's face—head turned, eyes glinting—before the screen faded, Silent Hill: PT's tale ending on that enigmatic note.
A mechanical voice blared through the cafe's speakers, "Congratulations to Mr. Zhongli, Unit 24, for being the first to clear Silent Hill: PT—please claim your reward at the counter," jolting the room to life.
Every player froze, Mario's hops and digging hammers stilled, all eyes swinging to Zhongli—some even ignored their plummets back to happy hometowns, too stunned to care.
"Holy Rex Lapis, he actually did it!" one gasped, the crowd rising in a wave, their disbelief crackling as they gawked at the sage who'd cracked the uncrackable in a mere three hours.
"Three hours on his first run—is this guy human?" another stammered, while a third groaned, "I've sunk eight hours and still jump at Lisa's shadow—what's my excuse?"
A smug voice cut in, "You're just timid—I've seen Keqing's notes; that ghost's nothing to fear," though their bravado paled beside Zhongli's feat, a titan's stride over their stumbles.
"I pegged him for a freeloader, all charm and no spine, but this? He's a legend—looks really do lie," one mused, reverence blooming for the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor's quiet guest.
"Few earn my respect, but Zhongli's on the list now," a gruff player vowed, while another buzzed, "What's the prize? I need to know!" their curiosity a spark in the swelling clamor.
Zhongli cleared his throat, a faint cough masking a flicker of pride—clearing PT in one sitting stirred a rare satisfaction, a nod to his millennia-honed mettle.
Tartaglia clapped, dazed, his hands moving on autopilot, his own frantic Silent Hill runs dwarfed by Zhongli's serene mastery—comparing them was like pitting a storm against a mountain.
"Don't gape—let's see the loot!" Hu Tao chirped, tugging Zhongli to the counter, her eyes alight with anticipation as she grilled Liam on the spoils of victory.
Liam slid a card across, "Honorary Player Card—one month free Internet, ten percent off after; non-transferable," his voice crisp, the perk a modest crown for the sage's triumph.
Next came a small gold trophy, pure Mora gleaming, paired with a framed certificate—Mr. Zhongli, First to Clear Silent Hill: PT—a tangible seal on his digital conquest.
Zhongli nodded, pleased—free access spared him the chore of billing Hu Tao, though discounts mattered little to a man who lived on credit and charm alone.
Hu Tao snatched the trophy and certificate, beaming, "These are Wangsheng's pride now!" her voice ringing as she claimed the honors for her parlor, a gleeful hoarder of glory.
The rewards held little Mora-worth, but the prestige—the first-pass swagger—shone brighter, a badge of bragging rights that turned heads across the cafe's fifty stations.
Liam tapped the system, unveiling an Honor List on every screen, Zhongli's name blazing at the top—first to clear PT, first to conquer any game here, a double crown of cool.
"Too slick—way too slick!" a player whistled, the list's dazzle igniting a fire—material prizes were fine, but this? This was the ultimate flex, a spotlight they all craved.
"Face matters more than Mora," Liam smirked from behind the counter, his system gorging on the envy and ambition rippling through the crowd, a fresh wave of emotional gold.
His clientele—Liyue's well-heeled and thrill-chasing—didn't pinch pennies; they chased clout, eager to outshine each other, and this list was a siren call to their egos.
Hu Tao puffed her chest, clutching her spoils, already plotting how to lord this over rivals, while Tartaglia vowed silently to claw his way onto that board, pride stung.
The cafe thrummed, players diving back into their games with renewed vigor—Mario's pipes, digging's depths, all now stepping stones to etch their names beside Zhongli's.
Liam leaned back, his grin wicked—Zhongli's win wasn't just a milestone; it was a spark, fanning a frenzy of competition that'd flood his reserves for weeks to come.
This wasn't a mere victory—it was a catalyst, and Zhongli's calm ascent had turned his cafe into a coliseum where Teyvat's boldest would vie for digital immortality.
***
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