Eldritch Horror Theatre

Drops of dark red stained the slightly flamboyant orange cuffs. It looked a lot like blood that had briefly oxidized—or a careless spill while drinking.

Just as he was confident he could mix a drink that looked exactly like blood, Fu Qian was equally confident that, with his ordinary human constitution, he lacked the ability to distinguish the real thing at a single glance.

Clear self-awareness was a human Virtue.

Blood, wine, or Blood and Wine. Identifying it with just one glance at such a tiny trace—Fu Qian would never disrespect professional expertise like that.

Though even from a non-professional perspective, he could still arrive at an answer—

As a specially invited guest, Fu Qian's abrupt movement undoubtedly drew everyone's attention, including the person involved.

When they looked over and realized what he was staring at, Butters—who had urgently invited Fu Qian here—reacted as if he had been electrocuted, instantly yanking his hand back.

Rip—

He jerked away with so much force that his carefully prepared clothes actually tore.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the other two holding their breath. The air in the entire room felt practically solid.

Naturally, Fu Qian wasn't the type to care about the atmosphere. He merely sized Butters up with great interest, not even looking at the boy's hand, but rather at the mop of blond hair on his head.

It was said that extreme fright could make a person's hair stand on end, and today provided a perfect exhibition of that phenomenon.

Although it wasn't exaggerated enough to completely change his hairstyle, that smooth blond hair lost its sleekness at a speed visible to the naked eye.

"It looks like you got your sleeve dirty while drinking."

The delicate standoff lasted for about two seconds before Fu Qian finally nodded, gesturing at Butters.

"I trust you've finally realized the downsides of drinking?"

...

Although his speech was still clear, Butters reeked of alcohol. He had clearly indulged quite a bit before this.

The other two were in a similar state. Of course, they were slightly better off, having managed not to lose their jackets to the alcohol.

It wasn't surprising. A party's theme was often just a fresh skin; the things young people obsessed over usually boiled down to the same few vices.

"Wolf, you have to help me! I couldn't think of anyone else!"

Faced with Fu Qian's friendly reminder, Butters finally seemed to snap out of it. He lowered his voice, speaking so rapidly he sounded breathless.

"I really did drink a bit too much just now. I didn't expect that guy to be so frail... or to be so unlucky as to hit his head..."

Was he really playing the role of a Scavenger on this trip after all?

While Butters's words weren't very coherent, they still carried a lot of information.

For Fu Qian, it was very easy to picture a classic sequence of events—

Impulsive young people drinking and becoming even more impulsive, losing control of their emotions, getting into a conflict, and ultimately injuring someone by accident. Snapping back to reality in a total panic, they would make mistake after mistake until the situation spiraled completely out of control...

Although it required a fairly high degree of coincidence, it was still a plausible progression of events.

The problem lay with his own role.

The mission briefing's description of his character as calm and wise already sounded somewhat exaggerated. Judging from the current situation, just how 'wise' did he have to be for a 'friend' to commit suspected manslaughter, yet decide to call a minor to help clean up the mess?

Given this slightly abstract scenario, had the Warehouse been so lazy when crafting his persona that they just copy-pasted it from somewhere else?

Or perhaps—the role he was playing wasn't a Scavenger at all, but Don Quixote? Pondering this silently, Fu Qian didn't rush to respond. Instead, he looked around, found a paper bag, and handed it to Butters.

...

Butters looked a bit stunned, but he subconsciously took the bag and cupped it over his nose and mouth to regulate his breathing.

At the same time, Fu Qian was silently giving high marks to everything he had seen and heard along the way.

It was obvious the party had been meticulously prepared, and the drinks specially mixed. This 'friend's' reaction was also perfectly on point, fully capturing the sheer bewilderment of doing something terrible right under everyone's noses.

It was just a pity that, while he didn't like joining in on this kind of excitement, Fu Qian hadn't forgotten what day it was—All Fools' Day.

With such a concept in play, it was truly hard not to view the situation through an extra filter and consider the possibility of a prank.

It wasn't necessarily that all of this had been planned specifically for him. But deciding on a whim to add an extra event, fabricating an excuse to call him over, and then collectively enjoying a 'professional's' crisis management—that didn't seem entirely impossible.

Much like the knight of Rocinante being tricked into a duel with a magician.

Of course, that would mean Mister Wolf's character profile would have to include a severe case of chuunibyou.

So severe that people would believe he'd genuinely take on this kind of mess for a 'friend.'

Otherwise, if Butters had spoken up only to be met with a flat refusal and a goodbye, it would be a massive waste of these specially gathered extras.

Seeing Butters's breathing gradually steady, Fu Qian glanced at the other two. They had listened to his recount without showing the slightest surprise. Fu Qian furrowed his brow.

"You made me rush all the way over here just for this trivial matter? I could have helped you call the cops from home."

Faced with a situation that had multiple interpretations, he wasn't in any rush to confirm his theory. Instead, he played along with Butters's overflowing emotions and probed further.

It was just a severe case of chuunibyou—what couldn't a professional pull off?

It was just that his brand of chuuni might be a little different from what they were expecting.

...

For a character's image to be truly fleshed out, it needed to reflect the complexities within their personality.

As of now, the Containment Conditions still hadn't appeared. And considering he had just been complaining about the Warehouse's lazy character designs, Fu Qian decided to use this slightly complex situation to properly roleplay the character of Mister Wolf.

Sure enough, in response to his words, not only Butters but even the two sidekicks looked as if they had suffered a massive blow.

"...Stop joking around!"

Even so, the two sidekicks managed to hold their tongues. They simply stared in unison at Butters, their eyes brimming with a spirit that doubted and denied absolutely everything.

As for Butters, the calming effect the paper bag had finally achieved was almost entirely undone in that instant, falling short by a single basket of earth, and his body even began to tremble.

"We don't have much time. This place is going to close down soon... Someone will even come to inspect before then, we—"

Knock, knock, knock.

Amid the sudden knocking, Butters's words came to an abrupt halt. He glanced at the door, then whipped his head back to exchange looks with the other two.

They clearly didn't want their conspiracy disturbed; the door had been locked from the inside right after Fu Qian entered.

"They're probably here for me."

Amid the tense atmosphere, Fu Qian—who had just offered to help them call the police—actually nodded and spoke with absolute confidence.

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