1
I’m Casey Turner, the only janitor in this horror game.
The place where I’m standing is an SSS-rank horror dungeon—World Theme Park.
It’s a place where survival comes only at the cost of your lifespan.
Food, clothing, housing, and transportation—all of it costs Time Coins.
But the only way to get Time Coins is to burn through your life.
I step into the Forge.
The two stone tablets flanking the entrance bear the inscription: “An inch of time is worth an inch of gold. No amount of gold can buy back time.”
An old man who looks like a goblin stands guard at the door. His cheekbones jut out over hollow cheeks, and his deathly pale face is tinged with an unnatural flush.
The old man asks, “Are you here to mint coins?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m here to find someone.”
“I see…” The old man walks away, disappointed, and asks the next customer.
Inside the Forge, hammers ring out against iron.
The bare-chested figures swinging the hammers aren’t blacksmiths, nor are they thunder gods.
They’re all players.
Every Time Coin is forged from a player’s blood, sweat, and tears.
“Just… just one more coin! Then I can trade it for the cancer medicine.”
A player, nearly out of his mind, summons every last bit of strength to strike one final blow. The hammer clangs, and a gleaming gold Time Coin is forged.
But the player’s face is already withered, a vacant smile on his lips. He collapses and dies on the spot.
I pass the stretcher crew carrying his body and head straight for the innermost room.
Inside is a strange man wearing upside-down triangular sunglasses.
I ask, “I heard you have a Malice Ticket that leads to the Final Gathering?”
He lowers his glasses, revealing eyes that flicker like ghost fire.
“Where did you hear that, ma’am?”
I step closer. “You don’t need to know. I have my own sources. I want that Malice Ticket. Name your price.”
He snorts. “The Final Gathering is the last day of World Theme Park. If you make it through, the rewards are beyond measure.” “How could the value of a Malice Ticket possibly compare to Time Coins?”
I looked at him. “You’ve had that ticket for over a year, haven’t you? If you planned to clear the dungeon, why turn yourself into an immortal NPC?”
World Theme Park is a massive RPG.
Players take on all sorts of roles. Everything from finding a lost cat to saving the world is a dungeon quest.
But it’s ranked SSS because of its Time Coin system.
For example, helping Riley Parker kick his internet addiction still costs thirty Time Coins to leave the dungeon after completing the quest.
Killing the monster that kidnapped a princess only costs one coin once the quest is complete.
But this is a place where people can die. Time Coins can’t be stolen, and they’re the only hard currency here.
Absorbing Time Coins can extend your life.
And yet, this currency can’t buy a Malice Ticket.
How strange.
The demon pushed up his sunglasses, hiding his cold gaze.
“I didn’t expect you to know exactly how long I’ve had the ticket. I really ought to… get rid of you.”
2
When I didn’t move, he chuckled. “I’m not planning to sell the Malice Ticket, but since you came all this way, I won’t send you away empty-handed. Have you heard of piggy banks?”
I shook my head. I’d only been in the dungeon for about ten days, and there was still a lot I didn’t know.
He said, “There’s a special building in Zone 32 called the Piggy Bank. They often turn young travelers into piggy banks and then sell them.”
I asked, “You want a piggy bank?”
He wagged a bony index finger. “No. I want the formula for making them.”
I asked, “If I get you the formula, will you trade it for the Malice Ticket?”
He nodded. “Of course.”
So he didn’t want the fish—he wanted the fishing rod.
If I hadn’t needed to meet the dungeon BOSS at the Final Gathering, I never would’ve agreed to this.
I said, “All right. I’ll give it a try.”
He smiled. “The monsters at the Piggy Bank are tough to deal with. ” “If your stats aren’t high enough, don’t go charging to your death.”
I remembered the last time I checked my stats. Hadn’t a few of them been zero?
“You don’t need to worry. Just remember what I told you.”
After leaving the Forge, the two cats, Morgan Turner and Alex Parker, came over.
Morgan leaped onto my shoulder and whispered, “Did you get the Malice Ticket?”
I lowered my voice. “Not yet. He doesn’t want Time Coins. He gave me a task instead: go to Zone 32 and steal the piggy bank formula from the Piggy Bank.”
Morgan asked, “What are you going to do?”
I headed for the teleportation array. “Let’s go first and see how hard it is.”
Morgan nodded. “Do you have enough Time Coins on you? Want me to go earn some more?”
Minting coins was a grueling process for players, but for two cats who were S-rank dungeon BOSSes, it was child’s play.
We spent the first two days learning the rules. By the third, we were rich.
If carrying too many Time Coins didn’t burden the soul—and if the two cats didn’t refuse to carry any—I would’ve made Morgan mint ten thousand of them.
Now, judging by my backpack, I figured I had another sixty or seventy coins.
“No rush. We’ll deal with it when we run out.”
At the teleportation array, we paid three coins and teleported to Zone 32.
Travel between zones here required using a teleportation array.
Of the 89 zones that had opened, there were three major regions: Tinh Tung, Van Phat Quat, and Cyber Kowloon.
Zone 32 was more or less a suburb, with a low population of players.
The Piggy Bank the demon had mentioned looked, at first glance, like the Dragon Gate Inn from a martial arts movie.
Mysterious, with a hint of danger.
“Welcome to the Piggy Bank. This is a neutral zone. Please take care to safeguard your belongings.”
“The bank offers Time Coin deposits, piggy bank sales, and lodging.”
“What service would you like?”
Lodging was a common feature in older games. In this dungeon, it took the form of sleeping to temporarily return to reality.
I had to admit, every dungeon was very different. The SSS-level dungeons were especially autonomous.
They were like feudal lords carving out their own territories; you never knew what they might do.
I could hardly imagine what it would be like once the last ten dungeons had completely escaped the boss’s control.
According to the guy at the Forge, the Piggy Bank was a shady shop, no different from those old-time meat bun shops that used human flesh for filling.
If I wanted to get my hands on their recipe, I had to stay here.
I needed to get close to danger.
I fed a Time Coin into the pig’s mouth on the lock. “I’d like to stay here.”
The pig-shaped lock lit up, its bloodshot eyes gleaming.
“Authentication confirmed.”
“Sleep well, sir.”
3
In the World Theme Park, the wild zones were often mysterious and unpredictable.
Choosing to stay overnight usually meant being safe.
But at the Piggy Bank, even that safety was taken away.
The employees here looked like wild boars standing upright. Their lifelike appearance would make most people uncomfortable.
But I was used to dealing with all kinds of NPCs. To me, they weren’t even PG-13.
As I entered the guest area, the smell of blood wafted past my nose. Someone had definitely died here before. I just couldn’t tell whether it had been a player, an NPC, or a player who’d turned into an NPC.
Alex Parker leaped onto my shoulder and settled into a heavy, solid lump. No matter how I moved, it didn’t budge.
Its round eyes brimmed with curiosity about the world.
Morgan Turner blended into the black carpet so well that, if not for his glowing eyes, I doubt I would’ve found him.
Standing in front of the room, I found its layout even stranger.
It was round like a Mongolian yurt, symmetrical within the building, with interwoven steel bars inside that looked like an old-fashioned pig cage.
The carpet was soft, as though covered in dry grass. Stepping on it made me wonder if some many-legged bug might crawl out.
Alex Parker hopped down from my shoulder and kept stepping on the same spot.
“Meow.”
Could there be something inside…? Like in Ito Junji’s story “The Human Chair”?