Nora clutched the hairclip gingerly, afraid to damage it, her fingers trembling with excitement, her cheeks tinged pink. What a beautiful accessory! She had only ever seen the village chief's granddaughter wear something like this—something said to be so precious it was reserved only for the New Year, otherwise kept carefully away, too cherished for daily use.
Her impression of the generous "big sister" soared—this sister was so kind to her!
Seeing her new friend troubled, Nora grew anxious as well, racking her brain for anything her mother had ever said that might help. In the end, she came up empty-handed, lowering her head and apologizing, "I'm sorry, sister…" Then, her eyes lit up with an idea. "How about you come live at my house? My sister got married and moved out—I have a whole room to myself now!"
"Thank you, Nora. Where is your house?"
"Right over there!"
Erik made a mental note, asking Nora for the precise location of her room. Then she asked, "When does the Dragon King Festival begin?"
Nora knew this answer well. "The 4th!"
"What day is it today?"
Nora tilted her head. "It's the 1st!"
The festival would begin on the fourth day of the instance—they had three days left.
"In the morning?"
Nora shook her head earnestly. "No, sister, it's in the afternoon. After sunset. That's what my mom said. She told me not to go out that night."
After bidding Nora farewell, Erik and Emery resumed their search for clues. Adults were hard to get information from, but children—sweetened with small gifts—were far easier to sway. Candy, ribbons, hairclips, biscuits… boys or girls, these children from an isolated mountain village were easily won over.
Though their information was fragmented, sometimes it was surprisingly useful. One little boy, for instance, offered this unsettling tidbit overheard from his grandmother:
"Sister, my grandma made your food! She's been preparing it for a long time now. She said it has to taste really good so you'll eat lots and lots!"
He said it hoping for praise, but Erik felt a chill crawl up her spine.
Elaborately prepared food… wasn't that just like seasoning and marinating a fish before it's cooked?
The players were the fish on the chopping board—being fattened and flavored before being offered to the Dragon King.
When they returned to the lodge, the others had yet to arrive.
Though Emery lacked experience, she wasn't dull. Silently, she had observed Erik's approach, recording every detail the children revealed. After organizing her notes, she quietly offered her theory: "Do you think we're the sacrificial offerings for the Dragon King Festival?"
When Erik nodded in agreement, Emery was both pleased and dismayed.
"It's just… I don't know how to avoid it. Maybe the others have found something?" She had no interest in feeding any so-called Dragon King. The idea that such a creature actually lived in the river was clearly the foolish belief of backward villagers.
"Let's wait for the others to return."
Soon, Delilah and Josephine came back. Their faces were grim. "The NPCs are very guarded. The moment we ask about the Dragon King Festival, they either dodge the question or quickly leave. The kids are slippery like fish—you can't even catch them!"
After Josephine's complaint, Delilah added, "This village survives on fishing. We saw fish-drying racks and a few small paddies for rice and crops. We tried asking if there was a supermarket or shop nearby—there's only one tiny general store with outrageously high prices and limited stock… This village must rely heavily on outside trade for food and essentials."
After she finished, Erik shared the findings from her team.
"You got that much out of the kids?" Delilah was surprised.
Since the adults had proven difficult to engage, she and Josephine had taken a more observational route. She hadn't expected Erik's team to glean so much from children.
Emery felt a little guilty. She hadn't contributed much and now realized how effective Erik's methods had been—she'd nearly scared Nora off earlier. She said with a red face, "It was all Erik. I didn't do anything." Then she quickly added, "Erik used candy and snacks to win them over. The kids really listened to her."
Josephine was startled. "Where did the candy and snacks come from?"
Erik replied calmly, "I have an item that lets me store things. I bought some at the transit hub—just in case."
"An item? What do you mean by that?"
Delilah, who was familiar with items, looked on enviously. "Functional items like that may not help against vengeful spirits, but they sure are handy."
When Josephine finally grasped what an item was, her eyes sparkled. "So it's possible to get an item in this instance too?"
"Not so easily," Delilah said, shaking her head. "I once got one by chance while fleeing a ghost. It cost me all my points to bind it—over a year of progress gone in a flash."
"Can I see it?" Josephine asked.
"It's broken," Delilah sighed. "Shattered to pieces—can't even store it in the inventory anymore."
Josephine turned hopefully to Erik.
But Erik had no bound item—just a cache she couldn't afford to reveal.
"Sorry," she said coolly. "It's… inconvenient."
The mood turned cold. Josephine looked like someone had thrown a bucket of water over her head—first awkward, then irritated, and finally, angry.
Emery opened her mouth, but no words came.
At that tense moment, Brooks and his team returned.
Sensing the mood, Brooks chose not to ask questions. He simply poured out their findings in one breath.
"We followed the river. There are a lot of abandoned stilt houses. We searched them one by one and found a pile of fish bones in one of them. When we asked the villagers, they refused to say anything. Then we found this." Brooks lifted a bag from the floor and upended it, revealing a single bone.
"Look at this. Doesn't something feel off?"
They all knelt to inspect it. Emery didn't dare touch it. Delilah prodded it with a stick. "Strange… it looks almost human, but not quite."
Erik picked up the bone carefully, studying it in her palm.
It was only half of a skull. She imagined its full form—it bore all the features of a human skull, yet it was thinner, narrower, elongated.
"Was there only one?" Erik asked.
"Just one," Brooks confirmed.
Something clicked in Erik's mind. "What about the fish bones? What did they look like?"
Brooks glanced at Silas.
Silas muttered under his breath—why did this guy never talk? He had no choice but to answer, "They looked like normal fish bones. Some were long, some short."
Still uneasy, Erik decided to inspect them herself.
But before she could head out, the sky darkened.
"Looks like rain."
Within seconds, the drizzle turned into a downpour.
*Pat… pat…*
Brooks suddenly turned.
"Footsteps!" Delilah said.
Everyone tensed.
Erik stood, eyes on the door.
*Pat… pat…* The sound moved from the stairs to the hallway outside. Who—or what—was approaching?
*Creeeak—*
The wooden door opened slowly. A hunched figure appeared at the threshold, a bucket in hand.
Everyone exhaled. It was the mute ferryman.
He set the bucket down at the door, then turned and padded barefoot down the stairs, the wet slaps of his feet echoing through the house.
Erik stepped forward and carried the bucket inside. A rich aroma wafted out.
She removed the small basket of bowls and chopsticks, then lifted the lid. The fragrance grew stronger.
They all leaned over to see a steaming, milky-white fish soup. Chunks of tender white fish floated beside tofu, mushrooms, and green vegetables—a feast for the senses.
*Gulp.*
Silas couldn't help swallowing. "Smells amazing," he said, reaching for a bowl.
"Don't eat yet." Erik stopped him, then shared her earlier discovery with the returning players.
That boy's words had set off alarm bells in her mind. NPCs going out of their way to prepare gourmet meals for players? Suspicious, to say the least.
Silas looked disappointed. "So we really can't eat it?"
"I won't. You can do as you please." Brooks turned and walked to his room.
Silas hesitated, watching him leave. "But if the Dragon King Festival isn't for another three days, won't we starve if we don't eat?"
"You can scavenge," Erik said flatly. "Just don't eat anything they provide."
"But we're already dead. Why are we still hungry?" Emery rubbed her stomach with a pained expression, glancing hopefully at Erik.
She had used all those sweets to win over kids—surely she could spare a bit for her own team?
"I have a few more candies," Erik offered. "Here, take them. It's not much, but it'll keep you going."
Each newcomer received two chocolates.
Silas unwrapped one and tossed it into his mouth, swallowing it whole. "This isn't enough."
Erik raised an eyebrow. "Then I can't help you." It was a gesture of kindness. There would be no more.
"How big is your item? Infinite space? You really only brought a few sweets?" Silas asked, ignoring the darkening mood.
"None of your business," Erik said curtly, retreating to her room. Emery hurried after her, even shutting the door behind them.
"Goddamn old players, acting so high and mighty!"
Delilah gave him a cold glance before turning away.
"Wait up," Josephine followed.
Only Silas and Weston remained in the living room.
Weston looked displeased. "Did you have to talk like that? Couldn't you be more tactful?"
"Tactful, my ass. You don't even dare speak up and you're lecturing me?" Silas sneered. "Fine. When I scrounge up more food, don't come crawling to me."
Weston's face flushed red. "We're newcomers—we should stay humble—"
"Humble, my ass," Silas hissed. "Are you stupid or just pretending to be? You heard them—they said not to eat anything the NPCs give us. Clearly they have backup plans! Why else would they be so calm? Didn't you notice how Erik only gave *us* candy? You think we can survive on two chocolates? When we're half-dead with hunger, we'll eat *anything.* They're using us as bait—to scout the way."