The Ghost Town Crisis on the Eve of the Parade Festival

On the first day of the month, the players enter the instance. By the seventh, the ghostly NPCs of the town host a grand parade, during which they derive great pleasure from hunting "rats." She suspects that this day, the seventh of July in the lunar calendar, marks the opening of the ghost gate.

Only on this fateful day can the ghost town and its inhabitants shed their disguises and revel openly in their true, spectral nature.

What else could the parade festival be but a masquerade of death?

The six days prior offer players a fleeting chance to seek survival. "Rats" refer to those who have not merged with the randomly appearing "body parts" in the instance.

Players who assimilate items such as eyeballs are treated as one of their own by the ghostly NPCs and are thus spared.

And the ancestral shrine—how could one forget it?

There is no apparent danger in the early days of the instance, save for the shrine. Its menace lies in its very presence, blatant and ominous. Should a curious player venture near, they are swiftly slain and reborn as ghost players. These vengeful souls retain their thirst for clues and mercilessly hunt those who possess them.

Yet, the existence of ghost players inadvertently points others toward the truth.

Eric shared her insights with William and the others. William concurred—this instance likely followed that very logic.

"There are certainly traps. The shrine, for one, is an obvious snare set to lure the reckless. We were fortunate. Those four unfortunate players… paved the way for us."

Joshua remarked, "But what if no one investigates the shrine? Wouldn't we be left in the dark about how to use the talismans?"

William replied calmly, "Someone always will."

Out of the thirty-two players, someone was bound to be coerced or deceived into scouting the perilous path.

Joshua averted his gaze from William, a newfound wariness creeping into his heart.

Suddenly, he paled. "Wait—since this is a ghost town, what exactly have we been eating these past few days?" The image of the old woman who had hosted them flashed through his mind. How could a town filled with rotting corpses possibly have fresh ingredients?

"Ugh!"

William turned white, but managed to compose himself. "That's the nature of supernatural instances. One can never be certain what they're ingesting."

Eric felt queasy, but thankfully, she hadn't partaken of the town's food.

Without another word, the trio returned to the old woman's cottage.

In the kitchen, they stood silently before a pot of lean meat porridge. The old woman had insisted they eat every last drop.

"I really can't stomach this—ugh," Joshua groaned in misery.

"Let's dump it quietly. Just make sure she doesn't catch on," William suggested.

Joshua clutched his points, heart aching. He had spent far too many during battles with ghost players. If hunger became unbearable, he'd have to use standard points to suppress it—an even greater pain.

To conserve energy and avoid worsening their hunger, the three lay down to rest.

Meanwhile, chaos erupted at the inn. It was the fifth day. The innkeeper appeared increasingly lifeless, decaying by the hour. By morning, players noticed the corpses of the innkeeper and his wife had not only stiffened but now reeked of rot. One brave soul reached out and easily tore away a handful of hair—complete with scalp and flesh.

The innkeeper, strangely unfazed, asked, "Is something the matter, dear guest?"—as though he felt no pain.

No one dared eat breakfast after that.

That day, some players discovered talismans and puzzled over their use. Others, still empty-handed, wandered the rain-soaked streets in restless despair. A few chose to gamble everything and approached the shrine.

But the parade had yet to begin, and the shrine remained a forbidden zone. Without question, it devoured those who entered.

Later, during their rest at the inn, players who had uncovered clues were suddenly attacked—by freshly born ghost players.

Angela recognized her moment had arrived. She harbored deep resentment toward Brian for deceiving her, but his trail had gone cold. Though she had planned to track him via the ghost players' movements, they had mysteriously vanished.

Worse than loss is to recover something only to lose it again. Maddened by imbalance, Angela chose not to reveal the strange truths she had discovered about the town. Other players who had seen William being hunted and begun to suspect something, also remained silent.

Hope rekindled when the ghost players reappeared.

"Seize it—take it first!"

Those in the dark followed instinct. If others were fighting for something, it must be valuable. Better to claim it first, questions later.

An NPC passing by glanced at the inn. In his eyes shimmered a trace of cruelty and malice—quickly suppressed. He moved on slowly.

"Out gathering firewood?"

"Yeah, but there's hardly any left."

"Don't worry. In two days, we'll have plenty! Just hold on."

"Yeah, just a bit longer. Once the parade starts, our good days will return!"

"We wait all year for this one moment!"

Back in the old woman's secluded courtyard, Eric remained obediently indoors. Knowing the outside world was far more treacherous, she resolved to stay put until the parade began.

Time dragged. To keep herself occupied, she exercised. William did the same. Joshua, unable to resist his loneliness, ventured out once and returned panting, breathless.

"I just gave a hint—told her how to use that thing—and got followed back. Shit!"

William frowned. "Did you lose them?"

"Of course I did! Wouldn't have dared return otherwise. Relax, I won't sell you out."

*Bang!*

Eric heard the noise outside and rushed to the window. She saw a player climbing the wall, eyes gleaming at the sight of her. "So this *is* their den!"

"Go!" Eric barked, vaulting out the window.

She had no intention of confronting the others head-on.

There was no time to scold Joshua for his recklessness. William followed, and Joshua scrambled after.

Having rested for two days, they were in peak condition. As the pursuers leapt down, Eric climbed the wall in a few swift motions.

She landed among more players. Without hesitation, she kicked one aside.

William and Joshua jumped down as well. Three against two—they broke through the encirclement and fled.

The ghost town looked even more dilapidated and menacing to Eric's eyes. Though the rain had stopped, a chilling white mist blanketed everything, teeming with vague silhouettes. She instinctively dodged them.

Their pursuers, however, saw nothing—only thick fog. One of them, after colliding with several ghostly forms, finally collapsed, frozen with fear.

By the afternoon of the sixth day, the parade festival was imminent. The ghost town was on the brink of awakening. Eric and her companions, who had gained an early advantage, were not rejected by the town's defenses. After shaking off their pursuers, they hid in the park. Concealed behind dead trees, they crouched in silence.

"S-sorry…" Joshua muttered, remorseful.

"Not now," Eric said. "Do either of you feel anything off?"

"No," William replied, relieved. "We're lucky. Once night falls, we'll return to the old lady's house and join her for the parade."

No one objected.

From their hiding spot, they could hear the voices of other players—shouting, sobbing, pleading. Some passed mere meters away, but never spotted them.

Night descended, and the mist grew denser.

They returned stealthily, only to find the old woman gone.

"To the shrine," William said.

On the way, Eric noticed the ghostly silhouettes multiplying. At times, she had to turn sideways to slip through. Spinning around, she found herself face to face—with a pair of ghostly eyes.

She held her breath, expression unfazed, and looked away.

"Little girl—" a ghostly voice called behind her. Eric pretended not to hear.

A cold hand touched her shoulder. Her heart nearly burst.

A ghost was *touching* her, greeting her.

Even with the talisman, fear prickled down her spine. *What if it fails?* Would she be torn apart by the phantoms?

"Little girl, you must be new here. Such fresh, lovely skin," the female ghost murmured, stroking Eric's face. "Still warm, too."

Eric's blood ran cold.

"Why so quiet, little mouse? Cat got your tongue?"

Feeling those sharp nails linger on her skin, Eric mustered her composure and blocked the hand.

"Don't touch. I quite like this skin," she said evenly.

The ghost giggled. "So stingy! Fine, I won't touch. I'll just go find myself a new one. I heard there aren't many rats this year… I hope I still get one."

The ghost drifted off, muttering. Eric was drenched in cold sweat.

Beside her, Joshua was also harassed, but escaped unscathed.

Only now did they fully grasp the power of the talismans.

At the inn, those without talismans huddled fearfully in their rooms. The innkeeper and his wife, now monstrous in form, stood guard at the doors like dragons over treasure.

"What do we do now?!"

"I don't know!"

"Where are the others?"

"They ran! Took the clearance items and left!"

One player peeked out a window. The mist writhed like a living thing. Though she could see nothing within, instinct told her unspeakable horrors lurked beyond. A wave of dread overtook her. She slammed the window shut.

Even through the glass, she felt eyes scouring her body—eager to feast on flesh and bone.

Tears streamed down her face. "Why did they merge the instance entrances?! I never wanted to join a paranormal one! I'm so scared…"

"No one fucking wanted this!"

The room thickened with despair. One player summoned courage. "We can't just wait to die. We need to escape! The ghosts are out—maybe the portal will appear soon. If we can find it, we can leave!"

"But we're safe in here—for now. Out there in the fog…"

"Better to risk it than die slowly. The innkeepers are guarding the doors!"

"At least they haven't harmed us—yet…"