An Unsettling Town and the Mysterious Eye

William and Brian ascended the stairs one after another, with Brian trailing behind into William's room. William had intended to refuse—after all, their alliance yesterday had been brief and circumstantial. It did not warrant further cooperation. But recalling the situation downstairs, he reconsidered. Perhaps, for now, safety lay in numbers. So he held his tongue.

"They went upstairs to change rooms. Two of them are now sharing a room with two others from that strange group," Eric said quietly.

"That player's guts are something else—bold enough to pat a stranger's shoulder when things are clearly amiss. Admirable courage," Brian quipped, throwing Kenneth a pointed look before turning to Eric. "So, Eric, what clues did you find in the bookstore? That player stuck to you like glue—I couldn't even get a word in."

William also turned his gaze toward Eric.

"Were there really clues in the bookstore?" William had been there too, albeit briefly—arriving after Eric, yet leaving before her. She hadn't lingered long enough to search thoroughly.

Though the three of them were currently allies, Eric was still unsure about the object trapped inside the canvas bag. In the dungeon game, relationships between players could shift from strangers to partners, or even rivals. She wasn't yet convinced this instance didn't involve competition. She dared not reveal what she had found.

She shook her head. "Kenneth heard me knock over some books and assumed I'd discovered something, so he followed me closely." She shrugged in resignation. "I spent the whole morning poring over books. My eyes are swimming with words—I'm dizzy as hell."

Brian groaned in sympathy. "Same here. My head's still spinning. Anyway, what's the deal with those four players?"

"They barged into the inn out of nowhere," William explained. "Came in shouting they were starving—slammed the table, demanded food. The innkeeper rushed to serve them. You saw them too—before Kenneth arrived, we tried probing them. But they didn't speak, just buried themselves in food. Their eating was so exaggerated it felt off. We were watching them when you returned. So I don't know more than you do."

Eric frowned. "Are we certain they went to the shrine before they disappeared?" It was still only speculation. If not the shrine—then what could've turned them into such ghastly versions of themselves?

"Unclear," William sighed. "There are too many players. The town seems small, but keeping track of everyone is exhausting. No one has the time to monitor others closely. Those who visited the shrine said it felt wrong—like a place that harbors ill intent."

**Knock, knock, knock!**

William's expression stiffened. He looked toward the door.

Though closed, the loud, heavy thuds from upstairs were impossible to miss.

Eric rose and gently opened the door.

In the corridor, a player was walking toward the stairs—unrelated to the sound.

It came from the second floor.

Could it be those four players? She hurried down the stairs and peeked up toward the second floor.

Sure enough, the four were climbing the stairs with stiff, mechanical movements. Every footfall landed like a cinder block, shaking the wooden boards with each heavy *thud*.

One after another, they lumbered toward their rooms.

One entered Room 203. Another, Room 205. Two went into Room 206.

One of the previous tenants of 205 had already moved out. Joshua, who had been sharing 203, acted swiftly—he not only vacated the room but also moved the ghost player's luggage into 205. Now, he waited anxiously, fingers crossed.

The best-case scenario? The ghost player would follow its luggage, freeing up Room 203. Then Joshua and another homeless player could take it.

Watching with bated breath, Joshua finally saw what he hoped for. His lips curled in satisfaction—it worked.

The four players returned to their rooms, guided by their luggage, and with two loud slams, the doors closed behind them.

Only then did the others dare step out and speak in hushed voices.

"What are they doing back? What do they want?"

"Are they dangerous...?"

"Be careful—they're seriously creepy."

Eric, too, felt a measure of relief. If the four anomalies stayed together, it was safer for the rest.

Brian relaxed, but with lingering dread. "Good thing you guys stopped me yesterday. I almost snuck into the shrine."

Risk breeds reward—the shrine screamed danger, but also whispered of clues.

"Let's go eat," William said. "We'll need strength for this afternoon."

Eric, as before, brought food upstairs. When she returned the dishes, she noticed no one dared sit at the table the four had used. With a heavy heart and busy mind, she quietly retreated.

Once William left the inn, Eric fetched the canvas bag from the supermarket. Since capturing it, she had been fending off Kenneth and the others. William and Brian were both sharp—too sharp to let their guard down around. Now, finally alone, she cautiously opened the bag, prepared for an escape attempt.

It was completely still—hard to believe this object had been darting around the bookshelf moments ago. Ever cautious, she gauged its size through the fabric, then grabbed an empty water bottle.

Quick as lightning, she cracked the bag open and tilted it—

**Tap tap tap!**

A black-and-white object fell into the bottle and immediately began to bounce with manic energy!

Startled, Eric quickly sealed the bottle cap tight.

**Tap tap tap!**

The small ball ricocheted wildly inside—like a high-grade rubber ball.

Too close. This thing could play dead! She was glad she hadn't let her guard down—had it escaped, she would've been furious with herself.

She stared at it, a strange familiarity creeping in.

Black and white... white base, black center...

Something clicked. She grabbed a mirror, examined her own reflection, then looked back at the ball.

It *did* look like an eyeball.

Replaying everything—the squinting bookstore owner, the way he clung to the shelves as he walked, the moment he lost his reading glasses and fumbled blindly—

And the sudden, darting motion of something between the bookshelves as he reached around.

She couldn't recall ever seeing his eyes.

She *had* felt something watching her from between the books.

Could it be… was this ball the shopkeeper's *eye*?

Perhaps it stirred because its master, blind without his glasses, was calling it back. In the bag, it had been silent—in the clear bottle, it thrashed. Because it could "see"?

Eric wrapped the bottle in a large black trash bag.

Instant silence.

It worked!

It calmed down when it couldn't see!

Now that she had figured out this eye's behavior, a deeper question lingered.

What use did this eye have?

Her instincts told her it was a key clue related to the town's parade festival, but the next steps remained unclear.

"For now, I'll keep it hidden," she murmured, tucking the bottle-wrapped-in-bag back into the supermarket. In a dungeon this full of players, there were bound to be other creepy body parts like this one. Patience was her ally.

Decision made, Eric rested briefly, then went downstairs again. She had to maintain the appearance of a clue-hunter.

On the second floor, she glanced at Rooms 205 and 206—the doors were shut.

That afternoon, she made up her mind to visit the shrine.

Other players lingered nearby, circling cautiously like her, but none dared to get too close.

The shrine remained locked, radiating an oppressive energy. Eric staked it out for an hour. Not even birds would fly over it. Locals avoided it as though it didn't exist—passing by without a glance.

Could the light ring… be inside the shrine?

Knowing how these games worked, it seemed likely.

But how to enter? And once inside, how to survive? Perhaps it would only open during the festival?

Other players seemed to suspect the same.

The entire town buzzed with talk of the festival—but no one could glean any real information. If only they could learn more.

William, too, visited the shrine later that day, staying half an hour before leaving. Umbrella in hand, she roamed the streets, scanning her surroundings with sharp eyes for any trace of the unusual.

A young girl ran toward her, soaked to the bone, tears mixing with the rain. A gap in her teeth revealed where a front tooth once was. Her butterfly hair ribbon hung wet and heavy, sagging against her head.

As she passed, something flickered in William's peripheral vision.

She stopped and looked back instinctively.

The girl was still running. Nothing seemed off.

But William trusted her instincts—she *had* seen something.

Without hesitation, she tossed her umbrella aside and ran.

Splashing through puddles, eyes wide in the rain, she focused on the girl—and beside her—

A thread. Barely visible in the downpour. One end dragged something along the ground, the other was tied to the girl. It bounced with her every step.

William rubbed her eyes, afraid she'd imagined it.

Gone.

But she kept chasing. Finally, she caught up.

The girl sobbed, rain and tears alike streaming endlessly.

This time, William saw clearly.

A fine string trailed from the girl's mouth—at the other end hung… a tooth?

Childhood memories surged. Her mother tying loose baby teeth to a doorknob with string, slamming the door, the sting of pain followed by warm embraces.

But why was she seeing this *here*, in an NPC child?

No time to think. William lunged for the string—this was her first real clue in days. She couldn't let it slip away.

Two hours later, Eric encountered William at the inn entrance, now clad in a dry outfit.

William offered a sheepish smile and lifted a bag. "Took a fall. Had to buy a new set of clothes."

Eric glanced inside.

"You're not hurt, are you?"

"No, just soaked. Rain's really not good for exploring."

"Tell me about it."

They exchanged knowing looks, then both turned away, silently hiding their discoveries.