Eldritch Horror Theatre

Fu Qian had already imagined every possible scenario for what might be his final extra turn to act.

The current situation, however, was undoubtedly one of the worst.

An unknown identity, an unknown location, and an unknown objective.

Most critically of all, he was still stuck with an uncleared negative status.

Fu Qian didn't care about the hit to his Combat Power, but a vital question remained: since the Warehouse couldn't lift or pause this condition upon entering the mission, would it rewind the time spent once the mission was over?

If this extra round ended only to reveal it had burned through his actual countdown, that would be a twisted joke indeed.

He needed to assess the necessity of this mission as soon as possible, starting with these upcoming visitors.

Maintaining his stance, Fu Qian turned to look deep down the Corridor.

...

They moved quickly, but not fast enough to avoid riling up The Prisoners.

The sheer, morbid excitement in the resulting clamor spoke volumes about the mental state of his fellow cellmates.

Not all of them, of course. Fu Qian's own emotions didn't even ripple.

In a typical story, remaining dead silent was the hallmark of a truly dangerous character, the kind who often drew the most visitors.

The owners of the footsteps soon stepped into his line of sight. Just as he expected, they headed straight for the end of the Corridor.

Two men and one woman.

The man in the lead looked around forty. He was in good shape, neatly dressed, and carried himself with an easy grace, clearly serving as the guide for the pair behind him.

The man and woman following him were younger and looked travel-worn by comparison. They wore similar outfits and appeared to be the actual visitors.

Unlike her male companion, who was silently taking in their surroundings, the young woman seemed entirely at ease. She walked almost shoulder-to-shoulder with their guide, her bright eyes fixed on him in attentive listening.

"Right here."

At the guide's prompt, all three came to a sudden halt.

...

Was this the so-called leaking roof in continuous overnight rain?

Watching their movements, Fu Qian could only sigh inwardly once again.

Because a rather awkward scene had just unfolded: the trio had stopped exactly one cell short of the end of the Corridor.

In other words, they were close, but he wasn't their intended target after all.

They were here for his next-door neighbor.

Still, the rule about silent inmates attracting visitors hadn't been broken. His neighbor had yet to make a single sound throughout the entire commotion, and remained dead silent even now.

Even with all three visitors staring straight through the bars, she simply sat curled up in the corner, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees.

"Wake up, little girl."

Her visitors clearly didn't appreciate the cold shoulder.

The middle-aged man in the lead slapped the metal bars.

"You have an aunt and uncle here to see you."

...

Unfortunately, not a single peep came in response.

Through his sharp perception, Fu Qian saw it clearly: the female inmate dubbed 'little girl' merely lifted her head from her knees, gave them a single, dead-eyed glance, and buried her face again.

"Little girl?"

The male visitor, who had remained completely silent until now, voiced his confusion. He seemed puzzled by the guide's choice of words.

"There is a saying about having a child living deep inside your heart. Obviously, our Ms. Esther here fits the bill."

"Nine years and five months old. Kind and wholly innocent."

The guide had looked mildly annoyed by the inmate's complete lack of reaction, but seeing that the two visitors weren't rushing him, he quickly smoothed away his stiff expression. He offered a mocking explanation.

"Of course, based on a series of test results, we lean toward the theory that she merely 'believes' this little girl lives inside her. It's a coping mechanism to handle the memories of the massacres she committed... or perhaps, a way to derive pleasure from them."

"What massacres?"

The female visitor looked thoughtful. She stepped forward to tap the metal bars, greeting the inmate as she casually pressed for more details.

Unfortunately, her gender didn't afford her any special treatment. Ms. Esther remained silent and didn't even spare her a second glance.

"She slaughtered at least four entire families. And she genuinely believes she was the victim in every single one of those cases, which is exactly why she is locked up here."

"Though, how could you two not know that? Isn't that exactly why you're here—"

The guide's voice sharpened with sudden suspicion, then came to an abrupt halt, as if he had bitten off his own tongue.

Because without him even noticing, two wickedly sharp Spikes had been pressed flush against the underside of his jaw.

His skin offered zero resistance against those curling, purplish-red edges. In fact, a thin trickle of blood was already running down his neck.

What was even more bizarre was that the Spikes were protruding directly from his own collar.

"Wrong. We are here precisely because we don't believe that."

The female visitor's voice instantly shifted, dropping into a lazy drawl.

"Of course, you'll need to keep talking when the time comes."

"You aren't..."

Despite the sudden ambush, the guide's reaction wasn't slow.

"We aren't. Everything we showed you was forged. Though if you ask me, that's exactly what people like you deserve."

The female visitor smiled and shook her head, her tone cryptic.

"So, would you mind opening the door for me, Dean Glenn?"

"How is this possible... We checked you thoroughly. You didn't have any weapons on you..."

To think the guide was none other than the Dean himself. Glenn couldn't hide his bewilderment, muttering his disbelief through barely parted lips so he wouldn't cut his throat on the Spikes.

Trapped in his rigid posture, he couldn't even tilt his head down to see what kind of weapon was currently threatening his life.

But one thing was certain: the two people standing before him were extremely dangerous... and masters of disguise.

"What are you trying to accomplish? This is pointless. Even if you rescue her, you'll never make it out of here."

While voicing his doubts, Dean Glenn didn't make any pointless stands on principle. He produced a key and unlocked the cell door.

"You wouldn't make it even if I helped you with everything I had. At the end of the day, I'm just a glorified guard."

"That's because you don't understand a thing. As long as we get her out, we're guaranteed to escape."

When she hit the word 'rescue,' the female visitor's tone shifted, taking on a very particular inflection.

"Hey there!"

She didn't leave any room to analyze her words. The very next second, she turned back to the cell and cheerfully introduced herself.

"I'm Mariana."

The girl still showed absolutely no reaction.

"I know you really are only nine years and five months old."

Mariana didn't seem to mind the cold shoulder.

...

At that moment, the inmate inside the cell finally reacted.

She slowly raised her head. After sparing Mariana a single glance, her eyes locked instantly onto the woman's hand.

A curling pattern—resembling both creeping vines and branded marks—was writhing across Mariana's skin like a living creature.

Perhaps things weren't so unideal after all.

And she wasn't the only one watching that strange mark.

From his cell right next door, Fu Qian was quietly enjoying the show, mentally bumping up the potential value of this little excursion.

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