Gary found himself in an awkward predicament; revealing this secret was far from his intention.
The more players aware of such an item, the fiercer the competition would become in future paranormal dungeons.
Though the item was hard to obtain—and often one received death instead—Gary, pressed to the brink, dared only then to unveil the bridal veil atop the corpse of the deceased bride, inadvertently uncovering this secret.
He expended most of his points to bind the ominously charged veil, which promptly appeared under the "Items" section of his personal inventory.
Once bound, the veil granted Gary an auspicious safeguard in spectral dungeons, easing his endeavors considerably.
Alas, after seven uses, the veil's protection waned and rendered ineffective.
While resting roadside, he clutched the relic wistfully—only to be caught in the act by Sarah.
Though a deactivated item could no longer be stowed in the "Items" slot, its malevolent aura remained palpable to all.
Faced with Sarah's probing, Gary's mind turned; as an experienced player, he surmised the finale of the weeklong trials would be fraught with peril, demanding each player to showcase their prowess. Despite his item's expiration, two others among the group seemingly wielded similar artifacts.
Initially reluctant to disclose, he recalled the item's minuscule drop rate—having ventured through over twenty paranormal dungeons to acquire but one. Unable to procure another, he had resigned himself.
Now revealing the secret could at least compel those two holders to bear the brunt of risk during the culminating gala.
Though these gatherings appeared convivial, each harbored personal agendas; their own survival remained paramount.
Seizing opportunity, Gary divulged this arcane secret known only to the luckiest veterans.
"Alas, we are all castaways upon the same sea—no need to sow discord. Yes, it was I who spoke. I do not regret it. Knowing such life-saving items exist enhances player survival rates. Previously, my narrow thinking delayed disclosing this truth... But the midnight tasks' mortality rate chills my heart. Beyond midnight's stroke, now the seventh day, seven players will receive midnight challenges tonight. Having miraculously survived, I hope all may cling to a shred of hope."
News of this revelation rippled through the players, igniting fervent discussion and relentless inquiries.
"Joseph, do you possess such an item?" one player asked, casting a disappointed glance at Justin.
Justin shook his head. "I'd heard rumors but never found one myself. I thought it was fanciful storytelling until I saw this veil—its sinister aura unmistakable." He dared not touch it further, placing the veil upon the table.
Others questioned Eric as well.
Having swiftly absorbed this explosive news, Eric recognized the advantage it conferred upon her.
She could leverage an item to cloak her presence inside the Peaceful Department Store dungeon.
When Justin mentioned items had limited uses, she feigned that hers was discarded in haste at the parking lot and thus no longer functional.
Eventually, all eyes turned to Scott.
"What about your item? Care to show us?"
"No. It's private. The hour grows late, and there's one final mission. If you won't sleep, I must." Scott extinguished his cigarette and retreated to his desk.
Though hours remained before dawn, none could find slumber. Eric tossed restlessly, yearning for a chance to acquire such a relic; yet she knew well these treasures were elusive. Otherwise, word would have spread far and wide.
Those aware of these items unequivocally comprised a mere handful.
Contemplating honestly, would she reveal this secret once free of the dungeon?
She hesitated.
Her greed was undeniable. Though she possessed a department store aid, who could fault one for desiring yet another safeguard? She longed for revival—desperately so.
Turning restlessly beneath the covers, dawn arrived, yet no players received new task cards.
"What on earth is happening?"
"We must wait. Best not to venture out today, lest we miss vital information."
After washing and brushing her teeth, Eric hurried downstairs for breakfast. Nearing mid-morning, the NPC who had explained the dungeon on day one appeared.
"Thank you all for your tireless efforts these past days! The Employee of the Month selection draws to a close. Tonight, the winners shall be announced! Of course, you must complete the final assessment during the gala. Rest well, and meet me at midnight in the auditorium—don't be late!"
With that, the NPC strode away, leaving the players heavy-hearted.
"Are we fortunate or cursed?" Larry smiled wryly. "Tonight, seven players yet untouched by midnight tasks were slated to face them. Unexpectedly, all players must participate together. There's simply no escape from the midnight challenge!"
"Luck indeed! You survive one less midnight task than we!"
Among those who had braved midnight missions, Sarah seethed with indignation. The six survivors had planned for the remaining seven to undertake tonight's tasks—but instead, all were consigned en masse.
"In this game, notions of simple fairness or unfairness hold no sway," Justin remarked soothingly as he donned his coat and prepared to depart. "Tonight will doubtless be exhausting—I'm renting a room outside to rest properly. Do as you please."
Eric paused, then resolved to secure a single room herself; sleep deprivation had taken its toll and she required proper repose. Most of her tasks confined her indoors, and the dwindling funds in her dungeon wallet barely sufficed to book a room.
Reclining upon the bed—the first time in days she truly slept in one—she exhaled deeply in comfort.
Her mind was weary and disordered; the arrival of the item had irrevocably shattered her understanding. She pondered silently: solitary players found communication difficult, but what of the organizations at the transfer station? Take, for example, Natalie, the very first player she befriended, who persistently sought to recruit her into a women's mutual aid society—were they privy to this secret?
Though Eric wished to guard her own secret by avoiding membership, a natural fondness for the society lingered within her.
"Once home, I must find an opportunity to impart this news to them…" As for others, she would refrain from telling just anyone.
Having resolved this, drowsiness at last overcame the myriad unruly thoughts, dragging her into a profound slumber.
She slept soundly; when roused by her alarm, she lingered in confusion. Upon summoning clarity, she perceived the time: half past four in the afternoon.
After washing, she brewed instant noodles procured from the supermarket, ate until sated, and then leisurely returned to the building.
By about eight p.m., the thirteen remaining players assembled once more in the office.
At half past eleven, they descended together via elevator to the first-floor auditorium.
Though the auditorium doors stood wide open, aversion gripped their hearts, yet none could refuse entry. Each took seats deliberately distant from where the ghastly mouth had appeared; Eric chose a spot far removed, her tension mounting palpably as the moment approached.
At the stroke of midnight, the auditorium doors slammed shut. A figure materialized upon the stage—the very NPC who had welcomed them into the dungeon.
Eric held her breath.
"Welcome to the Huangquan Road Company's Best Employee Awards Gala! Tonight's rewards are plentiful, so let us forgo further ado and proceed with the performance evaluations. Please submit your task cards."
The NPC produced a box.
Players retrieved and deposited their task cards. As Eric dropped hers into the box, a sudden cry pierced the air: "My task card is missing! Who has stolen it?"
Eric's gaze snapped toward the commotion—could task cards truly be stolen? How was this possible—
A troubling thought struck her, frowning in concern.
Could players who had failed tasks be stealing to assemble a full set of seven completed task cards?
Would such a ploy succeed when each card bore the owner's name?
The accuser quickly fixed upon a target and lunged at Larry, who had just submitted his cards.
"It was you, wasn't it? You bumped into me earlier and seized my task card!"
Larry stammered, "I did not."
At that moment, the NPC counted aloud: "Six cards submitted. Alas, three bear names not yours—they shall not count."
Larry fell silent.
The NPC tossed these three cards onto the floor; the accuser hastily gathered them and confirmed they were indeed his.
"Larry, where are my other task cards? Return them at once!" He grasped Larry by the collar.
The spectacle exceeded Eric's expectations; she withdrew to the side, watching the unfolding chaos with a growing sense of foreboding.
Larry opened his mouth but only shook his head.
"Are you trying to die?" The player struck Larry's abdomen repeatedly. When Larry collapsed, the attacker proceeded to search him.
Nothing. He found no other cards on Larry.
"Larry, your conduct is dishonorable. Return those cards to Jacob." Justin interjected.
"They're gone—shredded and flushed down the toilet!" Overwhelmed, Larry broke down and shouted.
His fortune proved capricious—he had failed the initial two missions, yet admirably, the remaining tasks were less perilous. He even avoided the midnight tests, completing the last four tasks.
Departing the crowd, remorse and frustration wracked him.
The four completed task cards brought no joy—only bitter regret.
Just two tasks shy. Two tasks alone!
He could not bear it.
A dark thought gnawed at his heart, finding opportunity to manifest. The mental strain—indeed, the cumulative pressure since entering the game—had birthed a malignant impulse. After retrieving two cards, he slashed the remaining four into fragments and flushed them down the sewer.
Gazing upon the now pristine toilet, malicious release crept upon his visage in the form of a smile.
"Ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha!" Larry laughed uproariously, while Jacob appeared struck as by lightning, his lips quivering on the verge of collapse.