Nearly three weeks have passed since he left Area 001—three weeks that had taught him a rhythm.
Adaptability was a funny thing. Despite so much having happened back at the Games, Eathan had found himself slipping back into routines: completing daily [SIDE QUESTS], stocking shelves, tallying items, and occasionally warding off wandering spirits—the rewards weren’t substantial, but aura farming was steady, and at this point, every Qi token counted.
COZMART shifts usually involved sweeping, organising shelves, smiling at mortal customers, nodding at the ones that weren’t…
Occasionally, though, he’d also been taking up side hustles beyond the corner shop. Area 003 had seen an unusual surge in minor rifts around New York—aftershocks from the dispersal of the White Tiger’s fractured core, Li Wei had explained tiredly. Because of that, Eathan and Chewie had spent several afternoons assisting the Area 003 substation crews, be they sealing spectral leaks near bustling subway mezzanines in Brooklyn or patching karmic holes near that old Queens cemetery gate.
As for nighttime, those were typically reserved for item restocking and training on the roof behind the laundromat. From banner feints to seal timing to breath control, their teamwork had grown considerably more harmonic under Chewie’s blunt drills. Footwork smoothened; shorthand clicks replaced lectures. When she barked “left,” he was moving before he heard it.
Now if only equilibrium scaled with chores.
His [SYSTEM] chimed with the same cheerful tune as he placed the final box of tea onto the shelf:
[SYSTEM] NOTIFICATION:
[Side Quest Completed!]
Complete your daily shift at COZMART!
You Have Been Rewarded: +30 Karma, +10 Qi Tokens
Eathan stared at the notification, then sighed inwardly.
The door creaked, and he looked up just as a familiar ogre-spirit waddled in.
“Good morning, Mister Erzhong Ren,” he greeted.
“Ah, yes! Dainty weather, isn’t it?” Erzhong Ren squeaked, rubbing the corpse’s ear instead of his own.
On the first evening after Erzhong Ren’s unexpected slime-covered appearance, Eathan had been so taken back he'd nearly sealed the little ogre right back into the afterlife. Now, days later, initial panic had melted into resigned acceptance.
He watched as that same ogre-in-human-shell shuffled through COZMART's aisles, browsing snacks with shy politeness.
After picking out the same three snacks from the shelves, Erzhong Ren paid with his coins and waddled back out. Taking in his trail of slimy footsteps, Eathan sighed as he grabbed a mop and began cleaning the tiled floors.
Less than a minute passed when the bell chimed again.
Sera Dream was the one to breeze in this time, wool sweater slipping off one shoulder, vintage camera slung like a pendant.
"Morning, Eathan.” Sera gave him a smile. “Hope you don't mind, but I brought company."
She jabbed a thumb behind her, where Luke stood gawking openly at the shelves, eyes wide enough to take inventory by himself.
"Whoa. It’s like stepping into one of those overly aesthetic InterGram ads," he said, brushing unruly bangs away from his forehead. "So, this is where you've been hiding these days?"
"Sorry that Emily couldn't make it today," Sera added with mock solemnity. "She had a review sess for the upcoming finals. Couldn’t skip—unlike some people."
She side-eyed Luke, who merely offered a lazy shrug.
"I skipped the Algorithms review sess today," Luke sniffed. "For important field research into the pursuit of truth."
“Pursuit of a nap,” Sera corrected.
Eathan chuckled, the tension easing from his shoulders. "Well, welcome to my humble realm of markups and wonderous mops.”
Luke immediately leaned his body over the counter. "Speaking of wonders: ghost lights. Westpoint. South Gate. Last night. Did you all hear about that?"
“Here we go again.” Sera rolled her eyes.
"No, listen!" he protested. "It was practically spirit-static infused fireworks, and it happened right near the humanities building, by our CHN 104 professor’s office. You know, the one who claims his great-great-grandpa founded a secret cult—?"
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
"It's a flickering streetlamp,” Sera groaned. “The city budget cuts hit streetlights first."
Luke clutched his chest. "I thought you believed in me, Sera."
"I believe you need to sleep more.”
Eathan shook his head, settling onto the stool behind the counter—the one Taeril always favoured, worn smooth and faintly creaky by years of use. Without thinking, he reached into his jacket pocket and drew out a sleek metallic bar. He inhaled slowly, then exhaled a faint, iridescent cloud.
Luke blinked twice. "Dude, you smoke? Since when?"
"Quarter-life crisis.” He shrugged. “Or internship stress. Pick a vice."
Luke nodded, immediately sympathetic. “Love that for you. Can I—”
“No,” Sera and Eathan said together.
Their banter was cut short by yet another chime. Without glancing up, Eathan instinctively called out, "Welcome—" only to freeze, the upgraded [Calamity Radar] flaring amber before the door even finished opening.
A tall, oddly shaped figure stepped—or rather, hopped—into the shop under a sunhat so wide it had weather patterns. A single muscular, booted leg emerged below, each hop accompanied by an audible squelch. Distinct, green warts protruded beneath the hat brim, each glinting like emeralds under the morning light.
Sera and Luke turned, conversation dying simultaneously. Luke's mouth fell open. After two seconds, he leaned toward Sera.
"You... see that too, right?” Hid voice was barely audible. “Tell me it's not just me."
Eathan turned to the hooded man. "Good morning, Mister Jin Chan,” he said. “We moved the jellies—they’re on aisle four, third shelf down."
The figure emitted a croak of appreciation and began hopping down the aisle. He collected jelly packets in large, webbed hands, leaving a tasteful slime signature behind him.
Sera’s face twitched slightly, fingers drawn toward her camera before abruptly turning away, covering her mouth as a pungent smell wafted past. Luke just stared.
Eathan rang the items up, sliding the packaged goods across the barcode scanner like he’d been doing it since birth. "That'll be twenty-eight ninety-four."
Mister Jin Chan croaked, paying with the exact amount of coin change and hopping back out into the sunlit street. The bell jingled as the door swung shut, silence descending upon the remaining trio.
“…”
Luke cleared his throat, adjusting his shades as if that might help him make sense of the past five minutes. He glanced back toward the door, where the faint trace of slime still gleamed on the welcome mat.
"Um… not trying to judge customers or anything, but was that guy a little—"
"Toad-ish?" Eathan finished, already reaching for the air freshener on the counter.
"Exactly." His head bobbled. "Distinctly amphibian vibes."
Eathan didn’t respond immediately. He sprayed a generous cloud of lavender mist all around the shop, before levelled a deeply serious look.
"You shouldn't joke about that, Luke."
Luke blinked twice.
Ignoring his friend’s dumbfounded stare, Eathan set down the air freshener, then sighed as if disappointed. "Mister Jin Chan suffers from a very rare medical condition called Anuran Metamorphosis Syndrome. It’s so rare it only affects one in, oh, maybe ten billion people. Poor guy.”
Luke’s eyes widened. "Wait, seriously?"
Chewie chose that exact moment to drift in from the backroom, calculus textbook tucked under one arm.
"Completely serious," she said, hopping onto her stool and flipping open the textbook with practiced dread. "I heard it’s incurable, too. Read it once in a medical journal. Sad stuff."
"Oh gosh, I’m—I’m so sorry.” Luke’s expression contorted into one of morbid guilt. “I had no idea."
Eathan patted his shoulder. "Hey, it’s fine, you didn't know. Just maybe keep that kind of talk down in the future, okay? Amphibian-shaming isn’t cool."
"Absolutely.” Luke nodded quickly. “I'll educate myself."
"Good," Chewie replied. "The first step is admitting ignorance."
Eathan waved it off, suppressing the faintest twitch of amusement at Luke’s expression. Chewie hid laughter in her sleeve.
As the tension ebbed, conversation gradually resumed its easy pace, though Luke noticeably kept steering clear of amphibian topics. After ten more minutes of teasing and reminders about exams, the two drifted out, Luke promising—again—to drag Eathan to the bar “for exposure therapy.”
The bell chimed their exit.
The quiet that followed felt familiar and too big.
Chewie stretched, yawned, and eyed the door like it owed her money. “I’m going,” she said.
“Rift?”
“School,” she said, with the doom of a condemned general.
“Calculus, your favourite?” Eathan leaned on the counter, a smile twitching.
“Top three punishments,” she said. “Right after ‘diplomatic brunch with Meng Yao’ and ‘group projects.’”
“Character building.”
“Bone grinding.”
Before Eathan could respond, his wristband buzzed sharp. Not the [SYSTEM] chime—Li Wei’s encrypted ping, the one that always felt like a knuckle against bone. A packet opened, spilling a warped campus map across his vision. Heat-bloom signatures crawled around Westpoint University’s south side—distorted hearts, rose-lattice loops, a smear of velvet static.
AREA 003 // SUBSTATION ALERT
[Mission ID: RSC-B-4312]
? Threat Level: Class-B
? Target Location: Westpoint University
? Objective: Charm-type residues detected! Subdue root of residue and restore equilibrium fluctuations to prevent aggregated instability!
? Notes: crowd control risk, prior incident match — recalling details... Aligning ≈ Succubus-Fey patterns....
Eathan’s breath hitched. The word “Succubus-Fey” dragged a whole reel with it. A past spring breeze, the particular curve of Emily’s dimpled smile, the sound the world makes before heads shouldn’t.
At the same time, a new notification popped into his vision:
[SYSTEM] NOTIFICATION:
[Side Quest (new!)]
Seal Rift L-4312!
Reward: +200 Karma, +250 Qi Tokens
Eathan closed the packet, jaw set. “Looks like we’re going.”
“Field trip time.” Chewie slid the calculus book back into the drawer without a flinch. She bumped his shoulder as she passed the counter, already tugging the banner strap across her back.
“Luke said he saw lights by the South Gate,” Eathan mused. “Guess he wasn’t wrong.”
“Dude’s rarely right for the right reasons,” she said. “But we take the win.”
Nodding, Eathan flipped the [OPEN] sign to [BACK SOON], locked the door, and palmed the shutter runes. The scanner warmed in his grip, now a comforting weight that felt more limb-like than tool.
“Transit?” Chewie asked.
“Subway mezzanine’s clean. Cut through the park,” he replied. “Roof access on the east stairwell still sticks at the third landing.”
Chewie nodded, then grinned her first real smile of the day.
“Knew I was born to skip calculus.”