After Austin departed, Eric did not linger long. Having escaped severe injury this time, she resolved against purchasing a healing pack. With five points now nestled in her account—a veritable fortune in her eyes—she intended to invest them in lodging at the inn.
Before retiring, she resolved to thoroughly explore the transit station. Though termed a "transit station," it comprised but a single crowded street, lined with over twenty shops, including even a cosmetics store. She spied a gym, bars, karaoke lounges, a supermarket, and even a red-light district—quite literally named so.
Eric ventured into the supermarket for a stroll. Much akin to those in reality, it offered a vast array of goods at pleasingly reasonable prices. Lacking enthusiasm, she soon departed for the inn, intending to recuperate for a day before resuming her missions.
In the inn's lobby, she encountered Natalie, who huddled with several other female players in a notably grim atmosphere. Upon seeing Eric, Natalie's eyes brightened, and she hurried over. "Eric! You're back! You didn't encounter any danger, did you?"
"No, and you? How was last night?"
Natalie's expression fell. "The darkness outside was terrifying beyond measure. I had a persistent sense of lurking danger, as if the very air turned frigid! I was relieved to have purchased the hallway overnight package—the hall was crowded and felt somewhat secure. Yet, a few scoundrels preyed upon us newcomer female players, brandishing knives to coerce us into buying healing packs for them. Refusal meant death threats!"
Austin had warned that no laws or restraints applied here; anything could transpire.
The inn not only sheltered them from nocturnal perils but also shielded them from threats of a more human kind—inn door locks were impervious from outside.
Eric voiced concern, "You're alright in the end? But your points couldn't even afford a healing pack."
"Exactly! They demanded we sleep with them!" Natalie fumed. "How shameless can people be! Fortunately, under Nicole's leadership, we united as female players and thwarted those bastards! Eric, Nicole is a veteran player, kind and wise. She's been imparting us survival tips. The environment for female players is atrocious; unity is our only hope. Come, join our support group!"
"I'm too exhausted—I think I'll rest first. Thank you," Eric declined gently. After threading the turbulent river and climbing ashore, fatigue had claimed her. She had summoned all her strength to absorb Daniel's wisdom, not daring to lose focus. When dawn broke, drowsiness briefly overtook her but quickly faded, allowing her to wander a bit. Now, pondering the imminence of a soft bed at the inn, her sleepiness overwhelmed her entirely.
Natalie then noticed Eric's hand. "Oh! Your injury is severe! Why no healing pack?"
"Too stingy to buy. It's fine; the wound isn't fatal. I'll head upstairs now. See you later."
"Rest well. See you." Reluctantly, Natalie waved goodbye.
At the front desk's tablet, Eric booked a single room—room 2033—with no key required, simply access upstairs. The elevator's buttons appeared basic; she pressed "2," which shifted to reveal a detailed key panel: 2001–2050, 2051–2100… 2951–2999.
The seemingly modest four-story inn concealed remarkable complexity.
Eric selected the 2001–2050 button. The elevator ascended swiftly, doors sliding open before a long corridor. Passing room 2001, she located 2033 in sequence. The door yielded easily to a twist of the handle; inside, she discovered it lacked a lock yet closed firmly—impossible to open without intent.
A profound sense of security enveloped her.
The single room resembled its worldly counterpart: a bed, a sofa, a bathroom, and a sliding window. Eric first sought the bathroom for a hot shower, the warmth reviving her thoroughly. Wrapped in a towel, she inhaled deeply and tentatively produced a set of pajamas procured from the supermarket.
The soft fabric heightened her alertness. Would this contraband be detected by the game's surveillance? If so, would it be confiscated and lead to expulsion—or tolerated?
Ten minutes passed uneventfully.
Elated, she donned the pajamas and sprawled upon the bed, muscles aching deeply. After a pause, she arose to tend to her hand's injury. While healing packs offered swift relief from pain and wounds, learning of the dungeon's severity, she resolved to avoid such expenses unless grievous injury, like the previous fall from above costing half a life, occurred. Otherwise, she'd manage minor wounds with supermarket staples.
Healing packs were outrageously expensive.
[Ordinary Dungeon Healing Pack: Price 2 points; heals all physical and mental injuries sustained in ordinary dungeons (excluding certain dungeon-specific effects); partial efficacy in paranormal dungeons. Purchase available in ordinary dungeons, paranormal dungeons, and transit stations.]
[Paranormal Dungeon Healing Pack: Price 22 points; heals all physical, mental, and spiritual injuries sustained in ordinary and paranormal dungeons (excluding certain specific effects). Purchase available in paranormal dungeons and transit stations.]
Eric reflected: last year the supermarket had secured authorization to sell category B over-the-counter medicines, adding a shelf stocked with common remedies such as chrysanthemum granules, cold medicine, iodine disinfectant, adhesive bandages, herbal oils, and various herbal infusions. Neighbors often purchased these convenience medications without venturing to a pharmacy.
Yet for serious injury or rapid recovery needed to evade danger, supermarket basics proved inadequate.
One must still buy healing packs when the situation demanded.
"Heartless merchants. One healing pack costs half my points," Eric sighed. Though her "golden finger" reduced some living costs, what of other players? Four thousand four hundred forty-four points sounded attainable, yet she now understood its true challenge.
Resolutely, she resolved to redouble her training, augmenting stamina and resilience to survive without grave injury. Minor wounds could be managed with iodine and similar simple treatments.
Retrieving two bottles of mineral water, she gritted her teeth and scrubbed dirt from beneath her nails, pain causing veins to throb across her forehead. After cleaning, she applied iodine and bandaged the wound. Sweating profusely, she feared catching a chill and refrained from another shower, opting instead to wipe away sweat with her towel and change into fresh pajamas.
Hungry, Eric selected half a roasted chicken from the deli counter and a bottle of milk tea, consuming both completely. Full and sated, she wrapped herself in the blanket, resolving to think of nothing and surrender to a deep, restorative slumber.
Awakening well past three in the afternoon, Eric sensed the onset of nasal congestion and hastily brewed a packet of cold remedy.
Naturally, her single room lacked electric outlets or a kettle, possessing only a switch to control the lighting. Though the supermarket blazed with illumination, she possessed no means to harness its power—merely able to retrieve and replace items, but unable to operate its electric kettle.
To boil water, Eric resorted to acquiring candles from the supermarket, along with a stainless steel cup which she cleansed thoroughly and filled with bottled water to heat.
While heating the water, she inspected the supermarket, confirming its shelves and stockroom were fully replenished—an astonishing state considering the vastness and variety of goods, and the substantial daily turnover. The merchandise was perpetually being restocked or in transit, meaning that the supermarket never before had all items in adequate supply simultaneously.
She wondered if the stock would replenish itself once depleted.
Resolving to temper her greed, she acknowledged that such a grand emporium within this survival game was amply sufficient to sustain a single individual—for a decade, no less! Yet, ten years without resurrection rendered one no better than a waste. Perhaps it would be better to forgo revival and hang oneself.
Furthermore, she pondered whether the supermarket's provisions bore an expiration. If expired... recalling Austin's words, would she be compelled to venture into paranormal dungeons? Yet she had feared ghosts since childhood, never daring even to watch horror films or join classmates in haunted houses.
"Enough worrying—ordinary dungeons first," Eric, ever the optimist, swiftly cast her future troubles aside.
After consuming the cold medicine, she devoured two vacuum-sealed marinated eggs and a self-heating meal flavored with shiitake mushroom and chicken—a relatively wholesome supper.
By half past five, her heart quickened; opening the window, she surveyed the entire street.
Refraining from overthinking, she returned inside to commence arm exercises with improvised dumbbells—two large bottles of cola. Her grip remained weak, so she wrapped a towel around her wrists, securing the bottles snugly.
At 5:55 p.m., her alarm bell chimed.
Halting her workout, Eric returned to the window.
Twilight deepened noticeably; pedestrians hastened home, while naive newcomers lingered bewildered, unsure where to turn. Observing them, Eric recalled her own plight the day prior and shouted, "Do not loiter on the streets! After six o'clock, nightfall brings mortal danger! Those with points, lodge at the inn; those without, proceed to the mission hall to undertake ordinary missions!"
The novices looked up in surprise; waving her hand, she repeated the warning. Recognition dawned—some rushed toward the inn, others hurried to the mission hall.
Within the inn's other rooms, a figure sipped coffee at a window, chuckling softly, "So kind-hearted."
Elsewhere, someone cowered in fear, eyes fixed on the wintry darkness, mind consumed by the zero balance displayed on their personal account.
In the mission hall, a haughty youth bellowed, "My father is the richest man in XX City! Who pays my lodging? Once I resurrect, I'll gift that person ten million!"
At six o'clock sharp, darkness fully descended. Eric closed her window.
Peering through the glass, she watched as night swallowed all; she sensed unseen entities lurking—observing, crawling, scaling surfaces... Several agonized screams echoed along the street. Stores, too, succumbed to the night's grasp; a hand pounded upon the glass door of the cosmetics shop before vanishing inexplicably.
Eric harbored no intention of venturing forth to survey the hall's condition. Indeed, upon regaining access to the supermarket "cheat," she resolved to maintain a low profile. Best that no one remembered her; she desired no attention, lest the supermarket's secret be uncovered.
Continuing her regimen until well past ten, Eric finally reclined to sleep.