Upon entering the instance this time, Eric was surprised to find herself aboard a wooden boat.
The vessel glided smoothly along a great river, the boatman, clad in a straw raincoat and hat, sat with his back to her. Shimmering water stretched to both sides under the bright sky, and verdant forests cloaked the riverbanks. Had she not known this was part of the game instance, Eric might have marveled at the natural beauty before her.
"Where are we? Who are you?!"
The next player to arrive was a newcomer. Panicked, she demanded an answer from Eric.
Eric calmly reassured her. "Try to recall what you were doing before you got here."
The woman froze—clearly remembering the reality of her own death.
"This is an Endless Escape horror instance. You earn points by completing it. Points can be exchanged for resurrection." Eric offered a succinct explanation.
Other players began to arrive. Including Eric, there were seven in total—four women and three men, the small boat now crowded. Eric took a seat, gripping the boat's edge to steady herself and avoid falling overboard.
This round had three new players: two men and a woman, all in their late twenties or early thirties. They quickly accepted the bizarre reality and listened attentively as the veteran players explained the rules.
"Looks like a supernatural instance this time," Delilah observed. "The only question is—where's this boat taking us?"
"The boatman doesn't speak—he's mute. We won't get anything out of him."
"Then let's just wait it out."
After more than half an hour, Eric finally spotted a dock ahead. The boatman began steering the boat toward it.
As they landed, Eric jumped ashore first. The moment her feet touched the ground, a prompt echoed in her mind:
*You've spent four years away studying. After graduating university, you landed a promising job. Before starting work, the village chief of your hometown, Dahe Village, requested your return for the once-in-two-decades Dragon King Festival—a sacred event believed to bring you smooth sailing and great fortune in the city...*
Dahe Village. Dragon King Festival.
Eric immediately caught these two key details. It seemed her assigned role this time was a villager returning home after years of study.
The other players came ashore one by one, sharing their prompts—they were identical.
The mute boatman moored the boat and gestured noisily, signaling them to follow.
"We're really just going to follow him? What if he's dangerous?" Silas, one of the new players, hesitated. The place gave him an eerie feeling.
"Yeah, let's just leave. You've seen the movies—secluded village, mysterious festival. Sounds like we're about to become sacrifices," Weston chimed in.
"We're here to complete the instance, not run from it," Eric replied, stepping after the boatman.
Emery hesitated before following. After all, the boatman had rowed them here—where else could she go? Wherever she ended up, it was still the world of the dead. It made little difference.
Seeing them leave, Cao Weiran gritted his teeth and followed.
"Hey—wait for me!" Weston called out and hurried after them.
The boatman led them into the village.
The terrain was uneven, a narrow stream winding through the settlement, lined with stilted houses arranged in a charming disarray.
Eric noticed the villagers eyeing them with expressions she couldn't quite read. But before she could take a closer look, they averted their gazes and quickly dispersed.
There was something off about this place.
The instance always assigned roles with purpose.
Their designated residence was a stilted wooden house perched on a small slope. The boatman gestured a few garbled sounds and walked off in straw sandals, his footsteps slapping against the earth.
The players entered the building.
The stairs creaked underfoot. Eric ran her hand along the railing, feeling a thick layer of dust. Upstairs, she pushed open a wooden door and was immediately struck by a musty staleness.
"No one's lived here in ages," she said, covering her nose and mouth. "Let's open the windows."
Once the windows were opened and fresh air flowed in, the smell lessened. After checking the space, they found it spacious enough—though only the second floor was habitable, it held three rooms, a kitchen, and a basic toilet.
"There's only a bucket in the toilet? Are we supposed to empty it ourselves?" Silas winced in disgust.
"Probably. I saw a villager carrying one earlier. The smell…" Delilah grimaced.
"There's no running water here? Seriously? What a dump!" Weston grumbled, scratching his head in frustration. He disliked everything about the place.
"We're here for a mission, not a vacation," Josephine snapped. "Pick your rooms. Once we're done, we look for clues."
Three rooms for seven people were more than enough. Emery, somewhat familiar with Eric, volunteered to room with her. Josephine shared with Delilah. The two new male players, Silas and Weston, joined the taciturn Brooks in the last room.
Each player had been given a backpack. Eric had already checked hers: two sets of clothes, an ID, and a wallet—bare essentials.
It was strange. A regular person returning home after years wouldn't pack so lightly. But this was a supernatural instance—such setups were part of the game.
She picked up the ID and studied it closely. The photo was hers. The name: Eric. But the birthdate and ID number differed from her real ones—obviously part of the instance.
**April 4, 1982.**
This was the in-game Eric's date of birth.
The contrast between the overly simple luggage and the overly detailed ID hinted at something more. Eric was sure it hid clues.
"You guys have IDs too, right? What's your date of birth?" she asked the others.
"ID? Let me check… April 4, 1982."
"Mine's April 4th!"
"Me too!"
Every player shared the exact same birthday.
"There's definitely something wrong here," Delilah said. "We're supposed to be locals, but instead of returning to our own homes, we're all put together in one house?"
"The instance said we're here for the Dragon King Festival," Eric replied. "I'm starting to think we're the offerings." She placed the ID back in her bag. "Let's talk to the villagers. At the very least, we need to figure out who we're supposed to be."
The seven of them went downstairs. The three new players stayed close, too afraid to venture off alone.
"Let's split up according to our room assignments," Eric suggested. "We'll gather information faster."
Brooks nodded, glanced at the two new male players, and chose a direction. Silas and Weston hurried after him.
"We'll take this way," Josephine said, heading off with Delilah.
"What about us?" Emery asked softly.
"This way," Eric replied.
Eric didn't go far. She kept a keen eye on the villagers' reactions. Something was off. They clearly viewed the players differently.
From her experience, there was a high chance the players truly were intended sacrifices. Horror instances rarely showed mercy.
"Little one."
Finally spotting a child, Eric crouched and opened her palm, revealing a candy. She smiled warmly. "Want a sweet?"
The barefoot girl, around five or six, wore a thin top with her elbows and belly exposed. Her pants were patched in several places, and the chill of early spring had her rubbing her hands, lips pale.
She stared wide-eyed at the candy in Eric's hand.
After a long moment, she inched forward and tentatively reached out. Eric remained still, smiling gently.
At last, the girl snatched the candy and bolted.
"Eric—" Emery called out in alarm.
Eric shook her head, signaling her to stay silent.
Emery looked awkward. She was older than Eric—yet somehow Eric didn't act like a younger sister at all. In fact, she was borderline cold.
They waited patiently. The child peeked around the corner again, watching Eric cautiously.
Eric approached slowly, her voice soft. "Was it tasty?"
"…Yes. Sweet." The girl swallowed, sugary residue still at the corner of her lips.
"I have more. I'll give you some later, okay?"
"Thank you, big sister. This is for you."
She handed Eric a dark, smelly piece of dried fish.
"Fish jerky. It's yummy."
"Thank you. What's your name?"
"Nora."
"That's a lovely name. I'm happy to meet you, Nora. My name is Eric. Do you know me?"
Eric didn't expect much—after all, "Eric" had supposedly been away at school for years. Nora, so young, wouldn't likely know her.
As expected, Nora shook her head. "No."
Still, Eric wasn't discouraged. She was about to continue when Nora added:
"But you're nice to me. I like you. Big sister, your house is haunted. You have to be careful. My mom won't let me play there."
Eric's heart skipped a beat.
She feigned fear. "Really? That's the house the mute man brought us to. That's scary… I'll ask him to find us a new place."
Nora shook her head solemnly. "He won't let you. My mom says you all *have* to stay there. So weird. She said it's haunted, but also said it's your home. Why would anyone live in a haunted house? Doesn't make sense."
Eric began to form a picture of Nora's mother—perhaps a young woman who loved gossip and spoke freely, even in front of children.
Seizing the opportunity, she asked gently, "Really? What else did your mom say? I'm really scared of ghosts, Nora… Will you help me?"
She placed a pink rhinestone-studded hairclip into Nora's hand.
The little girl's eyes lit up—brighter than when she'd seen the candy.
Seeing this, Eric finally relaxed. Had the clip failed, she'd have had to think of another plan.