What Do You Want

Ji Xiting.

That was already the umpteenth time Zhu Yan had heard that name today.

“Just what kind of existence could come up with a trick like this?” he asked the Doppelganger in a low voice.

“No idea,” the Doppelganger whispered back. “I’ve only heard one explanation: that he treats instances like computer games.”

“Every time he clears an instance, all he thinks about is how to make dying more interesting…”

He really was the biological son of the Frenzied Happy Land.

Zhu Yan silently complained to himself.

They followed the Doppelganger manager into the elevator at the end of the corridor. The manager raised one finger toward them.

“You two had better keep your voices down.”

The elevator still had the old-fashioned manual doors. The manager stretched out both arms and pulled the two gleaming golden metal doors together with a clatter.

“Mr. Ji hates it when other horror creatures mention him. He’s on the fourth floor, playing games with the horror creatures you’re here to meet…”

As he spoke, his dark, cold eyes shot a warning glance in Zhu Yan’s direction.

Oh? So there was this little complication too.

Zhu Yan nodded and pulled his hood farther over his head.

He could actually run into Ji Xiting in the Eye of the Abyss?

The last time, that fellow had offended nearly every horror creature in the Eye of the Abyss beyond all hope of reconciliation. Zhu Yan had assumed he was completely finished.

If Ji Xiting still maintained a good relationship with the Eye of the Abyss, then dealing with him would be somewhat more difficult…

Zhu Yan pondered silently until the elevator doors opened again.

The overwhelming stench of blood nearly made him gag.

“Is dinner being served?” he couldn’t help asking.

Beneath the rusty, sweet tang of blood was the stink of rotting flesh, mixed with the smell of a public restroom.

The various odors blended together, making Zhu Yan’s nose suffer unbearably.

“The distinguished guests are playing a game,” the bank manager explained.

It led them into a lounge saturated with the foul smells and indicated a sofa for the Doppelganger to wait on. Then the bank manager guided Zhu Yan through the dark, winding corridors, turning again and again before stopping in front of a massive, heavy wooden door.

The door had no decorations at all—not even a coat of paint. It looked very much like the sort of entrance one might find in an ancient European castle from a movie.

Zhu Yan could vaguely hear roars and laughter coming from inside. Nervously, he tightened his grip on the wanted notice.

The bank manager knocked on the brass ring.

The sounds inside stopped at once.

Then a somewhat familiar woman’s voice rang out. “Is that the bounty seeker? Let him in.”

The bank manager nodded at Zhu Yan.

Zhu Yan nervously straightened his cloak.

He pushed open the door and saw what was inside.

In the middle of the room stood—no.

Zhu Yan felt the skin on his scalp prickle.

It was a table made up of more than ten people. Their bodies had been bent and folded, joined together by being twisted around and pulled across one another, forming a blood-soaked long table.

Zhu Yan could clearly see that several of them were already completely dead. Their bodies remained locked in grotesquely folded positions, with broken bones jutting through the skin.

These were probably the horror creatures’ food.

When Zhu Yan entered, a half-rotted maid was cutting strips of meat from the arm of one of the people making up the table and roasting them over a small brazier on the tabletop.

The person did not move. It seemed to be dead.

Zhu Yan felt his stomach acid churning.

Every time he thought he had finally grown accustomed to the cruelty of the Frenzied Happy Land, the place would offer him some new “surprise.”

“Where’s the head?” asked a familiar voice.

It was the Madam in the ornate red dress.

She turned away from a huge screen. Zhu Yan narrowed his eyes beneath his hood and noticed that the screen seemed to be displaying surveillance footage—the scene of players making their way through a maze instance.

“I’m warning you once,” another voice said with a mocking cackle.

It was the Clown.

It unhooked a horned head from its belt and tossed it at Zhu Yan’s feet.

“This is what happens when you try to deceive us. If you’re planning to pass off a fake head that doesn’t meet the requirements, then…”

The Clown’s bright-red eyes stopped moving, its gaze clinging to Zhu Yan like a fly.

“…you still have one chance to kill yourself…”

Thud.

Another head was tossed to the Clown’s feet.

Zhu Yan knew that he ought to be more obsequious at a time like this, but for some reason, the moment he saw the Clown’s face, an unbearable irritation began rising inside him.

“This should be the right one,” Zhu Yan said in Qiu Lingfeng’s voice. “I compared it with the image on the wanted notice over and over.”

The Clown’s neck creaked as it stretched upward several inches, like a thick, pale-green snake.

Then the pliant neck bent downward, bringing its face close to the head. It examined it carefully.

The room fell completely silent. Even the maid stopped cutting meat.

Hiding beneath his hood, Zhu Yan once again surveyed the room.

All the familiar faces from before were there. A clear, oversized screen stood in front of every horror creature.

Beneath each screen was something resembling an arcade joystick, apparently used to control the instance maze.

Ji Xiting stood beside the goateed creature, almost completely unnoticed.

He was dressed in a very proper waiter’s uniform and carried a tray of drinks.

Zhu Yan thought he understood.

This fellow had apparently found another way to curry favor with these high-ranking horror creatures.

He had turned the instance he controlled into a game that could be manipulated from backstage, then served these creatures tea and drinks himself.

As for the dining table made entirely from twisted human bodies…

While the Clown conducted its thorough inspection of the head, Zhu Yan took another careful look at the unfortunate players’ corpses.

Several of them were even wearing military uniforms. They had probably been dragged out of one of Ji Xiting’s instances—perhaps lost ones, like the person in the lobby.

“It is him.” The Clown found nothing to criticize. “The appearance checks out. Ji Xiting!”

It suddenly shouted. The tray in Ji Xiting’s hands wobbled, nearly tipping over.

“Here.”

“Take it and put it in the toad. Let’s see if his ID matches.”

Ji Xiting set down the tray and walked over, a distinctly human flash of reluctance crossing his face.

He glared at Zhu Yan, bent down, picked up Qiu Lingfeng’s head, and tossed it into the mouth of the giant toad crouching in the corner of the room.

Under his hood, Zhu Yan glared back.

The room remained silent. The toad slurped at the human head with a wet “glug, glug.” A few seconds later, it spat the head back onto the floor with a wet pop.

“User deleted!” it chirped. “User deleted!”

Madam abruptly rose to her feet, her enormous skirt knocking over a wooden stool.

With a snap, she opened her folding fan. Her high heels stepped soundlessly across the carpet as she walked toward the dining table.

“Well, well.” Madam extended one rotting hand and reached for Zhu Yan’s hood.

“Let me see which brave warrior this is—and tell me, what is it that you want?”