Bianheng, quick as never, bowed at the paper person, assured that the group would get right to it, and then dragged everybody to the kitchens. His strides were long and confident, fake as that confidence maybe, and Huipao had to skip slightly to keep up. The others were stuck as body duty, with zhaoying supporting Shen Yulan, and Ah'Ming carrying two people under each arm.
They were startlingly light, except the dude with the broken leg had it swaying unnaturally. Good thing he was already passed out, since the pain would have ben excruciating. Bones were so weird.
The last dude limped along.
Once they pushed past the kitchen doors, Ah'Ming dropped the two onto the floor. They groaned, but didn't wake up. He was considering kicking them to see if that helped.
They ended up sitting on the kitchen floor.
Not because anyone suggested it, but because there was nowhere clean left to sit, and the counters were already occupied by injured people, bloody bandages, and one ominously empty tart mold that everyone was pointedly ignoring.
They tried to negotiate on who to sacrifice.
Or maybe that wasn't what the conversation was about. Ah'Ming hadn't really been listening, just watching Zhaoying work with a morbid fascination.
The conversation continued unimpeded, after several frantic, whispered minutes of negotiation, during which Shen Yulan clutched her bell like a lifeline, Zhaoying tried not to punch somebody at the sheer amount of blood loss she was stabilizing, and Ah'Ming paced in tight circles while muttering increasingly unhinged pastry-related theories, no conclusion was gained.
It was really gross seeing Zhaoying work, because apparently her ability was similar to the thought of no pain, no gain. If she stabbed a person while using her ability, they'd heal both the stab wound, and another wound equivalent to that of the stab wound. Wacky, but also really, really bloody.
However, it didn't work with any illnesses, chronic pains or already healed injuries. She probably wouldn't be able to get a job in medicine with a skill like that though. Ah'Ming would imagine not many customers would enjoy being stabbed.
A shame, really, since doing the stabbing was very stress relieving.
"Say, if we," Huipao gestured at the four original gang, "are the staff, then what are you guys?"
Shen yulan blinked. "Thats a good point, honestly. Maybe the rumors of your lack of intellect were overstated after all?"
Puffing up like an enraged chicken, Huipao started to needle zhaoying about stopping Yulan's healing, especially if she had enough energy to diss her teammates.
Her friend with the broken leg coughed to make himself heard.
"So. We didn't exactly come here by the rules. Like we said earlier, our route had double the ghosts, and we couldn't handle it. We used an item to escape, bypassing the proper route and coming here early"
Ah'Ming lifted an eyebrow.
"So," Ah'Ming said "tell us about your route."
Gu Wenhao opened his mouth.
Closed it again.
Lin Qiao frowned. Tried anyway. "We came through the—"
Her voice cut off mid-syllable.
Not like she'd stopped talking. Like the sound had been removed.
She blinked, startled, then pressed a hand to her throat. "Ah."
Shen Yulan sighed, exhausted. "System lock," she said. "You can't disclose details about unrelated instances or uncompleted routes. Especially not ones you bypassed."
Bianheng and zhaoying nodded. Gu wenhao made to nod, but had to break off coughing in the middle.
"That's stupid," Huipao said immediately.
"It's consistent," Bianheng corrected. "Otherwise people would meta-game the entire resort."
Gu Wenhao gave a weak shrug. "We can tell you general things. Vibes. Trauma. No maps, no mechanics."
Ah'Ming considered this. "Okay. On a scale of one to ten, how bad was it?"
Lin Qiao stared into the middle distance. "Do you know what it's like when a mural watches you blink?"
"…Eight," Wenhao amended. "Maybe nine."
Huipao squeaked.
Before anyone could ask more, the fridge thumped.
Everyone froze.
The industrial refrigerator at the back of the kitchen shuddered again, door rattling as if something inside had shifted its weight.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Bianheng moved first, dagger already in hand, nudging the fridge door open with the tip of his boot.
Something wet slid forward.
It was a heart.
A real one. Bloody, dark, heavy-looking, sitting neatly on a porcelain plate like it had always belonged there. It pulsed once, sluggishly, then stilled.
Ah'Ming sighed. "I hate this place."
The bell in Shen Yulan's hand vibrated faintly, notifying her that resentment was about to accumulate nearby again.
Outside the kitchen, the paper people began to stir.
Menus rustled. Chairs scraped. The low murmur of discontent rose like a tide.
"They're agitating," Zhaoying said, already pushing herself upright. "Whatever that is…"
"It's an offering," Shen Yulan said quietly. "An emergency fail-safe. The instance provides one if
the script is close to collapse."
"Convenient," Bianheng muttered.
"Disgusting," Huipao added.
They didn't have time to argue.
Bianheng took the plate, jaw tight, and marched it out to the table of the person who ordered it. It wasn't an egg tart, but Ah'Ming supposed that didn't matter. The main paper person rose immediately, movements smoothing as it accepted the heart with both hands.
Wow, these paper people had really low standards of living. Was the system really that nice to not just kill them? Something seemed fishy.
The café, though, exhaled.
Crimson stains faded. Smiles softened. The hostility drained away like ink washed from paper.
For exactly three seconds.
Then, every single paper person raised their menu at once.
Tap. Tap. Tap.