Eldritch Horror Theatre

So he really hadn't been here before. Didn't that make Hake's behavior even more abstract?

Some things were like a cavity in a tooth: the deeper you dug, the more bottomless it became.

Jean, the waitress, hadn't disappointed him. She had served up one interesting piece of information after another.

Even if it only made the whole situation seem increasingly strange.

As considered earlier, the Old Man's motives were growing more and more suspicious. It had long surpassed mere rejection or distrust of a new colleague; it was a fundamental wrongness with the man himself.

Was Hake the Old Hunter?

The deduction leapt to mind quite easily.

When it came to two missing people, the person with the highest stakes in this town wasn't necessarily an ordinary police officer.

Based on the timing of his objective's appearance, Fu Qian suspected those two might be connected to the White Key he was searching for.

Even Mister Hake's age fit the criteria for being "old."

Had he already started investigating to gain the upper hand?

He might even be on guard against Fu Qian. So, if Jean had given a positive answer, would he have tried to cover up the information?

With what he knew so far, this theory couldn't be disproven—but it was still only a possibility.

......

A crucial point right now was this Inner World he had discovered after applying some pressure.

Therefore, the previous events had to be considered with this transcendent influence in mind.

To put it bluntly, did the Hake who arrived early speak with Jean in the real restaurant, or in the Inner World?

If it was the former, his motives were highly questionable.

But if it was the latter, they were not only questionable, but driven by an additional motive: safety.

Jean's lethality was obvious. If she was a threat to him, wouldn't she be a threat to his competitor as well?

When facing such a threat, very few people would choose Fu Qian's insane method of handling it. Most would opt to get along peacefully and try to escape, naturally hoping to coax out some information along the way if possible.

And if you wanted to reduce Jean's hostility, what could be more suitable than the face of a local law enforcement officer?

Was that person really Hake? Or was it the Old Hunter disguised as Hake?

......

Exactly. One of Fu Qian's deepest realizations from his time in this line of work was never to hold out too much hope for the moral integrity of a higher entity.

It was true that his own abilities had been restricted in this race, but why should he assume his competitor's had been as well?

Was it possible that he, like Fu Qian in the past, could easily craft a new face?

It would be incredibly useful for investigating, confusing others, or anything else.

This was another possibility that couldn't be ruled out, and it was a much grimmer one.

It meant he had to face an opponent who still retained some transcendent abilities.

"Mister Hake... hasn't left?"

Though this grim reality wasn't an immediate crisis. He needed to survive first before worrying about it.

While he pondered this in silence, he noticed that Jean, having answered his question, still had her gaze fixed on Hake's seat.

Despite the unappetizing presentation, the pancakes and milk were still there.

That classic meal paired with that specific seat made it all too easy to spark a person's imagination—even for Jean in her current state.

And the final result of those thoughts was a glaring contradiction: Mister Hake had clearly left, yet he hadn't.

A normal person encountering this would probably suspect they were dreaming, let alone Jean right now.

Thus, after murmuring to herself, a visible shiver ran through her body—ironic, considering she was the source of the cold.

It was as if her programming had glitched, ready to erupt in a devastating manner at any moment—

"Hake... Mister Hake—"

As she repeated it for the third time, Jean violently snapped her head toward him, her shattered face twisting into the ferocious visage of a vengeful ghost.

Her equally shattered, bloodshot eyes locked onto him. It felt as if physical shafts of cold light were shooting out, piercing straight through to his lungs.

It wasn't just a metaphor. In that instant, the air Fu Qian drew into his lungs felt woven from sharp needles. He felt like he might cough up blood at any second.

Forces acted mutually. To apply extreme pressure, one had to be able to withstand it themselves.

Was using a Mortal Body to intimidate the transcendent too reckless after all?

"He isn't here... I sent him on his way."

His voice was low, his tone unchanging. In the next moment, Fu Qian picked up the handgun on the table, gently confirming Jean's suspicions.

He pressed the muzzle against his own temple for a moment, then turned it around and aimed at Jean.

"But don't worry. You have a chance to catch up with him right now."

Even as he comforted her, Fu Qian drew his other hand from his pocket and pressed it flat against the table, casually delivering a classic line.

"What's the most you've ever won in a coin toss?"

......

Exactly. With the pressure cooker about to explode, Fu Qian chose to turn up the heat, intimidating a tiger with a willow branch.

And he believed that even in Jean's current state, she wouldn't have a hard time understanding what the coin toss meant, nor what "chance" there was to be won.

"You... killed Mister Hake..."

Their eyes locked. The atmosphere became suffocating in the truest sense of the word.

It was obvious that between the continuous stimulation and cognitive dissonance, Jean's mental state was just as precarious as her physical body, ready to shatter at any second—but in the end, she didn't disappoint him.

When she spoke again between heavy pants, she had clearly understood Fu Qian's hint—

The food was here but uneaten; Mister Hake had been killed by this man.

And now the other party wanted to play a coin toss game. The reward for winning was being killed alongside him.

"What if I lose...?"

Whether it was the truth or the game, both were clearly hard to accept. Her gaze landed on Fu Qian's left hand, and she didn't agree immediately.

"That doesn't matter. Today is still a beautiful day."

The terms Fu Qian offered sounded quite generous, and his smile was warm.

"Your colleague skipped work again, and though you're covering the shift, it isn't busy. After the annoying customer leaves, you can chat with Maggie or look at the graffiti outside. Everything is quiet and boring."

Heh...

Although it sounded like a truly tedious way to pass the time, Jean couldn't hide the yearning in her expression.

"Can I just forfeit?"

"No."

Fu Qian shook his head.

"I figured as much... You can flip it..."

She didn't show much emotional reaction. It seemed Jean had finally accepted her fate.

Because the topic was so intense, she didn't notice that her fingertips easily carved a deep groove into the table as she dragged them across it.

"No need. Just guess. Heads or tails."

Fu Qian continued shaking his head.

It wasn't that he didn't respect the game, and he did indeed have a coin under his hand.

But with his left hand completely frozen stiff, just fishing the coin out had been hard enough. The act of flipping it was genuinely beyond his current capabilities.

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