The Hand of Confession – Chapter 123

Volume 5: Days of Applying Makeup to Corpses

The Food

Sexy Maomao, eating dirt online

Those people seemed to have run outside the funeral home to search for clues.

Shen Maomao crouched at the funeral home’s entrance, watching the massive monster that stood motionless in the mist as if dead, feeling something must be wrong with them.

The monster wasn’t dead or asleep, just too lazy to move. Those people had earlier been running for their lives, but now they’d overcome their fear to search for clues outside…

Something was fishy.

Lou Jingmo stood behind her and asked: “Found anything?”

Shen Maomao answered honestly: “I think those people led by Plaid Shirt must have discovered something in the mist, otherwise they wouldn’t risk going back.”

Moreover, this discovery must be related to the instance’s core, possibly even an important clue for escaping the instance.

From their last instance, they knew entering the mist wasn’t certain death. Plaid Shirt’s group must have realized this too, which was why they were courting death by running outside despite such a huge creature being there…

As she thought this, the hazy shadow in the mist suddenly let out an earth-shattering roar, then raised its weapon and slammed it down hard against the ground.

The ground immediately shook violently, and Shen Maomao barely managed to stay upright by grabbing the nearby railing.

A figure burst from the mist, running desperately toward the funeral home.

A massive, deep green hand reached out from the mist, grasping at the comparatively tiny figure.

“What is this…” Shen Maomao muttered.

That was not a human arm.

Its arm was covered in knotted muscles, with veins crawling across the forearm like small snakes, now pulsing slowly but powerfully; its five fingers were covered in cyan-colored fur, with five sharp, pitch-black nails that looked like they could easily disembowel fragile humans.

It grabbed at the running man, its five fingers suddenly closing together, air rushing through the gaps between its fingers, bringing a strong gust of wind.

The man dove forward, falling to the ground. He fell rather hard and couldn’t get up for quite a while, only able to look helplessly at Shen Maomao and her companion at the entrance, hoping they would lend a helping hand.

The giant hand grabbed at empty air, slowly withdrawing into the mist, seemingly having no intention of launching another attack.

Shen Maomao and Lou Jingmo exchanged glances, instantly understanding each other’s meaning.

They ran out of the funeral home together, rushing to the man’s side, supporting his shoulders from left and right, dragging him toward the funeral home’s entrance.

The monster let out a timely roar, its large feet stomping chaotically on the ground, causing another earthquake-like tremor.

The man’s face had gone pale, but his legs temporarily couldn’t muster any strength, so he could only entrust his fate to the two women, praying they wouldn’t abandon him.

How could Shen Maomao and Lou Jingmo abandon him when they were hoping to get information from him?

The man was very tall, being dragged forward by two women shorter than him by a head, his feet dragging behind, his rubber soles scraping against the paving stones, leaving a long mark.

The moment they stepped past the funeral home’s fence, the monster in the mist seemed to lose its target, returning to its statue-like state, standing silently before the funeral home’s entrance like a dutiful door god [門神 | mén shén | traditional guardian deity at entrances].

The man had escaped death, lying on the ground taking huge gasps of breath, while the two women were also slightly out of breath.

After calming down, he supported himself to sit up, one leg stretched out, the other bent, right hand resting on his knee, not looking particularly disheveled.

Shen Maomao asked him: “Why were you so bent on death? Going outside to court death?”

The man pressed his lips together, choosing to be honest with his two lifesavers: “It’s not really courting death, our understanding of the instance might be somewhat problematic.”

He perhaps had experience speaking in public, as he could articulate his thoughts in an orderly manner: “From the beginning, we knew the mist belonged to the world outside the game. I used to firmly believe this too, but today’s events broke that conception.”

He looked toward that patch of mist, as if seeing something beyond the monster: “This morning we went with San Huang [三皇 | sān huáng | literally: Three Emperors]… oh, that’s the man in the plaid shirt. We walked ahead together, looking for possible newcomers on the road.”

Shen Maomao: “……” What the hell with San Huang, this guy was so chuunibyou [中二 | zhōng èr | Japanese-derived term meaning adolescent delusions of grandeur].

The man’s eyes went vacant as he recalled the scene, continuing: “At that time there was no mist on the road. We hadn’t walked far when we met a newcomer. This newcomer was strange – I don’t know if you’ve met someone like this – he looked very ordinary but had a kind of magical charm, like a born orator, a natural leader…”

Shen Maomao felt increasingly that something was off, not because of the strange newcomer, but because of the man’s tone and manner of speaking.

“He was like the Sirens from Greek mythology, using his voice to bewitch us into doing as he said. He led us across that broad road, passing through the mysterious garden of the Muse goddess, then we saw the garden’s guardian, that giant shadow of a creature like the Minotaur.”

Shen Maomao: “…Please stop for a moment.”

The man, his train of thought interrupted, showed a dissatisfied expression: “Madam, please don’t interrupt a poet’s creative inspiration…”

Shen Maomao: “……” She really hadn’t been wrong about him.

Lou Jingmo: “You continue creating, we’ll be going.” She made to leave as she spoke.

“Wait!” The man scrambled up from the ground, “It’s my professional habit acting up!”

Lou Jingmo: “Narrate what just happened in human speech.”

The man spoke at lightning speed: “That newcomer persuaded us to keep going forward. At the time we were bewitched, thinking since we were already out, we might as well make a few more rounds outside.”

“This wandering did yield some results – we found another newcomer who had gone even further. But before we could explain the game’s rules to them, due to one newcomer’s recklessness, we angered the monster in the mist.”

“You probably know what happened after that. I think this instance’s exit might be in the mist. People have entered the mist before, and they usually get torn apart by the ghosts and monsters immediately. But this instance is different – there’s no reason to put such a powerful yet useless monster in the game.”

Lou Jingmo nodded: “What you say makes sense. Thank you for providing this information.”

The man was also quite perceptive: “You saved my life – a bit of information in exchange for my life is definitely worth it.”

For such a sensible player, Lou Jingmo was willing to return the favor: “If I remember correctly, you’re a crematorium operator?”

The man nodded: “Yes, quite unlucky.”

Lou Jingmo: “Lift the corpse’s feet, not the head, understand?”

The man froze, seeming lost in thought.

The sky had grown late, sunset clouds staining the entire sky. The three parted at the funeral home’s entrance, the man going upstairs while Lou Jingmo took Shen Maomao to the cafeteria.

There were no NPCs in the cafeteria, but there was food.

Steaming dishes were laid out behind the counter for players to choose freely. It was mealtime now, with most players sitting in the row chairs with their bowls, chatting while eating.

Guan Qiwen was among those eating, sitting beside the extremely chuunibyou San Huang in his plaid shirt, chatting and laughing with others.

As expected of a big boss, he had already managed to infiltrate the other players’ inner circle.

Seeing them, Guan Qiwen enthusiastically extended an arm, calling out: “You’ve come too? The NPC just came by and said everything can be eaten freely, just don’t leave any leftovers.”

Plaid Shirt San Huang glanced at them, pointing to two empty seats nearby, saying: “You’re late, just sit there.”

Shen Maomao: “……?”

Lou Jingmo found it quite interesting, pulling Shen Maomao along to select food.

The group nearby started chatting again, moving from instance talk to reality. San Huang went on and on about his real-life affairs, claiming he was a technical backbone [技術骨幹 | jì shù gǔ gàn | key technical personnel] at some listed company, holding five percent of company shares, saying even the boss had to give him face.

Shen Maomao whispered in Lou Jingmo’s ear: “I think this San Huang is toxic.”

Lou Jingmo: “Quite interesting.”

Shen Maomao felt a chill down her spine, feeling certain Lou Jingmo’s words weren’t meant as praise.

Lou Jingmo added: “Just take one item.”

Shen Maomao blinked, though not understanding why Lou Jingmo said this, but maintaining her trust in her, she only took a small mantou [饅頭 | mán tou | steamed bun], no dishes, and sat with Lou Jingmo in the spots San Huang had pointed to.

Xiaoqiao smiled at them from nearby, saying: “Why eat so little? Will that be enough?”

Shen Maomao smiled too: “I’m on a diet.”

Xiaoqiao pressed her lips together, saying nothing more.

San Huang continued talking to the people gathered around him: “You all know Qiming Group, right? Earlier, Qiming Group’s CEO treated me to dinner, desperately trying to poach me to work at Qiming, even offered an annual salary of three million. But I refused – after all, one mustn’t forget their roots. My current boss showed me kindness, if I abandoned him and ran off, wouldn’t that make me worse than beasts?!”

Listening to his bragging, Shen Maomao couldn’t help but glance at Guan Qiwen.

Guan Qiwen’s face clearly wrote “I didn’t, I’m not, he’s talking nonsense”.

Shen Maomao lowered her head to bite the mantou, hiding her uncontrollably rising smile.

The mantou looked snow-white and soft [軟糯 | ruǎn nuò | describing food texture as tender and glutinous], with a fragrant wheat aroma. But when she took a bite, she couldn’t taste anything at all.

It was like eating flavorless dirt, and she didn’t know whether to swallow or spit out that small piece of dough in her mouth.

Xiaoqiao watched her through narrowed eyes, kindly reminding: “The NPC said we can’t waste food yo~”

Lou Jingmo also quickly swallowed her food, saying: “Hurry up and eat.”

Shen Maomao obediently took another bite of the mantou, truly experiencing what it meant to be unable to swallow.

Xiaoqiao’s eyes flickered, as if she had noticed something interesting, smiling as she took a bite of her own food, as though savoring some divine delicacy.

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