Eldritch Horror Theatre

Not bad. He was an Old Man who knew how to read the room.

The pair of eyes Mrs. Tracy feared actually existed, and their roots in this place ran far deeper than theirs.

Devastated by the loss of his son, he had hidden within the shadows of the Sanitarium for many years, becoming a silent recorder.

He had concealed himself quite successfully. Even someone as perceptive as Mrs. Tracy would likely never have noticed him without Fu Qian's intervention.

A simple, friendly visit had actually yielded such an incredible secret. Fu Qian was naturally quite satisfied with the result.

He didn't mind in the slightest that the Old Man grew reserved after exchanging only a few words.

That was simply the art of knowing one's boundaries.

They had both been around the block; they knew when enough was enough.

The only reason someone so reclusive had been willing to show himself was because of Fu Qian's earlier threat.

As a recorder, he hadn't wanted his subject killed off, which would have left his report unfinished. That was why he had stepped forward to intervene.

But as everyone knew, an unfinished report wouldn't actually kill anyone.

Taking the initiative to introduce himself and ask for understanding was already pushing it. Demanding that he spill every secret he harbored would require far more weight on the other side of the scale.

That was exactly what the Recorder Old Man was expressing right now.

He had finished his introduction and was even offering a chance to answer a question, all in exchange for Fu Qian backing off.

But if Fu Qian insisted on causing trouble, he was fully prepared to just walk away.

Given the Old Man's stealth skills, Fu Qian didn't think he had much chance of stopping him even if he chased after the sound of his voice.

So his choice was obvious. The real question was—what should he ask?

"I understand. There is actually one thing I'm quite curious about."

Fortunately, Fu Qian had already pondered this, so he didn't keep the Old Man waiting.

"Aside from the patients who came to the Sanitarium through official channels, has anyone else trespassed here like me?"

...

"Tracing the footsteps of an old friend." Fu Qian had never forgotten that objective, which had been stated in his very first task briefing.

He simply hadn't wasted any effort on it earlier because of a complete lack of relevant clues.

But now? Who better to ask than someone who loved observing others from the shadows, had been here since the Sanitarium's founding, and literally called himself a "recorder"?

As for why he didn't just ask how to slip out of this place unnoticed?

It certainly sounded like a good idea. Having remained hidden for so many years, the Old Man had to know a thing or two about secret passages and hidden mechanisms.

Yet Fu Qian had chosen to spend his precious question elsewhere. There were two reasons for this.

First, the jianghu was a treacherous place. No matter how sincere the other party appeared, he couldn't rule out the possibility of hidden malice.

Even if the Old Man really pointed out a "clear path," following it would be highly questionable.

Second, and most importantly, he still hadn't figured out the core mechanics behind the idealism Mrs. Tracy and the others used to manipulate time.

If everyone here truly was a villain, then everyone posed a similar risk.

In that case, a clearly unique figure like the Recorder might harbor an even more terrifying Well of Time.

The kind that could throw him straight into Judgment Day over a single disagreement.

So how should he avoid that?

Just running away and avoiding all contact seemed like the cleanest solution, but he had already chosen to force the man out into the open.

This particular task felt incredibly strange. Despite the seemingly generous time limit, taking things slow was no longer a viable option.

The Recorder was far too deep an entry point into the mystery for Fu Qian to give up so easily.

So his chosen method for managing the risk was to avoid any topic that might immediately complete the task—like asking where the exit was.

After all, it was easy to guess that completing the task and the arrival of Judgment Day were strongly linked.

At the same time, this was a rare opportunity, so his question needed to have some actual depth to it.

That was why his "old friend" made for such a perfect subject.

It touched upon some deeper secrets of the place, yet it was an obscure enough topic.

"Trespassers? I'll need to have my son look into that."

After listening quietly to Fu Qian's request, the Recorder fell silent for a moment before replying.

It was just the content of that reply... Was there a necromancer involved here too?

...

Sure enough, obscure was no match for outright bizarre.

This estate had originally belonged to the Old Man, and his son had once lived here.

It was only after his son's death that the property was donated, eventually becoming the Sanitarium it was today.

Fu Qian marveled at the revelation, recalling the origins of this place that had been mentioned earlier.

Even the Old Man's peculiar hobby had clearly stemmed from that exact tragedy.

Devastated by the loss of his son, he had chosen to completely conceal himself in the shadows.

Yet, it seemed there was a minor contradiction in this tragic tale.

The Old Man's son wasn't just alive, but was now acting as his secretary, helping him retrieve recorded information?

Demon Mountain truly was a crouching tiger, hidden dragon. The atmosphere had suddenly taken a turn for the supernatural, but—

"Then I'll have to trouble him."

Thinking back to Mrs. Tracy's experiences, Fu Qian still didn't casually escalate the issue. He even made sure to reply with a polite pleasantry.

After all, the woman currently lying unconscious next to him had a backstory so bizarre it defied explanation as well.

Yet the facts had eventually proven that there was no need to jump to supernatural conclusions.

"It's no trouble... I'm getting older, and my memory is failing me."

Sure enough, the reply from behind him sounded completely normal.

"Sometimes, I can't even understand what I've written. I'm just recording out of pure instinct, so much so that I can't even verify if a record is complete."

The Old Man sighed, vividly capturing the sorrow of a fading mind.

...

So that was it.

The real reason the Old Man had shown himself when threatened earlier wasn't because Mrs. Tracy's death would leave his record incomplete.

It was because, in that scenario, he wouldn't even be able to tell if his record was complete or not?

Truly, one could never take anything for granted.

Even as he listened to the Old Man's tale, Fu Qian's mind was on other matters.

It was only a minor detail, but it made everything fall perfectly into place.

A loss that couldn't be quantified was often far more terrifying.

"I can imagine how that feels. I apologize for my rudeness earlier."

As for why missing a few notes would be considered a terrifying loss?

That was certainly a valid question. Yet, as Fu Qian apologized for his heavy-handed tactics, he faintly felt that he could understand it.

"Heh, fortunately, I have my son to help me... The very day his heart stopped beating, I knew he wasn't truly dead. He just remained here in a different form."

Sure enough, the Old Man quickly offered an explanation.

"Because of that, I began recording everything, and eventually, I found his voice in those records."

"He liked my method too. Before long, we were working together in perfect harmony."

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