Editor: Dragon Boat Translation
The world map before Ren Suo was dense with selectable cities, scattered like myriad stars. Just trying to filter through them by sight alone could have made him squint until he went cross-eyed.
In the top-left corner of the world map were the displays: "Remaining Days: 10 days" and "Desire Collection Amount: 0." The icon for "Desire Collection Amount" was a cup.
In the top-right corner of the world map, an option for "City List" appeared. Clicking it revealed a list of cities sorted alphabetically.
The data for each city primarily included: "Land Area," "Population Flow," "Country," and, in blood-red, "Concealnt Concentration."
"Concealnt Concentration" indicated the number of ’custors’ hidden in the dead of night. A higher concentration ant there were many ’custors’ who didn’t appear during the day at all, instead enduring their hunger and hiding desperately in the darkness.
Ren Suo could choose to engage in "Ghost Walking" in one city for all ten days, or he could "Ghost Walk" in a different city each day—as long as his ga character survived the night, it was fine.
Then let’s just pick one at random...
Sorting the cities by "Concealnt Concentration," Ren Suo quickly found his target: Ben Gang, a city ranked tenth in "Concealnt Concentration" and represented by three skulls.
Ben Gang City wasn’t far from Lianjiang and was one of the major import and export ports of the Mysterious Country. In fact, one might say Lianjiang and Ben Gang were practically intertwined, sharing similar languages and customs. As a child, Ren Suo had often watched TV dramas and animations from Ben Gang, though he had never actually visited the city.
Having selected the city, the next step was to design his character.
Ren Suo then decided to indulge himself. Last ti, in ’Mage Under the World Tree,’ he had played as a male character throughout. Shouldn’t he try a female character this ti?
Besides, frankly, if you went out for a late-night snack, wouldn’t it be sothing to sit before a beautiful stall owner? You could watch her diligently prepare your food, occasionally bending over and revealing her lovely curves. Her beautiful face, glistening with sweat from the rising steam, would then break into a smile as she handed you your al...
Ren Suo smacked his lips. Anything was possible in dreams. In reality, when he went out for a late-night snack, the most he got was a stout canteen lady who, with a THWACK, would shove a plate of spicy crawfish in front of him.
To make his dream a reality, Ren Suo chose an Eastern female template that matched his aesthetic preferences and started the ga directly.
The screen plunged into darkness once more. When it lit up again, he saw a female stall owner pushing her food cart into a forest park, lit only by a few sparse, dim streetlights. From a fleeting glimpse of a signboard, Ren Suo saw the two words: "Kowloon."
Along the way, Ren Suo noticed so vagrants sleeping in the park and even one or two patrolling security guards. However, they seed oblivious to the female stall owner as she pushed her cart to a desolate corner before stopping.
The female stall owner parked her food cart, quickly lit the lamps, hung up the nu, and washed the utensils. She glanced out at the pitch-black, deserted park, then bent down to retrieve a griddle. As she straightened up, the first ’custor’ appeared before her stall.
It was a man whose age was difficult to discern.
He had a kind of cold, lancholic handsoness. There were crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes, yet he looked quite young overall. He wore a long-sleeved tracksuit, the kind suitable for running. His hair was sowhat disheveled, his eyes were dull, and he sat quietly on a high-backed chair placed by the stall.
Ren Suo hadn’t heard his footsteps or the sound of him sitting down at all.
"What would you like to eat?"
This wasn’t Ren Suo initiating the conversation; it was the stall owner’s pre-programd, automated voice. She looked at the man in the tracksuit, her tone devoid of joy or sorrow.
The man glanced at the nu. "You haven’t listed the prices."
The female stall owner tapped the wall on the left side of the food cart, where a sentence was written in eight languages: "One life, one fine al. Paynt first. Small business, no credit."
The man nodded. "One bowl of luncheon at and egg noodles, and a bottle of mineral water."
The female stall owner began to prepare the al, first handing him a bottle of mineral water. anwhile, the man said, "My life... is quite boring.
"When I was a child, my father had an affair and left us, never to return. My mother raised alone and even sent abroad to study. After returning, I couldn’t find a decent job, so, to follow the trend, I beca an actor.
"I never really made it big in acting. Then, one day, I took the plunge and beca a clown. On screen and off, I pretended to be an eternally happy clown. Audiences, colleagues, directors—they all saw that way. The roles I played were always those of a character who brought laughter to others.
"But I know I’m not that kind of person. I’ve tried to change, but it was aningless. Once the mask has been worn for too long, it can’t be taken off.
"It seems my parents’ failed marriage has also affected . I was fortunate to et a few wonderful girls, but as we grew closer, as soon as they caught even a slight glimpse of the true self behind my mask, they all left without exception. I understand; no one should have to be another person’s emotional dumping ground.
"Then, I..."
At that mont, the man’s voice suddenly beca a double voice, eerie and grating. Strange black smoke rose from his body, converging above his head into a phantom with a fierce face, similar to his own but painted with teary makeup and exaggerated purple lips.
The phantom stared intently at the female stall owner, its eyes, the whites far exceeding the irises, shooting out a chilling gaze.
"...I’m hungry."
"I really want to eat those people’s faces. They smile so joyfully; their faces must be so elastic, so delicious, right? What do you think?"
The man lifted his head. The whites of his pupils turned black, and his irises turned white. Blood vessels bulged beside his eyes, thick and knotted. A faint, sword-like coldness actually emanated from his mouth.
The mineral water bottle he held actually began to form beads of condensation. This occurs when airborne water vapor condenses on a cold object, much like when Ren Suo drank cola and saw droplets on the can.
Although he didn’t know the in-ga ti, Ren Suo recalled seeing holess people sleeping on benches in short sleeves and tank tops on his way there. This suggested it was still the hot month of August.
This man wore a long-sleeved tracksuit and could exhale cold air. The water bottle in his hand had even chilled remarkably quickly.
The female stall owner, anwhile, had finished preparing a bowl of luncheon at and egg noodles. However, she didn’t hand it over imdiately. Instead, she pulled open a drawer:
"Which seasonings should I use...?"
The drawer revealed a dazzling array of seasonings, making Ren Suo’s head spin: "Hope," "Joy," "Calmness," "Father’s Love," "Mother’s Love," "Regret," "Anger," "Love," "Understanding," "Freedom," "Humor"... There were dozens of them.
Is this the gaplay segnt? Ren Suo was montarily stunned, not yet understanding what to do. He randomly chose the seasonings "Joy" and "Love." Then the ga prompted again: "How much to add...?"
The screen displayed two columns labeled "Joy" and "Love." A clueless Ren Suo raised the levels in both columns to the halfway mark.
Ren Suo then saw the female stall owner use a spoon to take three scoops of yellow crystals and three scoops of pink crystals from two small jars, and quickly poured them—SWISH! SWISH! SWISH!—into the luncheon at and egg noodles.
These seasonings dissolved instantly upon hitting the noodles and broth, vanishing without a trace.
The female stall owner pushed the bowl of luncheon at and egg noodles toward the man. "Your luncheon at and egg noodles are ready."
The man silently picked up the wooden chopsticks and ate all the noodles one mouthful at a ti, then the ham sausage, then the egg and vegetables. Finally, he lifted the bowl and drank all the remaining broth.
"The taste is rank. The Joy is so overwhelming it’s suffocating, and the Love chokes like a fishbone. And..." The man looked at the female stall owner. "I’m still so hungry."
Ren Suo blinked. Does he want another bowl?
"Unfortunately, I no longer have the life to pay for another bowl of noodles."
Faster than one could say it, the ga screen instantly shattered, transitioning to a turn-based battle scene!
The man was completely engulfed by the phantom. His tracksuit instantly transford into a purple suit. His face, painted with teary makeup, looked as if it were crying, yet his exaggeratedly purple lips were stretched into what seed like a smile:
"My life is like this, so why aren’t you laughing? Don’t you find it funny? You all love to laugh, don’t you? LAUGH!"
The enemy’s Health Points were 800/800. That doesn’t seem like much, Ren Suo thought, then checked the female stall owner’s Health Points: 50/50.
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