When Eric glimpsed the task card, her breath momentarily ceased.
"Let us each declare our assigned task times. Who holds the earliest mission, and who the latest?"
Drawing a steady breath, Eric awaited the responses of the other players.
The earliest task was scheduled for six o'clock—the very time the task cards were issued. Justin speculated that tomorrow's card distribution might likewise be at six.
"Observe for one more day to confirm; then we can forgo night watches and simply set alarms," he advised.
Among the latest assignments were three players, including Eric herself.
"Though other tasks show no discernible pattern, it's apparent the number of midnight tasks at twelve is rising daily. Tomorrow might see as many as four players assigned midnight missions," murmured the players, some growing visibly anxious.
Each dispersed to prepare for their respective challenges.
Eric fixated on her task card, weaving theories about where its hidden peril might lie.
"Why don't we discuss it together?" Stephen called out to Eric and Caroline. Bound by shared apprehension, the trio convened to analyze their task cards.
Eric's task commanded her to meet someone at the underground parking lot at midnight; Stephen's entailed stargazing atop the rooftop at the same hour; Caroline's was even more enigmatic—a request to set off fireworks at People's Park at midnight.
Their visages mirrored the same weighty concern, Stephen to the point of jittery nail-biting. The mere location of his task posed danger—would he plunge from the rooftop to a grisly demise?
Alas, their deliberations yielded no breakthroughs.
Details were scant, and the course of the missions fraught with unpredictable twists. All conceivable scenarios and solutions remained theoretical.
Ultimately, Stephen—who had proposed the discussion—was overwhelmed by anxiety, his condition deteriorating further.
"Sorry, I must leave now to scout People's Square and purchase fireworks," Caroline said, departing. Eric bid farewell to Stephen before heading off to inspect the underground parking garage.
Taking the elevator straight down, Eric found the parking lot eerily silent, the sole occupant.
Running her hand over the dusty hood of the nearest car, she surveyed several vehicles and noted that all seemed abandoned for quite some time.
After circling the lot, she found the chill pervasive yet no supernatural phenomena occurred.
Throughout the day, save for eating and resting, Eric roamed the parking area, committing every entrance and exit to memory with precision.
No players met their end before midnight.
Before undertaking her task, Eric attended another information exchange.
At 11:50 p.m., amidst the sympathetic or indifferent gazes of others, Eric entered the elevator bound for the underground parking lot.
The ride was uneventful.
"Ding. Parking level reached." The doors slid open, and Eric stepped out to await the stroke of midnight.
The instant the clock struck twelve, the air turned frigid, and despite the extra layer she wore, Eric shivered uncontrollably. Simultaneously, all the lights in the garage extinguished, plunging everything into darkness.
Afraid to stir or speak, Eric suppressed her terror and waited in silence.
Her wait was brief; moments later, countless red lights pierced the gloom, forcing Eric to squint against the glare.
As her eyes adjusted, she realized they were each crimson lanterns.
The eerie red glow illuminated the entire parking lot—or rather, the place designated for parking, but what if it was no longer for automobiles?
Bathed in the sinister glow, Eric's cheeks flushed red, though her pallor remained ghostly white.
Where cars once rested, rows upon rows of coffins now stood, each crowned with a red lantern.
The parking lot had transformed into a graveyard!
If the zombified coffins in the elementary school dungeon had once horrified Eric, now encircled by so many, her fear had numbed into cold, paralyzing shock.
Clenching her fists, she regained control over her shaking limbs and glanced back; as she feared, the elevator had vanished—she was trapped.
Drawing a deep breath, Eric steeled herself and began to move.
Cautiously navigating among the coffins, one suddenly trembled, its lid quivering with audible thuds in the eerie silence.
Startled, Eric sprang away, sprinting to safety before daring to look back—but the moving coffin was gone without a trace.
Eric, suppressing the creeping dread that sent shivers down her spine, continued her cautious patrol among the coffins. From time to time, a coffin would tremble, and though her initial startle gradually gave way to a numb acceptance, she marveled at the human capacity for adaptation. Once, she couldn't even bear to watch horror films, yet here she was, walking amidst a sea of coffins. If she were to recount this to her friends, they'd surely disbelieve her.
Coffins were everywhere, numbering in the hundreds. The worst-case scenario—and the most probable—was that the client, Miss Wang, lay within one of them. No matter how much Eric resisted the thought, she knew she'd have to initiate contact with the coffins.
"Is Miss Wang here?" she called out.
She repeated the question three times, eliciting tremors from several coffins but no definitive response.
It seemed this approach wouldn't yield an answer. Perhaps she'd have to inquire individually?
Bracing herself, Eric selected a coffin that appeared clean, free of bloodstains. She steeled her nerves, retrieved white glutinous rice from the supermarket, and prepared various protective measures before placing her hand on the coffin's surface.
The touch was icy. She gently tapped the lid twice.
"Is Miss Wang here?"
Having received no reply earlier, Eric expected silence again. To her shock, a voice responded:
"Who's there?"
A voice from within the coffin!
A chill shot up from her feet to the crown of her head. Eric steadied herself, recognizing it as a woman's voice. She bit her tongue hard, forcing herself to speak.
"H-Hello, are you Miss Wang?"
"No, I'm not. You've disturbed my sleep. Come in and keep me company…" Before the words faded, the coffin lid began to shake violently, threatening to burst open. Eric lunged forward, pressing down on it, and hastily fetched two buckets of water from the supermarket to weigh it down.
Yet the lid continued to resist. The voice inside seethed with anger, "You insolent wretch! When I get out, you're dead!"
The buckets toppled, and Eric was thrown into disarray. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a slender, black-nailed finger emerging from beneath the lid. Her pupils dilated, her breath caught, and she stammered, "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Let me make it up to you. My family owns a supermarket—whatever you need, I'll give it to you! Food, drinks, snacks, milk, or daily necessities, we have it all!"
The shaking ceased. The voice hesitated, "A supermarket?"
"Yes, a supermarket. Anything you want, I'll give it to you!"
Silence followed, leaving Eric uneasy. She couldn't fathom why, in a previous dungeon, Julie had been swayed by the baby cream and hat she'd offered, sparing her and allowing her to pass.
If supernatural dungeons, like ordinary ones, were game constructs reset after each player's attempt, why had Julie accepted her gifts? Did those items persist after the reset? Did NPCs retain memories from previous iterations?
Eric couldn't unravel these mysteries, nor could she dwell on them. This endless escape game was too enigmatic for her to comprehend.
For now, she only hoped the female ghost in the coffin would be swayed by her offer and let her go.
"Do you have chocolate? The XX brand. It's been so, so long since I've had it. I used to love their chocolate balls," the ghost's voice echoed wistfully.
Though Eric detected a note of nostalgia, she dared not empathize or sympathize. She knew failing to satisfy the ghost's demand would spell disaster.
Fortunately, the supermarket did stock that brand of chocolate balls.
"Yes, we have it!" Eric replied immediately.
"Really? Show me."
Eric retrieved a heart-shaped box of chocolates from the supermarket but hesitated before handing it over. "I've disturbed you, and I'm truly sorry. If I give you this, will you let me go?"
Upon receiving an affirmative response, she placed the box at the base of the coffin and swiftly retreated. Trusting the ghost's word only partially, she kept her eyes on the coffin as she backed away.
The lid continued to tremble, making Eric's eyelids twitch.
The ghost's slender hand emerged from the crack again, followed by a shoulder. She stretched out to grasp the box, then withdrew her hand, and the lid snapped shut.
Only then did Eric dare to breathe.
Having narrowly escaped, she realized she was drenched in cold sweat, her clothes soaked through. The surrounding chill cut to the bone.
Not daring to delay further, Eric decided to approach another coffin. Just as she reached out, a thought struck her.
How foolish!
The ghost in the previous coffin had been somewhat "negotiable." Why hadn't she asked if she knew Miss Wang?
Eric was filled with regret.
But regret was futile; she had to find a way to make amends.
She withdrew her hand, refraining from knocking on the coffin before her. Though it had been carefully chosen, the temperament of the ghost inside was unknown. It might be wiser to return to the chocolate-loving ghost.
With this in mind, Eric hurried back to the previous coffin. As she turned, the coffin behind her gave an indignant shudder, accompanied by the sound of nails scraping against wood. Startled, Eric quickened her pace and glanced back. The coffin merely trembled in place, its occupant silent but for the persistent scratching, a sound that conveyed unmistakable frustration.