When Vivi was thrown into the maze, the system notification popped up immediately:

[Player has entered Instance: Minos’ Labyrinth (Damaged)]

[In this labyrinth, you will encounter Minos-like monsters hunting you and endless, twisting corridors with no exit. Each turn may lead to a different room. The Owls are watching you, and your actions will influence subsequent side quest triggers.]

[In its damaged state, the labyrinth’s hypnotic effects are significantly weakened.]

[Instance Rewards: Goat Cabin Upgrade x1, Transparent Card x1]

If you’re planning to kidnap a gamer, you should at least ensure they don’t have access to a map, teleportation, spatial inventory, or a chat interface—or better yet, just don’t bother.

Vivi might not know the way out of the maze, but she had at least seven or eight ways to dismantle it. The Owls had no clue what they were dealing with. If it had been Batman and his allies targeting her, she might have found it more challenging.

The walls were seven to eight meters high, smooth and imposing. Vivi had no grappling hook or advanced tools, but she had a pipe and a hammer. During her time as a vigilante, Vivi had never displayed superhuman traits; she simply relied on brute strength (training her skills) to fight criminals. In the public eye, “Nightwatch” seemed to follow the same path as Batman.

She opened her map.

The unexplored underground area appeared blank, but the interface revealed that she was beneath City Hall. However, the map didn’t show any labyrinth, and the Court members were nowhere to be seen. Still, Vivi knew they were watching her.

“She’s awake.”
“Yes, observing her surroundings like a small animal.”

Meanwhile, at Harbor Mansion, Winston’s listening device transmitted information, appearing as text on Vivi’s interface.

“I’ve never liked owls as creatures. They don’t build their own nests; they steal them from other birds. But Gotham isn’t theirs to claim…” Vivi muttered as her fingers traced the rough, mottled wall. She walked into a well-lit room at the end of the hall, her eyes scanning the photos on the walls.

Most were strangers, but a few faces were familiar. For instance, one was a former dean of Gotham University—a philanthropist whose records Vivi had once “borrowed” while “retrieving” something from the school. According to those records, he vanished in his prime and was never seen again.

The Court of Owls operated in silence, eliminating people without the crude methods of assassination. Disappearances often gave them more time to divide their enemies’ assets and power. Occasionally, their labyrinth served another purpose—to break minds.

Assassination, disappearance—no. The goal was to turn them into madmen.

A madman’s words held no credibility. Some who disappeared were eventually “found,” but they returned shattered, their souls trapped in the endless maze, leaving their families to crumble soon after.

At the end of the room, Vivi froze, staring at the final photograph.

It was her own face.

The brown-haired girl in the photo wore a mocking expression she never displayed in real life. Her green eyes were cold, as if a dead person were glaring at the living.

“My turn…”

A sigh echoed through the room, identical to Vivi’s own voice.

The system interface flooded with transparent messages. Though invisible to her, the information existed:

[Player is under mental attack caused by “Synthesized Photo,” “Synthesized Voice,” and “Hypnosis.”]
[Mental Resistance is a hidden attribute. Attack results are being calculated.]
[If Mental Resistance exceeds attack strength, the player will not be affected.]
[If Mental Resistance equals attack strength, Mental Resistance will decrease by the attack value.]
[If Mental Resistance is lower than attack strength, the player will enter a hallucinatory state.]
[Player’s Mental Resistance: 0 (You can be easily defined, destroyed, and reshaped, as you lack a true self and possess no inherent will.) / N 1 (No matter the attack strength, your resistance is always slightly higher.)]
[Attack failed.]

The messages vanished as quietly as they appeared.

Completely unfazed, Vivi removed a tape recorder from its stand, slung it around her neck, and grabbed the stand as a makeshift weapon. She gave it a few test swings, muttering to herself: “Too light, not ideal.”

She then took the photo off the wall, folded it neatly, and tucked it into her pocket before strolling out of the room.

The watching Owls were stunned.

“She had no reaction?”
“The tools failed—the hypnotic symbols on the walls, the odorless gas in the air, and our mental influence—all of it had no effect?”
“…Is everyone already gathered at the mansion? I need to invite them to see this. This is fascinating; the show has already begun.”

In the next room, Vivi encountered suspended wooden mannequins. They had no faces, but their clothing was eerily familiar. One resembled Anna, another Bella, and others seemed to be portraying Millie, Shelk, Violin, and more. Below them was a white relief model of City Hall. Harsh white light illuminated the mannequins, their shadows looming over the miniature City Hall.

Vivi remained unfazed.

Well, not entirely.

“The Court of Owls,” she thought, “should really consider a career in movie set design.”

This labyrinth was more like an immersive movie experience center, and Vivi had a VIP ticket just for herself. Every set piece had been designed specifically for her, and the realism surpassed even the most elaborate haunted house.

She understood what the display was trying to convey:

They will be destroyed. They will sacrifice themselves. They will be hanged like criminals. And their deaths will all be tied to Vivi and the figure behind her, Mr. C. Their so-called good deeds would only lead their followers into inevitable death. This was an attempt to break her psyche.

But honestly?

This didn’t even compare to the atmospheric terror of Log-in Space, where at least there were thunderstorms, dynamic BGM, and realistic lightning effects to enhance the experience—unlike this half-hearted attempt with a staged underground room.

Vivi picked up the stand she had just obtained, removed her cape, and tied it to the stand after bending it into shape. She tossed it upward, catching one of the suspended wooden mannequins. One by one, the mannequins were yanked down, to the Owls’ surprise. The girl did not break down emotionally, attack the wooden figures, or react with any visible distress.

Instead, she undressed all the wooden mannequins and arranged them in a humorous tableau: two mannequins embracing on the ground, three others pointing accusingly at them, one posed mid-sprint, and two more chasing after it.

A vivid drama of infidelity exposed was unfolding in the middle of the labyrinth.

Next, Vivi tested the strength of the ropes and tied all the remaining mannequins together. She attached several pieces of clothing to the end of the rope and hurled it over the opposite wall. With one toss, the clothes caught on something on the other side.

The rope stretched taut across the top of the labyrinth wall, and Vivi made her way to the opposite end, grabbing the clothes and preparing to climb up.

This was the breaking point for the Owls.

Accustomed to controlling everything, they thrived on the belief that all events unfolded according to their plans. If Vivi had used superhuman abilities—teleportation, brute strength, or any extraordinary powers—they might not have been so enraged. But instead, she had resisted their once-unstoppable mental attacks and employed mundane, practical methods to navigate the maze.

This was a direct affront to everything the Court of Owls stood for: the audacity to imply that even a mentally resilient ordinary person could outwit them.

Their anger turned to an odd sort of panic.

The screens displayed the girl climbing the rope. The Owls watched coldly, waiting for the inevitable—the rope snapped just as she neared the top. She fell short of reaching the summit, slipping back into the labyrinth below.

Yet, as expected—or perhaps unexpectedly—Vivi displayed no sign of despair. Her expression remained as calm as ever.

Some Owls sighed in relief, their pride bruised yet comforted by the confirmation of their superiority. But what now? If she would not break, how could they destroy her?

Back at Harbor Mansion, the number of attendees on the map had grown significantly. Winston had already retreated to a corner, knowing full well that he had no place to sit among the current crowd of Gotham’s elite.

Vivi, of course, wouldn’t be destroyed. That was a given. Not only did she have numerous ways to escape, but even if she were stuck here indefinitely with no “lives” left, couldn’t she just log out?

Even the snapped rope wasn’t useless. She tied it around her waist and continued deeper into the labyrinth.

“The Owls must be getting frustrated by now,” Vivi thought.

And that was precisely her intention—to provoke them.

When faced with a hidden enemy whose numbers and plans were unclear, she needed to draw them out, using herself as bait.

The Owls’ behavior revealed their weaknesses: born into wealth and privilege, they believed themselves rulers of all, deriving pleasure from others’ pain as a means to assert their dominance. Arrogant, self-absorbed, and shadow-dwelling, they couldn’t resist stepping into the light to witness their prey’s suffering firsthand—especially if the hunt proved far more challenging than anticipated.

This was her invitation. By infuriating them, Vivi knew they’d be unable to resist watching her supposed collapse up close, abandoning logic in their anger.

On the map, Harbor Mansion wasn’t far from the room where Vivi had first been detained—a known gathering spot for the Court of Owls.

Vivi refused to remain on the defensive. She would take control.

---

In the suburbs, Violin staged a small explosion before vanishing. He spread rumors on the streets that he had been killed. To the uninformed, Violin was dead. But to those in the know, his subordinates maintained the illusion that he was still alive.

Meanwhile, Tal donned a Talon uniform and returned to the organization, taking the place of the assassin sent to kill Millie. Vivi often wondered if Tal had truly lost his memory, but William, now driving in South Hinckley, showed no intention of re-joining the organization.

Vivi spent a full seven hours in the labyrinth. During this time, she encountered a blurred image of Mr. C, which she instantly recognized as an electronic projection—a fake. She saw figures in Owl masks that vanished as she approached, clearly optical illusions. She circled back to her starting point several times and even stumbled upon a crudely made Owl statue. Compared to the Batman sculpture or Vivi’s own carvings, the statue was downright amateurish.

After critiquing its craftsmanship, Vivi climbed onto the statue and “napped” for a while, exuding the casual air of someone at home. She made sure to feign hunger and exhaustion—natural vulnerabilities that the Owls would expect from an ordinary person.

In truth, this was all part of her plan to lull them into underestimating her.

You always have to give the Owls a glimmer of hope.

In her “slumber,” the girl’s lips curved into a faint smile—

Just like that snapped rope, Vivi knew exactly how to torment others’ minds… Hope within reach, snatched away repeatedly, creating true despair.

While feigning rest, Vivi felt a biting wind rush toward her.

A Talon emerged from behind, blade aimed directly at her chest.

Unarmed, weak, and visibly exhausted, she looked like the perfect victim—an ideal target for their twisted games.

I’ve won, Vivi thought as she glanced at her map. Allowing the enemy to believe they had the upper hand was part of her plan, a means to gather intel. She had no intention of truly letting them succeed. Gotham’s vigilantes would never, ever fall victim to criminals in such a laughable fashion—dying as part of a staged magic show. Her presence here was to prevent exactly that.

Vivi knew that all the Owls’ attention was now fixed on her.

“Our only goal is to clip Alek’s wings. Don’t act recklessly.”

“So you’d bow to a little girl?”

“If she were killed in front of a crowd, with everyone believing it to be a performance—a magic trick—would she fear us? Would she cry? Would she desperately beg for help while they laughed at her demise?”

“No. She would mock us.”

The Talon’s long blade pierced Vivi’s chest, but there was no fear in her eyes. She smiled and sent a message through her system interface to Winston.

[Cover your ears.]

[Close your eyes.]