Find her
The New York morning brought with it a biting damp chill, the Columbia University dormitory buildings looming faintly in the morning mist. Alex sat at his desk, staring at the clue board on the wall, a notebook open beside him, recording his experiences from the previous night's return from that bizarre realm.
The Sound Thieves' weakness, Scarlett's red hair and scalpel, the stone engraved with strange runes—these clues were scattered like pieces of a puzzle. He knew the answers might lie hidden within "The Cryptid Society" website. He adjusted his glasses, the whites of his eyes laced with fatigue, and murmured, "She told me to look for a post... I have to try."
He turned on his computer, the cold light of the screen reflecting in his face. He logged onto "The Cryptid Society" website, a black page that was both crude and eerie, the font crooked, as if it were handwritten. He took a deep breath and began to search.
Scarlett hadn't specifically mentioned the title of the post, only saying it was a "hidden post," which left him at a loss. He started by typing "Sound Thief." The page jumped, displaying a slew of scattered posts, mostly content he had already come across. He frowned, then tried typing "Red Hair" "Scalpel." Nothing.
Alex leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples, recalling Scarlett's words: "If you want to know more, go to 'The Cryptid Society' website. Find me, if you can." The hint of a smirk in her tone made him vaguely uneasy.
He adjusted his approach, murmuring, "She mentioned the Sound Thieves' weakness... stone, occiput." He typed "Stone," and the page refreshed, showing a few posts, mostly titled "Strange Stones in the Sewers" "Stone Man in Central Park," but the content had nothing to do with his experience.
He stared at the clue board, his gaze falling on "Broadway"—the place where he had first entered the Sound Thieves' domain. An idea struck him. "The location might be key," he murmured. He tried combining keywords: "Stone Scalpel Broadway." His fingers tapped the Enter key. The page loaded slowly, finally displaying a response embedded in an inconspicuous post.
The title of the post was "Monsters of Broadway," and the content consisted of an anonymous user describing a strange experience in which they heard monsters roar in the misty alleyways of Broadway. Alex scrolled down, finding a response in the comments section.
The poster's ID was "SurgicalInternSCARLET," and the time was one day ago. The response read:
"Hunting in the Broadway alleys is fun. Those things have no eyes, and their occiput is nice and soft. One stab with a scalpel and a stone pops right out. You rookies, remember to bring a scalpel next time. Stop hitting them with sticks."
Alex held his breath, staring at the ID "SCARLET." Red hair, scalpel, Broadway—it all matched Scarlett's characteristics. "It's her," he whispered. He quickly clicked the ID to go to the personal page, but found a blank page that only displayed "User has hidden information."
He tried sending a private message, typing: "I'm the person you met in the alley last night. I want to know more. Please reply." He clicked Send and refreshed several times, but there was no response.
Alex shut down the computer, leaning back in his chair, a flicker of anticipation igniting within him. He knew that responses on such clandestine websites often took time. He stood up, adding "SurgicalInternSCARLET: Broadway Hunting, Scalpel, Stone" under "The Cryptid Society" on the clue board, writing "Waiting for Contact" beside it.
The day passed slowly and agonizingly. He was distracted in class, the professor's lectures on folklore theories washing over him like the rustle of wind. The image of Scarlett kept flashing through his mind—the red hair flashing in the mist, the scalpel precisely piercing the Sound Thief's occiput.
He returned to the dormitory, continuing to refresh the private message, but to no avail. As night deepened, the lights of New York twinkled outside the window. He sat at his desk, staring at the computer screen, the clock hands pointing to one in the morning.
Just as he was about to shut down the computer, an email notification popped up in the lower right corner of the screen.
He clicked it open and found an anonymous private message with the subject line: "Don't Be So Impatient, Kid." The time showed 1:30 AM, and the sender ID was none other than "SurgicalInternSCARLET."