"Welcome, dears. You've all been rewarded as promising newbies, with the bonded experts brought along as a gift."
A ripple went through the group.
Selected. That word again.
"For what?" someone demanded.
"For evaluation," Auntie Lok said pleasantly, setting the tray down on a nearby table. "For continuation. For audience retention."
Ah'Ming felt his stomach sink.
"…There's an audience here too?" he asked.
Her gaze flicked to him, eyes twinkling.
"Oh yes," she said. "They love this instance. Good players. Good drama. Very shareable. Does help that it's a large scale instance."
She gestured at the tarts.
"Take one," she added. "First item's free. After that, you'll be paying in points."
A few people hesitated.
Most did not.
...
As hands reached for pastries, Ah'Ming stared at the emporium, at the plaza, at the motley collection of people who had clearly been spat out by the same indifferent system.
Some looked terrified.
Some looked eager.
Some looked like they'd already learned how to game the comments.
He thought of the blue panels. The B. The wet cat remark.
Somewhere, something was watching.
Evaluating.
Waiting to see what he would do next.
Ah'Ming took an egg tart. Finally though, an egg tart.
"…Fine," he muttered again, brushing crumbs from his fingers. "Let's see what kind of show this place wants."
Auntie Lok kept talking.
Something about safety clauses. Something about narrative lanes and consent toggles and how "please do not antagonize persistent entities unless you have clearance." The crowd listened with varying degrees of attention. A few people took notes. Someone asked if death was permanent. Auntie Lok answered that with a smile that suggested the question had layers.
None of it stuck.
Because Ah'Ming's attention had snagged on a floating line of text that only appeared when he stopped blinking.
|SUBSTORY CLEARED: PAPER CAFÉ|INFO SESSION UNLOCKED
"…Oh," he murmured.
That explained the tone.
This wasn't a sermon. It was onboarding. The kind you got exactly once, padded with cheer and egg tarts so you wouldn't panic too loudly. He caught fragments as his focus drifted back and forth.
First-time only.
No repeats.
Main instance now accessible.
Main instance.
His thoughts snapped back into alignment.
Resort.
Huipao had said it offhand, like it was obvious. Resort hotel. Safe zone. Or at least, safer than wherever the café had been pretending to exist.
Ah'Ming looked past Auntie Lok, past the plaza, and finally noticed the skyline.
It rose behind the emporium like a postcard that had been laminated too hard.
A sprawling resort complex stretched across the horizon. White towers terraced with greenery. Infinity pools catching sunlight like sheets of glass. Balconies draped in gauzy curtains that moved despite the lack of wind. The whole place radiated leisure with the intensity of a threat.
"…You've got to be kidding me," he whispered.
If this was the main instance, then it wasn't metaphorical.
It was literally a resort.
The info session wound down with polite applause and a reminder to "enjoy your stay responsibly." People began to disperse, some clustering into nervous groups, others wandering off with the boldness of those who assumed the system rewarded initiative.
Ah'Ming checked himself.
No injuries. Inventory somewhere unseen. Points ticking quietly in the background like a clock he could not look away from.
"If this is a resort," he said under his breath, "then I should have a room. Right?"
The logic felt dangerously reasonable.
He followed the signage.
The signs were tasteful. Cream-colored plaques with gold lettering and little arrows that adjusted themselves when he walked past, like they were politely checking his intentions.
|RECEPTION →|GUEST SERVICES|ELEVATORS
Each step closer made the place feel more real and less safe. The sounds changed. Water features murmuring. Distant laughter that looped too neatly. Somewhere, a bellhop's cart rolled by on its own, stacked with luggage that occasionally twitched.
Down a few flights of stairs, he could feel his mood dropping lower too.
The reception desk sat beneath a vaulted ceiling painted to resemble a sky that never quite reached dusk.
Behind the counter stood the receptionist.
She smiled.
Her teeth were perfect. Too perfect. All exactly the same size, aligned with architectural precision. Her eyes were dark, reflective, and when she tilted her head, they caught the light like polished stone.
Wow, this place was creepy.
"Welcome," she said warmly. "Checking in? How strange, the rest of your cohort already had rooms!"
"…I think so," Ah'Ming replied.
She extended a hand.
He hesitated, then placed his own on the counter.
The moment his fingers touched the surface, something pulsed. Recognition. A brief sensation like a barcode being scanned along his spine.
The receptionist nodded. "Yes. You're registered."
"That was fast."
"You were pre-assigned," she said. "First-time participants always are."
She reached beneath the desk and produced a card.
It slid across the counter and stopped exactly in front of him.
Blood red. Not metaphorically. The color was deep and wet-looking, like it had opinions. His room number was embossed rather than printed.
404
The numbers seemed to sink slightly into the card when he stared at them.
"…There's no room 404 in normal hotels," he said.
Her smile widened by a fraction. "We are rarely normal."
"Right. Of course."
He picked up the card. It was warm. Uncomfortably so.
At least it wasn't pulsating.
"Enjoy your stay," the receptionist added. "Please do not attempt to access floors you have not unlocked. And if your room answers you back, kindly inform guest services."
Ah'Ming paused. "Answers me back how."
She blinked. Slowly. "However it chooses."