Eldritch Horror Theatre

"No problem."

Although she wondered why Fu Qian had returned so soon, it was clear that Maggie was exactly as Hake had described: an observer in the breakfast shop.

The two unfamiliar, youthful faces had obviously caught her attention right away.

"Order whatever you like."

Once she understood what Fu Qian meant, Maggie smiled in agreement and gestured for Emily and her companion to go ahead.

It wasn't surprising. Hake would likely be interested, and given Fu Qian's status as a new police officer, she hardly had to worry about him dining and dashing.

"The pancakes here aren't bad. If they still have any, you should try them."

Playing the part of a regular, Fu Qian even offered a recommendation.

"You aren't going to stay and watch us?"

"No. If I eat here, someone will spit in my food."

To her surprise, Fu Qian shook his head and shot a glance to the side.

"Don't slander me. Why would I bring personal grievances into my work?"

Jean, who had been busy this whole time without sparing them a glance, finally turned around.

She scoffed in sharp protest, though she didn't actually deny holding a grudge.

"I wasn't very polite this morning. Please don't take it to heart."

Though he had his reservations about her defense, Fu Qian didn't dwell on the spitting issue. Instead, he offered a breezy apology.

"Besides, when it comes to voting for our favorite service staff, Hake and I share the same tastes."

He even followed it up with a compliment for Jean.

...

"You've seen Rachel?"

Completely caught off guard by his change in attitude after his short trip outside, Jean froze for a moment before something clicked.

"I have. Her creations, too."

Every word was true. Fu Qian recalled Rachel's state when he left her.

He had to admit, that slightly hollow, unhinged look of hers might actually hold a unique charm for anyone with certain niche tastes.

Comparatively speaking, however, Jean's aura of brokenness left a much deeper impression, even if she looked perfectly stable at the moment.

Aside from Brother Peeker and Tina, Jean was relatively confirmed to be one of the few who still had an Anchor Point in the Inner World.

And it seemed that after he had completed his objective for the First Step, no particular disturbances had erupted on her end.

At least, nothing had spilled over.

Of course, checking on her was just a side thought. He had come here for a different reason.

"Have you seen a silver door anywhere?"

Fu Qian pressed on before Jean could say a word.

"Silver? Is there nothing else? How am I supposed to help you with just that?"

Although she hadn't said anything before, realizing that Fu Qian's earlier compliment had come from a genuine comparison clearly left Jean feeling a bit gratified beneath her surprise.

That was evident by the way she furrowed her brow and genuinely tried to think of an answer to his incredibly abrupt question.

Unfortunately, just as she had said, having nothing but a color to go on—even a relatively uncommon one—made narrowing it down difficult.

"Yes. So far, that's the only identifying marker I have."

Recalling his task details, Fu Qian gestured for her to try her best despite the scarce clues.

He was, after all, primarily here to locate his next objective.

Even though the doors back at the Art Prison practically resembled a painter's palette, a quick mental review confirmed that there hadn't been a single silver one.

With the town being as large as it was, he couldn't very well search every single building one by one.

As a rookie on the police force, he had to be adept at utilizing the locals as an information network.

Even though, right now, his local informants seemed to be coming up short...

"There's one in a bar, the one two streets back. But they probably aren't open at this hour."

Just as Jean was drawing a blank, another voice unexpectedly chimed in.

Fu Qian turned around to find Maggie giving him a subtle nod from behind the counter.

"I shouldn't need to give you the exact directions."

A second later, her eyes briefly flicked toward his uniform.

It seemed there weren't many options for bars around here, and it looked like the original owner of his body had been quite the regular.

That lifestyle habit was clearly doing him a huge favor now. Otherwise, he would have had to trudge all the way back to the Art Prison to keep searching.

"Thanks. I'll be on my way, then."

Pleased with how things were progressing, Fu Qian casually tossed out a word of thanks.

"Aren't you afraid we'll run away?"

Standing beside him, Emily stared in utter disbelief.

"They won't stop you."

Fu Qian was acting entirely too easygoing. He even shot a look at Maggie and Jean, gesturing for them not to stress over it.

"So do as you please. Leave together, leave separately, or stay here to look at the graffiti outside and chat with the living."

Leaving them with those options, Fu Qian ignored them completely, turning on his heel and walking out the door.

...

Sure enough, it wasn't open.

Despite lacking any memories of this body's nightlife, finding the bar was a breeze thanks to Maggie's simple directions.

Coming to a halt before a perfectly normal-colored front door, Fu Qian silently offered Maggie another round of thanks. Activating Master-Level Lockpicking, he simply pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The place was dead quiet and entirely empty, but the faint scent of stale alcohol lingering in the air proved it was still a functioning business.

One sweep of his gaze was all it took to confirm that this was, undeniably, a corner of the Decaying Town.

Even a classic place of relaxation like this wasn't spared from the overwhelming, ashen aura of decay washing over everything.

He could almost picture the scene: a gaggle of lifeless-eyed, middle-aged and elderly patrons hunched over the fading counter, strictly adhering to doctor's orders as they carefully monitored their alcohol intake.

It was easy to see why Tia had still chosen to stick with him, even after he had treated her so terribly.

This should be the place.

His internal commentary didn't slow his pace. He did a quick lap around the bar before finally coming to a halt in an inconspicuous corner.

Not only was the location terrible, but management's aesthetic tastes were clearly questionable: they had genuinely plastered a layer of silver over this door.

The material used was cheap, too, and the edges were already curling up in several places.

The faint patterns on the door were barely noticeable, yet they looked terribly familiar.

He had seen this door before.

Clicking his tongue in realization, Fu Qian's mind flashed back to his very first encounter with Brother Persuader.

That's right. Back in that long Corridor, there had been more than one door.

Persuader had stood somewhere among them, telling him that the Nightmare waiting behind his chosen door had been the mildest one of the bunch.

Nightmare Corridor... so it really was you.

He'd figured that a place capable of such intense power suppression had to have quite the background.

And considering his path back and forth had supposedly run right through The Corridor, it actually made perfect sense for the Warehouse to just source things locally and throw a massive job at him straight from it—even if it was a bit rude.

After all, he had still been in the middle of drinking his tea.

"Please come in."

Fortunately, someone here was polite enough. The sound of an invitation drifted out directly from Inside the Door.

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