Dominic ran as fast as he could, but still couldn't shake off the spectral hands clawing at him. His limbs grew heavier with every step, his pace slowing to a crawl.
Eventually, he collapsed under the weight, pinned to the ground. He struggled desperately, until—he didn't know which hand it was—one of them twisted his neck with a sickening snap.
This brief "second life" granted through revival came to an abrupt, gruesome end.
The scent of blood saturated the air. Soon, all footsteps, panting, and screaming faded into silence. Only the wind remained, carrying with it the strange, satisfied chuckles of a dozen unseen things. Once those, too, dissipated, the dark road fell silent once more.
Before long, headlights pierced the darkness. As they swept over the road, a small pool of blood vanished into the asphalt, absorbed swiftly and silently.
None of the passengers noticed. Their eyes were drawn instead to the sudden appearance of a shop by the roadside.
Eric's gaze settled on the storefront as well. The sign, red characters glowing against a pale background, read: **Incense and Candle Shop**.
The bus slowed to a stop. The doors hissed open.
The woman in white descended first.
Eric watched the driver. His hands were no longer on the wheel, and a few seconds later, the engine died.
Was this his way of telling them to get off? Was this… the final stop?
It didn't feel like it.
More likely, this was just another stop on Route 144—a checkpoint for the players.
But it was only a guess. Eric asked the driver cautiously, "Sir, do you want us to go into the incense shop?"
A sharp inhale followed her question—someone clearly shocked that she dared speak to the driver.
The last player who interacted with an NPC was already a corpse.
The driver said nothing. He didn't even move.
The bus remained parked. Eric concluded that they were indeed meant to disembark here.
So be it. In supernatural dungeons, courting death was the only way forward.
Steeling herself, she stepped over Parker's lifeless body and followed the path to the front door.
By then, the woman in white had already pushed open the door and gone inside.
After a short pause, a few more players trickled out behind her.
The rest remained in the bus, watching anxiously through the windows.
Still, the vehicle didn't move.
Eric was increasingly convinced that entering the incense shop was mandatory. She stopped hesitating and pushed the door open.
A wave of thick incense smoke met her. The shop was cloaked in curling haze, dimly lit by an eerie white glow that barely illuminated its interior.
She held her breath, inhaling as little of the smoke as possible, and began surveying the space.
A folding screen stood just beyond the entrance. She circled past it and saw, aligned beneath the far wall, four towering incense candles—clearly the source of the overwhelming smoke.
The shop was spacious. To the left were all manner of paper effigies—paper people that appeared lifelike but had blank, uninked eyes, as well as paper mansions, paper cars, and ornate paper lanterns in a variety of styles.
To the right were two shelves filled with ritual items: sticks of incense, wax candles, spirit money, cinnabar...
At the center of the room stood a large incense burner, choked with the ashes of dozens of burned offerings.
Her first impression of the shop was clear: **danger**.
But the woman in white moved through it like a fish in water. Her stitched-on head lifted gleefully. Eric noted the seams pulling apart, but the ghost seemed unbothered, happily browsing the paper effigies—specifically, she was picking out a **female** one.
Eric kept a close eye on her.
She had a hunch—this ghost might be a clue. If players were to find a way through this dungeon, perhaps the woman in white held the key.
Still, the ghost appeared indecisive. Eric moved a little closer and heard her muttering:
"This one's eyes are too small."
"That one's too short."
"That one has too thick a waist."
As Eric observed silently, more players entered. The shop grew crowded.
She counted—just over forty had come in. Nearly half of the group had stayed behind.
But that didn't mean they were wrong.
Perhaps **they** had made the right call. After all, the driver hadn't *forced* anyone to enter.
Such was the nature of these dungeons—every decision shaped one's fate. The consequences had to be borne alone.
Earlier, she had warned others not to get off the bus based on a prompt—she'd been confident in that call.
But here, in the incense shop, with no clear instruction and only the woman in white to follow, she couldn't be sure. So she would not try to lead others.
She watched the ghost finally choose a paper effigy clad in pink. Eric quickly followed to observe the transaction.
The ghost hoisted the figure and approached the incense burner. From a low side table, she drew four sticks of incense.
Kneeling, she bowed four times. As her head dipped for the final time, the incense spontaneously ignited.
Smoke spiraled upward. The boils on her face worsened, and the seams on her neck split further. Her head sagged precariously.
Yet she beamed, placed the lit incense into the burner, and carried the paper effigy toward the exit.
Its eyes had been inked. The paper figure had been *given sight*.
The sight made Eric's skin crawl.
Other players stared, whispering:
"Did you see the paper doll's eyes?"
"She's getting back on the bus!"
"Does that mean… we all need to buy one?"
"Maybe this shop is part of the Route 144 mission. Buying something could be the key."
Their speculation buzzed in Eric's mind as well.
One thing was certain—they **had** to buy something. But what?
The paper effigies… with their eerily lifelike gazes… unsettled her deeply.
She hesitated. There were two options: mimic the ghost and purchase an effigy, or choose something else—candles, spirit money, incense.
Which was safer?
She couldn't tell.
Others were just as torn.
Eric made her decision. She would buy both. With her inventory space, she could store everything first and decide what to use later.
With swift precision, she selected her items and stepped before the burner, just as the ghost had.
The players all watched her intently.
No one spoke.
They wanted to see **how** she paid.
Clearly, the ghost had offered a price—a steep one. If the same applied to players, that price could be *life* itself.
Though they were technically dead, they were still "alive" within the game. A careless offering might cost everything.
So how would this female player "pay"?
Eric reached into her inventory and retrieved an item from the last dungeon: the human-headed fish born from the Dragon King's vengeance.
She wrapped it tightly in a towel to hide its form. In one motion, she pulled it out and slammed it to the floor, stunning it.
Then she laid the bundle reverently before her, knelt, and lit the incense.
"Shopkeeper," she said softly, "I offer this in exchange for the items I've selected. If you accept… please light the incense."
She bowed deeply.
She had countless supplies in her storage, but she believed only something born of supernatural origins—this cursed fish—might be worthy currency here.
Whispers stirred behind her:
"What is that thing?"
"Wait… how did she pull that towel out of nowhere?" Piper's eyes sparkled.
Jax muttered, "She must have a storage item. Those are *rare*. I've only heard of them—never seen one."
"What's a storage item?"
Eric tuned out their chatter.
She bowed four times.
On the final bow, a chill ran down her spine—a presence *watched* her. It was cold, sharp, and dissecting, cutting straight through her flesh to scrutinize her soul.
**Danger.**
Her mind went blank. Cold sweat drenched her back.
Shouts dragged her from the abyss.
"It lit! The incense lit!"
"She's not moving. Did it take her life?"
"Hey! Are you alright?"
Eric jolted upright. The four incense sticks were burning.
She rose, knees weak, and nearly stumbled. Catching herself, she planted the sticks into the burner.
She reached for the towel—only to find it empty.
The fish was gone.
She stared at the burner, on high alert.
That gaze earlier… it had *hungered* for her soul. Without the fish as barter, she might not have survived.
Other players swarmed around her with questions. She tucked the towel and her purchases away.
Jax was especially intrigued. If her storage item could fit a full-size effigy, its capacity must be incredible.
"That's my business," Eric said coldly. "No comment."
Pushing past them, she returned to the bus.
She was the first to return. The passengers onboard peppered her with questions, but she brushed them off, her expression closed.
Those who'd stayed behind fidgeted with growing anxiety.
They didn't want to enter the creepy incense shop—but feared that staying might have been the wrong choice.
The tension was suffocating.
Soon after Eric reboarded, one player gritted his teeth and got off the bus. Two others followed.
Inside the shop, Jax made his choice: a single bundle of spirit money.
He knelt with the incense.
He had his reasons. Paper effigies were too risky. Paper mansions and cars? Even worse.
The more valuable the item, the higher the price.
Surely a bundle of spirit money wouldn't cost him his life.
That was the hope.
He bowed.
A suffocating gaze fell upon him. He felt cold to the bone. Something was *taken* from him.
Shuddering, he realized—he had lost something.
He trembled, barely able to rise.
"Hey, you okay?"
"You good?"
Piper dashed over and grabbed his wrist. "Careful!"
One look at Jax's pale, dazed face told her he'd paid dearly.
"Don't drop the incense!" she warned.
Her words jolted him back to the present. He clutched the incense tightly and planted it into the burner.