Chapter 13

Chapter 13

"Are you sure? Those people aren't ordinary patients?"

The noisy atmosphere in the bar had quieted down. Clarence had sent other members out to collect protection money, leaving only a few with him. He listened to the report on the other end of the phone while casually smoking.

"Yes, I did a little background check on these people. Most of them are from out of town, seemingly in Arkham looking for work," the voice on the phone sounded somewhat perplexed, "And really, would that many people suddenly come for psychological counseling? They seem more like a group of fanatical fans than customers..."

Clarence's pupils narrowed sharply. "What did you just say?"

"Uh, many are from out of town..."

"Like a group of star-struck fanatics."

Fanatics... fanatical...

Zealots!

The term popped into Clarence's mind, but he shook his head the next second, dismissing it. No, it's not certain. He had never heard of any new religious movements cropping up in Arkham.

But the thought processes of these crazies were impossible to predict with any logic.

Three years ago, Clarence, then just an obscure thug in the Black Puckers, witnessed firsthand how the rival gang 'Green Steed', once on equal footing with them, was annihilated overnight by religious zealots for reasons unknown. Almost their entire leadership was wiped out in a single sweep.

This chaos plunged the gang members into disarray, and it was seizing this opportunity that allowed the Black Puckers to rise by taking over their territory.

Clarence, a mere foot soldier at the time, had seen the horrific state of the 'Green Steed' headquarters with his own eyes. The nightmarish scene haunted him for three straight days; it was a veritable hell on earth.

Since then, Clarence became exceedingly cautious. He realized that the world was far more complex than he had imagined, especially in this city where one should never mess with religious fanatics.

So now, hearing the report from the scene, he felt somewhat hesitant.

His underlings waited silently beside him, exchanging glances, until one of them couldn't help but ask, "Boss Clarence? What should we do? Shall we abandon the plan?"

Clarence snapped back to reality and looked at them.

"No, of course not. But before we make a move, I need you to do something for me."

Truth be told, Clarence himself was quite inclined to give up, but as a member of the Black Puckers, giving up without even trying would undermine his position and authority within the gang.

After all, gang members could be hotheaded or brutal, but they could never be cowards.

At the same time, he didn't want to send his men to their deaths, so he devised a plan to probe whether those people were really as he suspected...

Meanwhile, elsewhere.

As various speculations circulated on the forum, players' enthusiasm for Lann once again surged.

It was to be expected, after all, since they were dealing with the Fourth Calamity, and players had the opportunity to reroll their characters once a day. Even if Lann wasn't as hostile and didn't tear up any character cards, the players would probably flock to him the next day regardless.

This game's death mechanics are different from ordinary games. Combining tabletop RPG gameplay, after death, total attribute points are retained, but players can reallocate them, effectively rerolling their character.

The player's actual level influences the character card's attributes. Death results in level loss, and the character card becomes unusable.

Simply put, to the people in this world, player death is final (players can't use the same character creation data again), but for the player, the previous character card is indeed dead. However, the cost of death is low at present, as the character cards haven't been fully developed – if it dies, it dies.

Thus, Lain's slight coldness had no deterrent effect on the recklessly curious players on the fourth day of the catastrophe!

Of course, the players also got smarter. Under the guise of seeking psychological therapy, they paid to consult and formed long queues outside Lain's therapy room. Lain was happy with this arrangement, and with both sides willing, their relationship finally reached a mutually acceptable balance.

Lain thought that once they realized he wasn’t a deity, just an ordinary person, their enthusiasm would gradually fade. Then he could use the money he earned to leave the city, a win-win for everyone.

Until a third party began to interfere.

The player ID 'Matcha Milk Green' came out of the therapy room contentedly, glanced at the setting sun, and pondered how to make money in the game. The consultation fee at Lain's wasn't cheap; a few more visits might leave her broke.

For other players who wanted to seriously experience the game, one visit to Lain was enough. But she wasn't here for the game; she had no interest in advancing the plot. She played purely for Lain's appearance.

He was just too handsome, wuu wuu.

Just sitting across from him and talking made Matcha Milk Green feel blissfully content, perfectly erasing the fatigue of a day's work. Could any other game offer such joy?!

Oh, maybe real-life hosts are similar, but the joy of 2D characters is incomparable to the mundane real world! She doesn't even have to spend real money!

Decided, she can reroll a new character card every day. She's going to become a happy and wealthy lady, communicating with Lain daily!

Matcha Milk Green happily thought of a solution and was about to log off for the day when, passing an alleyway, she heard a rustling sound.

A black bag-like object flashed before her eyes, obscuring her vision, and then, accompanied by a strange scent, she knew no more.

When she woke up again, everything was pitch black. Matcha Milk Green was a bit dazed. She tried to move but found her limbs immobilized, as if tied to a chair.

The cloth over her mouth was pulled down, and she heard a voice.

"No one can save you here. You'd better think carefully about whether you want to make futile struggles or cry for help."

Matcha Milk Green was startled. What did this mean? A kidnapping?

Why kidnap a player? What had the player done wrong?

Matcha Milk Green tried calling the system menu in her mind and, seeing the blue screen unfold before her eyes, was completely unfazed. While logging into the player forum, she asked like a proper victim: "What do you want to do?"

So calm again.

The man with a tattoo on his left arm frowned as he scrutinized the blonde woman, saying, "Don't be nervous. We just need you to answer a few questions. As long as you answer them obediently, you'll be released."

"Ok, no problem."

"When did you arrive in this city, and what are you here for?"

"Just arrived today, obviously to work. Can't you tell?"

Matcha Milk Green replied smoothly, further confusing the tattooed man.

Why is she so calm?

Why is she even questioning me?

If only one victim were this composed, he might understand.

But why are even two or three people who have been kidnapped so calm?!

Don't they feel afraid?

The tattooed man exchanged a glance with his companion, "What exactly is Lain's real identity?"

"Uh..." Matcha Milk Green hesitated for a moment, "I don't know."

And they all stubbornly stick to the same story.

The tattooed man sneered, "You don’t even know who he is, yet you loiter around him every day? Do you think I'm an idiot?"

Matcha Milk Green remained silent.

Ah, these days even NPCs are concerned about what players are doing?

Speechless, Matcha Milk Green intended to post a rant on the forum. But before she could, she noticed there were already several similar posts.

"It seems I've been dragged into some kind of incident! I'm being kidnapped right now!"

"What’s going on? I was just walking and suddenly got kidnapped?"

Matcha Milk Green quickly assessed the situation; it was similar to hers, being kidnapped while walking, and being asked similar questions.

And all of them were questioned about Lain.

So... they were actually targeted because of Lain?

Matcha Milk Green pondered while responding.

Matcha Milk Green: "I’m also kidnapped right now, any good ideas?"

Don’t Call Me A Long: "No, currently being interrogated..."

Don’t Call Me A Long: "They asked me about Lain, but I really don’t know. I said I don’t know Lain’s real identity, they didn’t believe me. I said I’m here for his looks, they didn’t believe that either."

Don’t Call Me A Long: "After a few rounds, I was dragged into a room and beaten. Fortunately, I turned on the pain blocker, so I’m physically fine. This feeling of being tortured is quite novel."

Matcha Milk Green: "Uh... I heard the person interrogating me getting impatient. I hope I won't be tortured too."

Don’t Call Me A Long: "Probably. Just activate the pain blocker, and then it's like watching a show. But what faction do they belong to? I don’t understand why they're targeting Lain."

12l: "Is it possible that you've gotten involved in some faction conflict? Oh wow, does this mean the game's storyline is finally progressing?"

As several kidnapped players began to interact through the forum post, the thread's popularity soared, with players flocking to offer advice and speculation.

13l: "Could it be true, like Black Cat said, that Lain is a dormant malevolent deity? These people are clearly investigating his identity, hence why players hanging around him are getting caught."

14l: "If Lain is one, then who's investigating him? Some sort of investigator organization?"

15l: "Their way of doing things doesn’t seem right. I can’t believe the investigator organization would just randomly grab people off the streets for interrogation. How is this different from a criminal gang?"

16l: "Hiss— Could it be Black Cat was right? The investigator organization is actually bad? The malevolent deity is good?"

17l: "I can't accept this qwq. Is this a world where everything is upside down? Too OOC, no, I can't accept it!"

18l: "Don’t jump to conclusions so quickly. Can't it be some other faction interfering? Lain might not necessarily be a malevolent deity; maybe he’s targeted for something else."

The post was filled with a myriad of speculations, but none about how to save themselves. 'Don’t Call Me A Long,' frowning, temporarily closed the forum and refocused on the game.

Just as he opened his eyes, he was doused with dirty water.

Don’t Call Me A Long: "..."

Although all his senses were blocked and he knew it was just a game, the various strange smells and garbage hanging over his head felt so real.

Reason told him not to dwell on the origin of the water.

"Quite brave, aren't you? To daydream at a time like this," mocked a gang member, looking at A Long's angry expression. Pleased with the effect of the water, he turned to the others and said, "Hey, fetch another bucket from the sewer."

Ahhh, don't say it!

A Long, who was a cleanliness freak in reality, was instantly enraged.

What a crappy game! I'm not playing anymore!

"Ready to talk now?" the interrogator asked him with a smile.

A Long forced a smile, coldly retorting, "Talk? Of course, I'll talk."

"Who is he? He is... a god!"

After saying this, A Long immediately disconnected from the game and destroyed the card.

The card's dirty! I can't keep it!

"What did you say?" The interrogator's face changed. Just as he was about to grab A Long by the collar for clarification, he was swiftly pulled back by his quick-reacting comrade.

A Long's body, losing support, fell to the ground. His eyes were empty and lifeless. As the interrogator watched in shock, A Long's face and body developed black spots as if burned, and gradually turned to ash.

He had vanished.