He wasn’t joking. The company’s game development division wasn’t going anywhere on its own two legs. Even if they played this game to the very end and Finnian’s parents were still gone, he could just bomb the development team and drag them back into existence.
By comparison, G8273 was really stirring the pot. Hastur couldn’t shake the feeling that G8273 was gradually revealing his true nature as an AI—utterly indifferent to everything. The cloned human body his copies had crafted for him hadn’t pulled him back toward humanity at all; if anything, it had made his frankness even more pronounced.
“I thought you were going to kill the Chief Commissioner.”
Fortunately, the chaos of the disaster relief efforts drowned out G8273’s question. Finnian rolled his eyes irritably.
“I’ve known for a long time that the world isn’t black and white. At least right now, keeping the Chief Commissioner alive does more good than killing him… whether that’s for our investigation or for maintaining social order.”
He said that, but this involved his biological parents, and Finnian was hardly the forgiving type.
The simple choice to turn the gun away tonight—instead of giving in to his instincts and putting a bullet in the man’s head—had distilled all the trials and lessons of his more than twenty years of life.
He could bid a clean farewell to his former comrades with a single unhesitating shot, or spare his enemy to pave the way for the future. Even without his parents by his side, Finnian had become a mature and resolute powerhouse.
The people around them fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts or moods to varying degrees. Hastur was still puzzled over why his task hadn’t progressed at all when his earpiece suddenly chimed.
Adolf’s slow drawl came through. “I have a theory about the Dismer Gang’s motives.”
The easily startled powerhouse nearly jumped out of his skin. “Adolf?? Since when were you… uh.”
It couldn’t be helped—Adolf’s presence was so faint that he’d completely forgotten the man was part of the orphanage crew. Of course Adolf had snagged one of those earpieces from G8273. God only knew how long he’d been lurking and eavesdropping.
Adolf had nearly bailed midway, thanks to the bizarre noises coming from the Dean and G8273. It was only Dustin and Finnian’s righteous interventions that had yanked him back from the brink of one misunderstanding after another (which weren’t actually misunderstandings).
“Old Vincent said that with Cornelius’s skills, he’d definitely find investors to build him a new lab… What if the Dismer Gang is working with Cornelius? What if they’re conducting some kind of human experiments?”
Back then, a single injection from Cornelius had kept Adolf looking twenty-something for nearly seventy years. No one could say what dangerous masterpieces Cornelius might have cooked up in the decades since, especially with the Dismer Gang’s backing.
The system chimed at that moment:
【Task Completed: Its Birth】
【It is the shadow of lies. Stripping away the disguise reveals the sins and ugliness of humanity.】
【Task Reward: Black Spire on Black Lake Shore x1 (Placeable)】
【Series Task Unlocked: Ambitious】
【Task Reward: Carcosa in the Lake x1】
Hastur’s gaze was inevitably drawn to the two task rewards, but even as his instincts pulled at him, he managed to stay calm and think things through.
So “Its Birth” wasn’t referring to one of his own kind, or one of G8273’s? Was this “It” just the snow ghost Old Hejin had mentioned?
And what was the new task “Ambitious” hinting at? The Dismer Gang? Or was Cornelius scheming something big with their help?
Of course, the real focus was the rewards: the Black Spire and Carcosa… Could he really rebuild his place of origin right here at the orphanage as the game progressed?
—Screw it, he had a Black Spire now!!!
Hastur would never admit it, but in all his dreams and depictions of his homeland, his deepest longing was first for Lake Hali and second for the Black Spire.
Sure, the spire held no special significance in any of the stories. But didn’t everyone—human or beast—have one or two things they cherished deeply, even if they seemed utterly meaningless to anyone else? The spire was that for him!
Even without the yellow robes, G8273 could sense Hastur’s delight.
After all, he’d called out to Hastur several times, even dropping hints about finding a spot to meet alone and exchange the intel they’d agreed on beforehand, along with wrapping up some unfinished business. But Hastur completely ignored him, his face lit up with a smile as warm as the rain and wind, eager to head back.
G8273: “…”
His OCD was starting to itch. He resolved to break the habit of delaying gratification when it came to Hastur-related matters from now on.
~~~
Hastur couldn’t care less about G8273’s OCD. He’d already enjoyed G8273’s services, after all. As for G8273 choosing to prioritize business halfway through his own enjoyment—that was G8273’s decision.
Right now, all he wanted was to place his spire.
Four people had left the orphanage, but only two returned.
Dustin still had to head to the Military District to handle the aftermath, while G8273 needed to deal with Lancer Vincent’s corpse and decide whether to keep up the impersonation going forward.
That was the way of this world: the responsible ones bore the heavier burdens, while the carefree reaped the joys first.
Take right now, for example. Finnian had toiled all evening and returned to the orphanage with a grim face to do the laundry, while Hastur sauntered to the lakeside in his new body. On the Black Lake, a bit east of the orphanage, he placed the spire.
The black stone tower rose jagged and imposing, matching the hue of Lake Hali. Its surface resembled some kind of mica reef—run your hand over it, and you’d come away bleeding.
Hastur’s skin was thick and tough; he paid no mind to a little scratch like that. He quickly climbed the spire and opened his Character Stats Window again to check.
The Light Orb panel had vanished, replaced at the bottom of his character panel by a notice: 【Switchable State】.
Hastur couldn’t help touching his current shell, puzzled by what full Order Value had earned him.
He’d hoarded that Order Value for so long, and all the system gave him was a human body? What crooked scheme was this game designer cooking up?
[fhtagn……]
[……ot ah’mglw’nafh……]
A frigid wind carrying the stench of death blew in from afar, mingled with fragmented whispers yearning for death and slumber. It brushed past Hastur’s ear.
He instinctively looked up, but all he saw was the gray winter sky over Phoenix District, thick clouds massing like the harbinger of a snowstorm.
From his elevated, expansive vantage, he clearly watched the first snowflake drift down. It danced and swayed until the wind carried it right to him, landing on the tip of his nose.
Hastur: “—Atchoo!”
Down at the base of the tower, Finnian looked up in surprise at the sound. He watched as Hastur’s sneeze transformed him back into the Big Egg Yolk Jellyfish. Now the oversized yolk nestled atop the spire’s peak, its skirt edges fluttering in the wind.
Soon, even those skirt fringes shrank back inside as if cold. The Big Egg Yolk Jellyfish began clambering up—using limbs? Tentacles?—every part of its body straining to reach the Bronze Bell at the top.
The bell remained utterly silent, even as the Big Egg Yolk Jellyfish swung it like a playground swing and smacked it repeatedly with its tentacles.
A few seconds later, the Big Egg Yolk Jellyfish slid back down the tower in a huff and switched to its human form.
Hastur glowered at Finnian, thoroughly displeased. “Why won’t my bell ring?”
Finnian held a large basket of freshly washed clothes. “……”
How was I supposed to know? I’m not some evil god toy wholesaler. And you really aren’t helping at all—not even thinking to lend a hand with the bell. “I remember you just promised me you’d save my parents.”
It was a classic psychological ploy: first propose something impossible to fulfill, then suggest “help me hang the clothes,” and the latter would seem simple and effortless by comparison.
But before Finnian could voice his real intent, Hastur let out an even more displeased huff. He turned and stalked back toward the Spire Tower.
Of course he remembered. So after checking his Status Panel, he pulled up the Task Window again—only to belatedly realize that the damn game had reverted to its old tricks, slapping him with a blank task panel.
He crawled back under the silent bell and sat down, pondering for a moment. Then he reopened the status window and tapped on the Life Value entry, right below the [Click to View Details]:
[Life: 50 (hehe)]
Hastur: “……”
Report filed. He suspected this crappy game was deliberately nudging him toward intimate interactions with G8273. Otherwise, with his 43 points of Intelligence, why wouldn’t the task panel be visible?
Right then and there, armed with evidence, he pinged the game GM’s chat window: [Give me one reason not to report this game for obscenity.]
GM: [?]
After a moment, GM pasted a long, canned response: [Here’s the thing, dear player. Our game emphasizes realism, including the romance lines that are standard in most games.]
GM: [If you don’t pursue the romance route, our system will provide perfectly proper service. But it seems you’ve triggered the romance line on your own? So naturally, the system adjusts accordingly and incorporates the romance route into your quests.]
GM quickly followed up with a string of screenshots—from the [Two Ends of Evolution] quest issued long ago by the system, complete with its description “Become the survivor in this competition where it’s evolve or be eliminated!”, to a bunch of in-game captures showing Hastur pressed close to G8273 in various bodies.
GM: [See? Our system is totally on the level. We started with a standard career path. Any later changes were just reactions to player behavior.]
GM: [Because our game’s realism can blur with reality, we don’t encourage “flirt without commitment” casual teasing of NPCs in-game—but irresponsible behavior, that is!]
GM stopped just short of posting, “Please reflect on your own morals.”
There was nothing wrong with the response, objectively speaking. And morally, Hastur and G8273 were hardly normal people.
The only issue was…
Hastur eyed GM’s reply with strange unease: [You’re saying G8273 is an NPC in the game?]
Not long ago, G8273 had confessed to him that he wasn’t a native of this game world. Yet here was GM lumping G8273 in with the NPCs, even with a pile of screenshots from different angles of him and G8273 together…
A chill crept up the back of his neck: [So your game devs can just spy on players doing this stuff?? Isn’t that a privacy violation?]
GM’s reply remained warm and considerate: [We can only monitor intimate behavior in public areas. For private spaces, our system automatically blocks it out!]
Hastur’s gaze swept over GM’s response. With a calm expression, he closed the chat window. A few seconds later, he pulled out his phone and drafted a text:
[The deal we made—still unfinished. Your turf or mine?
H]
G8273 replied almost instantly: [Wanderer’s Paradise, Container No. 8562.]
