The Miner's Warning

　　Aiden sat vigil by the bed all night, braced for any anomaly. But to his surprise, the night was eerily calm. There was no knock at the door, no music from the radio, not even the sound of footsteps in the hall.

　　Only the occasional chime of the church bell marked the passage of time: eleven, midnight, one in the morning... until the sky began to pale with the first hint of dawn.

　　As the morning light filtered into the room, Aiden realized the salt circle must have worked. Or perhaps the radio, with its flashing Morse code, had protected him in some way.

　　He heard faint sounds from downstairs, signaling that Martha had started her day. After washing up, Aiden went down to the lobby and found that, besides Martha, a stranger was sitting there—an old man.

　　He looked to be in his sixties, dressed in worn work clothes, his face covered in a thick beard. His hands were calloused and cracked, like old leather. But it was his eyes that stood out—deep, alert, and utterly unlike the mechanical gaze of the other "residents."

　　"Good morning, Mr. Aiden," Martha nodded to him. "This is Tom Jackson, one of the old miners in town. He wanted to have a word with you."

　　The old miner looked up at Aiden, his eyes conveying a sense of urgency. "You're new, aren't you, son?"

　　"Yes." Aiden sat down opposite him. "Is there something you need to tell me?"

　　Jackson glanced around, and after confirming the lobby was empty, he leaned in and lowered his voice. "Did you run into a man named Jack? Middle-aged, wears a tan jacket?"

　　Aiden nodded. "I did. He said he's been here three months."

　　"That's him," Jackson's expression turned serious. "He came to your room last night, but you didn't open the door. Is that right?"

　　"How did you know?" Aiden asked, surprised.

　　"Because I'm in Room 8, right next door to you," Jackson said, pulling a small hand mirror from his pocket. "I use this to keep an eye on the hallway. That man, Jack... he was there. And he did have a shadow."

　　A wave of guilt washed over Aiden. Maybe he really had turned away an ally.

　　"But you did the right thing," Jackson continued. "In a place like this, being too cautious is always better than being too trusting. Now that you've proven you have good judgment, though, there are some things I think you should know."

　　"What things?"

　　Jackson glanced at Martha, who gave a slight nod, permitting him to continue.

　　"The rules of this place are a lot more complicated than they look," Jackson said, pulling a small, worn notebook from his coveralls. "I've been here fifteen years. Watching. Recording. The *Newcomer's Guide* is just the basic version. The real system of rules is much, much bigger."

　　Aiden thought of the handwritten notes in the margins of his own guide. "You mean there are other rules?"

　　"Not other rules. Deeper layers of the same rules." Jackson flipped his notebook open. "Take the radio incident. The basic rules give you two options. But the best choice was actually a third—don't follow the guide completely, but don't follow the inn's warning completely, either. You find the balance point."

　　Jackson tapped a page in his notebook. "I've found that these rules are alive. They change depending on the situation. Sometimes, following them to the letter will save you. Other times, you need to bend them to stay safe. The key is to understand the logic behind them."

　　"And what is that logic?"

　　"Protection and control," Jackson said, a complex emotion flickering in his eyes. "Most of the rules really are there to protect us from certain threats. But at the same time, they're meant to keep us from learning the truth."

　　"What truth?"

　　Jackson was silent for a long moment before he spoke. "This place wasn't created naturally. Back in 1920, the miners dug too deep and found something. After that, the rules appeared, and the town... changed."

　　Aiden immediately thought of the abandoned mine mentioned in the guide, marked as the most dangerous area.

　　"Are you saying the source of the rules is in the mine?"

　　"Not just the rules," Jackson closed his notebook. "The existence that created all this is in there, too. But the point isn't what *it* is. The point is how we coexist with it."

　　"Coexist?"

　　"You think you can just leave this place?" Jackson gave a bitter laugh. "I used to think so, too. Tried more times than I can count. Failed every time. It took me years to understand. Instead of trying to escape, you have to learn how to survive *in* here."

　　Aiden felt a surge of disappointment. "So there's no way out?"

　　"I didn't say there's no way out. I said escaping isn't the only option." Jackson stood up. "Some people choose to fully integrate, to live like those automatons out there. It's safe. Others choose to stay aware, to accept the risks but keep their minds. And some..." he paused, "...some learn to negotiate with the system."

　　"Negotiate?"

　　"When you understand the mechanics of the rules well enough, when you prove you have enough wisdom and value, this place might give you more choices." Jackson walked toward the door. "But that takes time. It takes patience. And most of all, it takes staying alive."

　　He stopped at the doorway and looked back at Aiden. "If you decide to dig deeper into this place, remember three things. One: never fully trust any single source of information, including me. Two: observe and record every anomaly. Three: find reliable partners, but test them carefully."

　　After Jackson left, Aiden sat in the chair, processing what he'd just learned. This wasn't a temporary prison; it was a complex, living environment. The goal wasn't just to escape, but to understand, to adapt, and maybe, eventually, to find a way to bargain with the system itself.

　　"You shouldn't know so much, so soon," Martha said suddenly, her voice pulling him from his thoughts. "Knowing too much too quickly can be more dangerous than ignorance."

　　"But without knowing, how can I survive?"

　　Martha sighed. "Surviving and understanding are two different things. Many people have lived here for years without ever questioning the mechanics behind it all. Tom is different. He wants answers, so he takes on more risk."

　　"Which way do you think is better?"

　　Martha considered this for a moment. "It depends on what kind of life you want to live. If you only want safety, learn to act like the other residents. If you want more..." She handed Aiden a small cloth pouch. "These are birch wood shavings. If you decide to explore the deeper secrets, you might find them useful."

　　Aiden took the pouch. "One more thing. If I run into Jack in town, can I trust him?"

　　"You can. I saw him come looking for you last night," Martha said with a small smile. "He's one of the few who is both wise and kind. And after last night's test, I believe the two of you could make good partners."

　　Aiden understood. Relationships here were forged through tests—not out of malice, but out of the necessity of ensuring one's allies had the judgment to survive.

　　He decided to find Jack, to apologize, and to begin truly understanding this place. Leaving might not be an option for now, but if he could grasp the mechanics of this world, he might find a better way to live—and maybe, just maybe, find the real way out.

　　As he walked out of the inn, Aiden noticed the "residents" on the street. Their behavioral patterns were slightly different today. Though they were still repeating the same actions, the timing and details had been subtly altered, like a complex program running a minor self-optimization.

　　It brought Jackson's words back to him—*the rules are alive, they change.* Perhaps learning to read those changes was the true key to long-term survival here.