He slipped through the hole he'd made, disappearing into whatever the library had been hiding, just as voices rounded the corner and found the mess he'd left behind.
Ah'Ming jumped in with very high expectations.
Not like, high expectations, exactly, but at least something genre-appropriate. A chest. A relic. A sword humming faintly with ominous promise. Even a cryptic plaque would've been nice. Maybe even gold coins that had been undiscovered for a century, finally uncovered by a dashing adventurer.
However,
…That was a problem for future him.
Present him, on the other hand, was exhausted.
"At least I'm not dead," he mumbled, rolling onto his side. "That's still my favorite status effect."
Instead, he landed in a tunnel.
Stone, rough-hewn and damp, pressing in close on either side. The air smelled old in a different way than the library. Less paper, more earth. Gross earth. More time. Water dripped somewhere ahead, slow and patient, each plink echoing like it had nowhere better to be. (Unlike Ah'Ming, who could have been curled up cozily in his apparent room at a resort).
Actually, he remembered reading somewhere that water droplets not only increased an ominous mood, but were proven to be prone to give people nightmares if heard at night. It was good that this was in the library. If the little drops were in Ah'Ming's room? Oh dear.
Still though, the supposedly adventurous adventure didn't seem to be proving exciting.
Maybe that was why everything here was so weak, if all of the so-called challenges were at this level.
"…Wow," he said dryly. "Secret area my ass." Oop— bad words again. Whoops. Amanda the therapist would have his head.
He walked.
Footsteps scuffed against gritty… grit. The tunnel sloped gently downward, just enough to keep him moving forward without noticing until too late. His hand brushed the wall, coming away cold and even grittier. Medieval dungeon chic. Very authentic. Zero rewards. Unfortunately, it would be a three star on Yelp, at best.
At the end, the tunnel widened into a small stone alcove.
Surprisingly, it was lit by torches. Those were actually the first detachable light sources he'd seen all day, at this library.
The rest had been either the ceiling lights, too far to reach unless he climbed the walls (why would he? He could see in the dark just fine), or the little antique lights that were attached to some of the shelves. He'd imagine that there were more lights, attached to real walls, but at the moment the only walls present were ones that boxed off little areas.
Even the wall he'd broken in, to find this tunnel had been boxed off, in a little alcove. He was sure that if he walked around it, only more shelves were to be seen.
The torches though, perhaps they could be removed. They were very bright, yet somehow left entire patches of the alcove covered in nothing but shadow.
In the shadows….
Something moved.
Ah'Ming stopped instantly.
Not because it was fast. Not because it was threatening.
Because it was small.
A little shadow huddled in the corner, knees drawn up, arms wrapped tight around itself. It flinched when he stepped closer, a sharp, instinctive recoil that made his chest tighten.
"…Hey," he said, softly now.
The light from behind him spilled just enough to reveal details.
A child.
Thin. Filthy. Clothes torn and stained with things he didn't want to identify. Dark hair matted to their face. One eye swollen shut, the other staring too wide, too alert.
Breathing.
Alive.
Ah'Ming froze.
Every warning bell he had went off at once, clanging so loudly it drowned out the dripping water.
Not a player.
No system tag. No interface shimmer. No aura of narrative importance. Just… a kid. Hurt. Terrified.
This place did not generate things like that without reason. (At least, that's what Ah'Ming thought even if he'd only been there for… half a day?)
His hand twitched, instinctively half-ready to become something else, something sharper.
"…Okay," he murmured to himself. "Okay. Slow."
He crouched a little, keeping his distance.
"It's alright," he said, then winced internally. Great job. Classic useless line.
The child didn't respond. Didn't cry. Didn't speak. Just watched him like a cornered animal, eyes tracking every micro-movement.
Ah'Ming swallowed.
This isn't a reward, he thought. This is a test.
And he hated that most of all.
Because if this thing was bait, then the trap wasn't teeth or shadows or darkness.
He glanced back toward the tunnel. Toward the hole he'd punched into the library wall. Toward the instance, the clock, the waves, the people who were probably congratulating themselves on surviving another cycle.
Then he looked back at the child.
"…You're not supposed to be here," he said quietly. "Neither am I, technically."
The child's fingers tightened in their sleeve.
Little fingers, almost similar to claws, hooked before climbing into sleeves. Ah'Ming almost cooed.
Ah'Ming exhaled, slow and careful.
He crept closer, with his hands held up and open to show no weapons in grasp. Slowly though, to not startle the kid. He had a neighbor once, who'd been a vet. Not a great one, but one good enough to smack Ah'Ming when he'd tried to pick up a cat right up and fast.
He'd gotten scratched by the cat too.
Lovely little evil things.
But, that was how he'd learned. When encountering a skittish creature, you had to be slow and gentle.
Wait.
Did kids count as creatures?
By the time Ah'Ming had broken out of his musings, he'd been right up next to the kid. He crouched down low, trying to get to eye level with the child.
"Hey, hey buddy?" Never let it be said that he didn't try.
The kid looked at him. His smile faltered.
Geez, it was really hard to talk nice to something so tiny.
How old were kids who were about up to his chest?
Strange.
The kid narrowed his eyes at Ah'Ming, almost as if it thought he was weird.
Which he wasn't.
It stood up, on little shaking legs. Almost like a little fawn! It would have been adorable, if the kid had not only looked both gloomy and scary. His eyes looked pretty creepy too, pupils too large, covering half of the eyeball. It was basically a large sign, screaming NPC!!!!
But still, it didn't mean that the kid was the main ghost of the sub-scenario. Should Ah'Ming bring him to the rest of the group?
What if they decided to kill him or something?
It wasn't really Ah'Ming's problem anyways though. He really wanted out of here. He wanted to go, and relax deeply in his suite, even with its admittedly creepy and unlucky number.
Ah'Ming tilted his head, offering his hand to the little kid once more. The little bugger was shy, socially anxious, just like the also-not-meant-to-be-there person that was standing in front of them.