Eldritch Horror Theatre

Task number two. Wingdings: ⌛︎🖲︎⬧︎♒︎◆︎⌧︎📬︎♍︎□︎❍︎

Though the name sounded a little wet and slippery, a task with such moderate difficulty felt like a return to a peaceful life.

Fu Qian promptly started the task, offering an optimistic assessment of the day's workload.

Though he had officially ascended to False God—becoming one of the few high-Rank existences in this world—a principled expert like him would never let that affect his professional dedication.

Or his perfect attendance, for that matter.

After all, even during his recent excursion to the Other Shore of the Stars, he hadn't missed a single punch-in.

Beyond his own professional work ethic, the Warehouse had also displayed a remarkably cooperative attitude—whether during his time in the Sacred Night Capital or throughout that alarmingly perilous rescue operation.

While he didn't view it as a personified entity, Fu Qian certainly didn't mind reciprocating the courtesy.

For instance, he understood its urgent need to maintain world peace and readily accommodated its hasty adjustments to the task cycle.

Dull in color, formless and intangible, it resembled an oppressive glow that flowed and spread like liquid...

Yet, despite being difficult to describe accurately, the impression it gave was unmistakable: it was inexplicably gross, and he had absolutely no desire to get any of it stuck to him.

Fortunately, the moment he confirmed the task, the system prompts rapidly appeared, leaving the sludge no chance to creep any closer.

...

[Daily work commenced. Entering Containment Scenario 2-020.]

[Current SAN Value: 83. Current inspiration: 99.]

[Select the skills and Items you wish to carry.]

With skills and Items available for free configuration, the system's style was becoming increasingly accommodating.

Deeply satisfied, Fu Qian routinely selected everything to confirm, bringing along all that was convenient to carry.

[...8%... 13%... 21%... 34%... 55%... 89%... 100%. Containment Scenario loading complete.]

[As one of the world's top bustling metropolises, Loss possesses an occult atmosphere unmatched by anywhere else.

This stems not from faith, but from practicality.

Astrology, channeling, divination... Countless mediums gather here to answer people's questions, banish their sorrows, and even help them find lost pets.

Even though the vast majority of them—including the most prominent figures—are merely ordinary people, they firmly believe they have mastered the rules governing how the world operates.

One consequence of this overconfidence is that Loss never lacks for incidents that defy imagination. In fact, the occult scene here is even more active than its world-famous harbor, The Port.

Even so, the local Night Watchers aren't particularly troubled by this constant activity.

They passed a city ordinance long ago, pushing these incidents—most of which ultimately prove to be the work of ordinary people—onto the police to handle.

And today, as one of those thousands of mediums, you are about to welcome a special visitor of your own.]

...

A capital of mediums, a holy city of the occult... No matter how you framed it, it sounded exactly like the kind of place where Ms. Kisaragi Chie had fallen from grace.

Judging by that last sentence, he was actually going to be a peer of that second-rate diviner this time around.

The Warehouse had even arranged a business venue for him.

As the task introduction concluded and his five senses returned, Fu Qian silently offered his critique while surveying his surroundings.

He could only say one thing: the place possessed absolutely zero occult atmosphere.

He came to a conclusion very quickly.

It was no exaggeration. Unlike Kisaragi Chie's Fortune Teller's Cabin, the room before him looked like a completely ordinary apartment.

It wasn't particularly new. He stood in a somewhat cramped living room, and a glance through the balcony window revealed that he was quite high up.

Outside, a forest of towering skyscrapers crowded together, perfectly capturing the bustling claustrophobia of a major metropolis.

That wasn't too surprising, though. While lesser hermits hid in the wilderness, the great recluse hides in the market. It was perfectly normal for a true master to operate right out of the central business district.

The only problem was that, at a glance, this small living room was brightly lit and minimally decorated. Looking around, there wasn't a single item related to the occult in sight.

There wasn't even a deck of playing cards.

It was the polar opposite of the highly atmospheric Fortune Teller's Cabin.

You couldn't even tell what tools he was supposed to use to provide his services later.

Even the service provider's appearance completely lacked the demeanor of a medium.

Fu Qian glanced down at himself. His plain outfit and featureless clothes made him look exactly like the most ordinary office worker in this vast city.

...

As expected of a place with top-tier, cutthroat competition. Was contrast marketing really taken to such an extreme here?

Yet, despite the jarring disconnect between the scene and the task introduction, Fu Qian felt nothing but genuine admiration the next moment.

Everyone knew that when competition reached a fever pitch, packaging was crucial if you wanted to stand out from the crowd.

With every other occult practitioner wrapping themselves in the aura of a grandmaster, the sharp contrast of natural simplicity became its own unique form of packaging.

His current identity had undoubtedly pushed this concept to its absolute limit. It might seem incongruous at first glance, but with a little thought, it was guaranteed to deliver a powerful psychological impact to any customer who walked through the door.

A true expert never complained about their circumstances. After instantly profiling his new identity and locking in his marketing strategy, Fu Qian walked over and pulled a business card from a box on the side.

The font was standard, the design was plain—a fine continuation of his established style. It was just the name...

Even as he appreciated the consistency of this persona, that plain name—completely devoid of any professional title—made Fu Qian blink.

[Grimshaw]

It wasn't unfamiliar in the slightest. Not long ago, in the Nightmare where he had been imprisoned as the Cannibal Painter, he had used this exact name...

The Warehouse was usually rather casual when fabricating identities for him, but in a city so steeped in the occult, chalking this up to pure coincidence would be wildly unprofessional.

Especially since this wasn't the only coincidence.

Click!

Casually shutting the equally plain business card case—which barely bore a single decorative pattern—Fu Qian turned his head and carefully inspected his current appearance in a full-length mirror nearby.

It wasn't his true face, of course.

Brown hair, green eyes, and facial features that radiated a wise and gentle disposition.

Aside from looking a bit younger, it was virtually identical to the face he had worn while serving his sentence in that prison.

When he first noticed this during his sensory recovery, Fu Qian had briefly wondered if this face just naturally exuded a grandmaster's aura, prompting the Warehouse to lazily copy it over.

But paired with the identical name, it didn't feel like pure laziness anymore.

Was it deliberately reusing an identity from another world as a disguise, hinting that he needed to keep a low profile?

Although the task prompt had yet to appear, a wealth of speculations had already begun to swirl in Fu Qian's mind.

At the same time, the task introduction was clearly nothing if not professional.

Toying with the business card in his hand, Fu Qian looked up at the dark brown security door.

Behind that heavy door, a hand was hesitantly rising and falling, seemingly unable to muster the resolve to knock.

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