The players engaged in analysis:
"Perhaps your mission was the safest among all the midnight tasks these past days! You're truly fortunate."
"Survival is what counts; it was merely an ordinary healing pack."
"Those little specters tormenting you into singing through the night might embody their resentment toward their parents... When performing in the auditorium, they hoped their parents would attend, but none came—that's their lingering obsession."
"I concur. Our quests all orbit around the company's machinations. You might represent a leader or client subjected to retribution. You encountered a group of soft-hearted spirits—they merely scared you into singing all night."
Eric pondered deeply; the assessment seemed plausible, recalling she herself had faced similar experiences.
Yet she suddenly noticed that Catherine and veteran players like Justin had remained silent.
It appeared none showed any eagerness to dissect Scott's account, as if his words held no value.
A pang struck her heart; she calmly reexamined the scene, a faint realization dawning.
Indeed, she had once concealed details of her midnight mission, attributing her success purely to luck.
Scott's tale now struck a disquieting resemblance to her own!
Upon careful reflection, Scott's narrative did not withstand scrutiny—much like her earlier rendition.
Unwilling to expose her secrets, yet reluctant to fabricate misleading tales, she had glossed over the coffin-opening ordeal, simply crediting fortuity for discovering Wang Cuifen's coffin on the first try.
Scott's approach mirrored hers exactly!
Clarity embraced her mind; feigning a yawn, Eric lowered her gaze.
She herself was uneasy.
Despite admiration from other players for his luck, Scott's demeanor remained stoic, utterly devoid of doubt.
The exchange concluded, and the group dispersed.
At 5:10 a.m., Eric was roused by the night watch. The earliest mission today was scheduled for 5:30 a.m.
Catherine barely uttered a word upon receiving her task before striding briskly toward the elevator and descending.
"Wonder what mission she got..." a player murmured.
Glancing at her task card, Eric saw hers was to clean the auditorium on the first floor at ten o'clock.
Likely the venue for the gala mentioned by NPCs on the dungeon's first day, Eric thought it prudent to familiarize herself with the space.
Before ten, she had all cleaning supplies prepared.
At exactly ten, she pushed open the auditorium doors.
At first, tidying proceeded uneventfully. After five minutes, a sudden stumble nearly caused her to fall. Steadying herself on a chair, she glanced downward—and discovered a mouth embedded in the carpet, opening and closing at her.
A mouth—or rather, a pair of teeth—was what had tripped her!
Absurd and grotesque, Eric took several cautious steps back.
The mouth continued unceasingly to gape, as if refusing to close without savoring something satisfying. Biting her lip briefly, Eric pushed the broomstick toward it.
"Crunch, crunch!"
The razor-sharp teeth sliced through the stick within seconds, shortening it noticeably. Hastily, she withdrew the broom, her eyes lingering on the jagged break, shuddering inwardly. A mere stumble barely spared her toes from being gnawed away.
Resuming her cleaning, Eric found no other mouths.
In the immaculate auditorium, the solitary mouth seemed glaringly incongruous; she understood "cleaning" must include removing it.
But how best to handle it?
She had tried opening the door—sealed tight, presumably locked until task completion.
What could she feed this mouth?
Perhaps she could attempt to extract it?
Carefully prying, she found the mouth was fused seamlessly with the carpet, impossible to remove without destroying the fabric.
Feeding it seemed the only option.
Using broomsticks, mops, rags—and fetching several buckets of water from the restroom—she offered all to the mouth.
It accepted everything devoured without pause, yet, curiously, she sensed its fury through the blur of its rapid opening and closing.
It remained unsatisfied.
"Then do tell me—what is it you desire to eat?" Eric inquired calmly.
The mouth opened and closed, its oral cavity resembling a black void; nothing was visible beyond the teeth.
Without a tongue, it seemed incapable of speech or clear expression of its wants.
However, based on Eric's experience, these entities likely preferred the vitality of the living.
Once, she might have tried drawing some blood from herself, but having endured nightmares like the Golden Tomb dungeon, she now cherished her flesh and blood more dearly.
After some thought, she retrieved a large slab of dinosaur meat from the supermarket.
Since human flesh was unavailable, she resolved to substitute with ample quantities of other meat, banking on volume to succeed.
And if all else failed, she would reluctantly offer her own flesh.
While dinosaur heads were scarce, plenty of dinosaur meat still lingered in the supermarket. Though the texture was less than palatable, Eric admitted its remarkable satiating power; a single steak-sized piece filled her more than two regular steaks ever could.
She placed a refrigerator-sized chunk of dinosaur meat before the uncanny mouth. Even as it devoured broomsticks, the grotesque maw continued to chew, resonant, muffled sounds stirring unease within her.
The ghastly sound threatened to drag her into the torment of the Golden Tomb's nightmares.
To divert her thoughts, Eric allowed her mind to wander.
Suddenly, the object beneath her hands shifted; startlingly, she realized much of the dinosaur meat had been gnawed away. She quickly refocused, steadying the meat to ensure this grotesque mouth feasted more comfortably.
Within ten minutes, the entire slab vanished. Observing carefully, Eric noted the mouth's opening and closing slowed discernibly.
"There's hope," she murmured, producing another piece.
After feeding it three chunks consecutively, she gingerly prodded it with a smaller piece impaled on a stick.
The mouth leisurely opened and bit, slowly chewing. From its cadence, Eric discerned faint traces of satisfaction.
It was satiated!
Then, the mouth sealed, and the carpet appeared as though an invisible zipper had drawn it closed, restoring its pristine surface.
The mouth had disappeared!
Eric hurriedly produced her mission card; under her watchful gaze, a blood-red lip print manifested upon it.
Mission accomplished.
Today marked the sixth day within the dungeon, with a daily task steadily draining Eric's body and spirit. Thankfully, this was the penultimate day; the dungeon now approached its denouement.
After nine o'clock, all players except six assigned to midnight missions—conveniently located outside the building—had returned. The rest had come back after their nocturnal tasks.
"I wonder what tonight's mission will be like…"
Once the briefing concluded, players observed the clock: 11:30 p.m.—only half an hour remained until midnight.
Eric intended to wait, but weariness overwhelmed her as midnight neared, and she succumbed to sleep.
Shortly after three in the morning, she was awakened by returning players.
Two had returned.
No one bothered going back to sleep, eagerly probing about their missions.
Before any exchange could unfold, a player named Sarah sneered at her. Before Eric could furrow her brow in confusion, Sarah's gaze slid over to Scott.
"I finally understand why some people skirt around the truth—I always suspected no one had such boundless luck!"
Leaning back in her chair, Eric feigned obliviousness, inwardly curious why Sarah suddenly pressed this matter.
Sarah's sneer deepened. "Do you take us for fools?" She threw forth a tattered piece of red cloth. The moment it appeared, Eric felt a menacing aura emanate, instinctively retreating two steps.
Others recoiled similarly.
"What is this thing? It feels dangerous."
"Miss, speak plainly if you have something to say; we don't understand your implication."
"It's nothing. You may not grasp it, but some do."
As Sarah spoke, her cold gaze once again swept over Eric and Scott.
"You two possess these as well, don't you? Just admit it; they're bound items—no one else can snatch them. Why hide it, acting all secretive and sneaky?"
Scott, roused and lighting a cigarette for composure, chuckled. "No need for insinuations. We're strangers who just happened to cross paths in this dungeon. The briefing is merely an exchange; believe what you will or not—that was agreed from the start. We each rely on our own merits, no one owes anyone anything."
Sarah trembled with anger. "I've never lied!"
"I haven't lied either," Scott waved off.
He merely omitted mention of possessing such items.
Aside from Catherine and Justin, most listeners were bewildered by the exchange.
"What on earth are you talking about? Stop speaking in riddles!"
Unexpectedly, Justin bent to retrieve the red cloth, unfolding it.
The ominous aura was palpable. Eric stifled her discomfort and recognized it as a tattered red bridal veil.
"This is an item you can obtain from paranormal dungeons," Justin explained. "When you touch it, the system prompts you to bind it immediately. Binding costs 444 points. Such items can ward off ghostly attacks, though their potency and uses are uncertain—all depends on luck."
These words sent ripples through the crowd; many players were astonished, unaware such items even existed! Eric's heart stirred—such a treasure for survival! Even if activating it cost 444 points… though she had only 130 now, she resolved that if ever she encountered it, she would not hesitate to bind it—costing all her points if necessary.
Scott exhaled smoke rings. "That's the story. I used an item—earned through risking my life and spending points. Why should I be obliged to reveal that? We all deserve some privacy. Besides, that item isn't yours anyway." He turned toward another player, Gary, who had accompanied Sarah but remained silent.
"Is it yours? Why wait until the item was utterly ruined to confess? Truly honorable and without concealment."
Eric followed Scott's gaze and saw a faint twitch crossing Gary's expression.