It had been a hell of a night. The only thing Holmes truly lamented was losing that cleaver.
Footsteps sounded at the door, making him freeze. Don't tell me the father circled back for revenge. To his surprise, Alice from Room 801 stepped out, wearing that mismatched smile. "So? My plan worked, didn't it?"
Holmes gaped—she was holding the feral specter girl, who wasn't unconscious but asleep. "What about her father and the kid?"
"She tore them apart," Alice said casually.
Holmes eyed the sleeping the girl. "What will happen to her?"
"She and I get along. Poor thing, I'll take care of her." Alice stroked its hair. "Rent will go up, but I can't ignore a sad child." Her smile seemed forced.
Holmes nodded, bid farewell to the twins, and turned to leave.
"Don't forget your debt," Alice called, grinning. "I'm Alice, Room 801. I'll collect when I want."
Holmes rubbed his temples. Out of one pit, into another. She'd played him—he did the dirty work, and now owed her. There was no way to refuse or reason.
As Holmes left, Alice turned to the twins. "Well done."
The elder sister met her gaze. "You're targeting him. The water tank mission was just to get close."
Alice laughed. "Clever. Did your sister give you all her brain cells?"
The sister said nothing. She only cared about her sibling, but knew: once Alice set her sights on someone, escape was near impossible. What does she want with Holmes? she wondered, hugging her sister. "What a miserable guy."
Holmes descended to the first floor. In the lobby, the landlord lounged in a wicker chair, gently rocking as a parrot in a nearby cage stared at Holmes, squawking: "Big fool! Big fool! The big fool is here!"
Holmes' face darkened. "Sir, the water tank mission is done."
Eyes closed, the landlord waved his fan. "Knew I picked the right guy. Efficient worker—cleared the gutter and tank faster than expected."
Holmes forced a smile. Great, maybe a 'Model Janitor' award?
"Still handled it poorly, though." The landlord tsked, praising and scolding in the same breath.
Survived a near-death job—what more do you want? Holmes grumbled internally.
"Shouldn't have involved Alice from 801. She's trouble—once hooked, you can't shake her." The landlord crossed his legs.
Holmes knew he meant the favor. "One step at a time, I guess."
"Think she helped out of kindness? The 804 family wasn't killed by their daughter—Alice did it. They're probably being eaten in her room by now."
"Eaten?"
"801's the deadliest room. You thought she lives alone? Naive kid—she uses others to kill residents, then feeds them to her room's original specters. That's how she pays 'rent'."
Holmes asked what he'd wondered: "What is the rent here?"
The landlord paused. "When you breached the wall, saw the bleeding bricks? That's rent. Spectral flesh keeps the building standing—more residents, sturdier walls. Your grandma's sachet? It's special—only she can sew them, so it covered three days."
Rising, the landlord lifted the birdcage. "Get some rest. Stay away from Alice—you can't handle her."
As the landlord shuffled away, system prompts chimed:
DING! Mission complete: +5 days food, +20 Spooky Strength, +220 EXP.
DING! Talent Shard collected!
+5% favor from 9 residents, +2% from landlord.
"Only 2%? Bosses are harder to charm than school crushes." Holmes shrugged off the panel. At least the talent shard made the night worth it.
It was 3:30 AM. Exhaustion finally hit, and Holmes dragged himself to Room 404, praying the night's horrors were over.
But Holmes soon realized something was wrong. The staircase... why did it seem endless?
He shone his flashlight on the walls, only to find he'd been circling the second floor for ages. "Ghostly disorientation?" Alarm bells rang. Climbing past the corner, he still faced the second floor. A specter is toying with me.
"Which brother is this? I'm just going up—haven't provoked you," he called, but silence answered. Holmes' face chilled as he drew another coffin nail: "There's a limit to bullying. My politeness doesn't make me a pushover."
A glass bottle rolled down the stairs, shattering at his feet, wine pooling on the floor. A greasy, obese man in a stained shirt squatted above, gnawing a chicken leg: "You broke my delivery wine. Know how precious that was?"
Holmes scoffed: "It rolled to my feet and broke. How is that my fault?"
The fatty's fleshy face hardened. "All I know is my wine's broken—and the bottle's at your feet."
Clearly targeting me with a ridiculous excuse. Holmes tensed. At night, rules vanished; specters attacked freely, even with a permit. "What do you want me to pay?" he asked, gripping the coffin nail. No nonsense—nail 'em when the chance comes.
"Why hold that nail while talking? Is that your apology?" The fatty sneered, swallowing his food.
The staircase suddenly trembled, steps sliding like a slide. Holmes staggered as his right hand was seized, the coffin nail torn away. Pinned to the wall, he watched the fatty drop the nail like a branding iron. "Where'd you get this? So vicious!"
Holmes froze—this specter wasn't after loot, but his life. A hidden prompt flashed:
[Fatty Specter is under orders to eliminate you. Reason: Unknown. Cement Specter assists in capture.]
"You dare glare at me? After breaking my wine?" The fatty's eyes glinted. His hand grabbed Holmes' abdomen, but the sweater rebounded, tearing a gash. "You have many treasures. But your clothes are falling apart."
The fatty ripped the sweater to shreds. At 95% damage, the backlash triggered—blood-red light seared his hands, flesh melting. Seizing the opening, Holmes swung his hammer, driving the coffin nail into the fatty's forehead.
Clang! The nail pierced through, eliciting a scream. "I said politeness isn't weakness! Here's your 'wine compensation'!"
Raising the hammer to sink the nail deeper, Holmes' wrist was snagged by a cement-covered specter emerging from the wall, dragging him into the concrete. "You almost got killed by a brat—embarrassing!" the Cement Specter jeered. "Wonder why we're after you? Reflect on your offended souls in there!"
Half his body vanished into the wall, concrete crushing him. The fatty, clutching his smoldering head, roared: "I'll gnaw this rat's skull!"
Holmes cursed, struggling as the world faded to gray. Who the hell did I piss off now?
Just as the Fatty Specter was about to pounce, a hunched figure materialized behind it."if my grandson has wronged you, shouldn't you hold the elders accountable? Why pick on a child?"Holmes stared in shock.
The Fatty Specter froze, then instinctively turned its head. In the next instant, a translucent hand covered in corpse spots reached out and pressed down on the coffin nail.The nail sank deep into the specter's skull. Like a red-hot iron piercing foam, the Fatty Specter didn't even scream as its head burst open, brains melting into a pool of blood.
Its obese body collapsed onto the stairs.Gaping at the ruptured skull, Holmes turned to the hunched Grandma, taking a sharp breath. Why is Grandma here?
"Grandma, what are you doing here?"She didn't reply, only smiling gently under her silver hair, her squinted eyes shifting to the wall behind Holmes.
The concrete trembled, pushing out his half-embedded body as the Cement Specter fled immediately.Grandma chuckled, pinching a silver needle between her wrinkled fingers.
With a light slash across the wall, the sturdy concrete split like fabric. Transparent threads coiled around her palm, yanking the hiding Cement Specter into the open.
The naked, cement-covered specter cowered on the ground, trembling: "Granny! I had no idea he was your grandson—if I did, I'd never have touched him! The Fatty Specter egged me on! Spare me, and I'll guard your grandson every time he passes through!"
Grandma croaked with a hoarse laugh: "You knew he was my grandson, just didn't expect me to step out. Someone else ordered you—you have one chance to name them."With her hands clasped behind her hunched back, Grandma spoke softly, but her words reduced the Cement Specter to a trembling wreck.
Holmes interjected suddenly: "Grandma, no need to interrogate—I know who it is.""Very well." Without further question, Grandma's fingertips twitched in the air. A bloody line split the still-begging specter's forehead, and the next moment, its entire skin peeled back like an orange rind, revealing a corpse that rolled down the stairs.
Grandma lifted the bloody hide, nodding slightly: "Barely passable quality—can weave a doll for my granddaughter." She tucked the grisly skin into a cloth pouch at her waist.Holmes felt cold sweat bead on his back.
Good lord—how powerful is Grandma? But why had she left Room 404?
Logically, with their favorability still below 50%, this level of rescue seemed unprecedented."Grandma, why did you come here?"Tightening the pouch, Grandma looked at him and smiled slowly: "Old folks can't sleep at night. Came out for some air, planned to feed the stray cats downstairs— who knew I'd find my grandson being bullied.Eyeing the two spectral corpses, Holmes frowned: "Won't their deaths cause trouble?"
"Just 'parasitic' specters clinging to the apartment—crushing them is no big deal."Parasitic—Holmes recalled Emily mentioning such beings. These specters lacked rooms, surviving like parasites by doing menial tasks for the landlord, even more lowly than most players. Normally they only scared players for gear, rarely threatening lives—afraid of retaliation from resident specters.
But these two had clearly aimed to kill, which reeked of foul play."You know who ordered them?" the spectral Grandma asked."Jack." The hidden prompt had revealed the answer.
Grandma let out an "oh," her wrinkled face barely shifting."You know him?""Grandson of the Wang family in 703—they treat him like precious jade. But this old woman dislikes that slippery boy."Her words confirmed Jack hadn't built favorability with Grandma. T
hough they knew Jack was behind it, Grandma showed no intent to intervene—clearly unwilling to feud with seventh-floor specters.Holmes found this reasonable. After all, Grandma was just a fourth-floor specter; confronting seventh-floor residents would be risky.
Saving him was already a blessing.Still, he wondered: Just a few snide remarks, and he's out to kill me? He hated swallowing the insult, but Jack's maxed gear and experience made retaliation suicidal."Go rest—you've had a long night. Beware that woman tomorrow—her kind have no good intentions." With that, the spectral Grandma continued downstairs.
Holmes knew she meant the spectral mother, taking it as a heads-up for tomorrow's mission. "Bad in-law relations transcends worlds," he muttered, before returning to Room 404.