"Why do I feel like this area is spreading?" The agent frowned at his arm. He didn't believe it was an illusion. When he was first cursed, the black area was about the size of a fist, but now it had spread to the whole upper arm. The cursed area didn't hurt, but the muscles seemed unusable, causing the agent's entire left hand to be somewhat hard to lift.
Hunting also checked the wound on his abdomen; it didn't seem to involve any mystical powers, just a simple stab wound. Luckily, no organs were injured, but the cut was two to three centimeters deep and urgently needed stitching.
He turned to glance out the window. The night was deep, and the entire town was very quiet, seeming to have no night life. Hunting looked up again at the clock in the house; it was exactly 9:43 PM.
"Exploring at night isn't a good idea," he said. "There must be something very dangerous in this town. Better wait until the next day."
The agent disagreed with him, saying, "Even though we already know that if we don't act according to our 'persona,' we might encounter all sorts of unexpected events. But as long as it's not too outrageous, just walking around should be okay. At least we need to get a needle and thread to stitch the wound."
Saying this, the agent walked to the door, listening to the sounds outside. It was still very quiet, not even the sound of wind. Through the crack of the door, he could see a very faint light, which seemed to be a candle in the living room that hadn't been extinguished.
"Aunt Cain's clothes have traces of sewing and mending, there must be needle and thread in this house. It's too loud to go downstairs, I'll check her room first."
Hunting didn't speak, just watched as the agent took his gun and left. The second-floor hallway was completely dark, but the living room still had a lit candle, although the light was very faint, it illuminated the position of the railings at the atrium, allowing one to find their direction.
The agent moved like a shadow in the night, making no sound as he advanced. He quietly arrived at Aunt Cain's bedroom door, crouching at the doorway, pressing his ear to the door.
The breathing was weak but regular; Aunt Cain seemed to be sleeping soundly. She hadn't opened the window, so there was no sound of wind. From the light through the door crack, it seemed the curtains were drawn, with not a trace of moonlight.
The agent gently twisted the doorknob; the door was indeed unlocked. But the door was a bit old and inevitably made a slight sound when pushed open. Fortunately, Aunt Cain was sleeping deeply, not disturbed, which allowed the agent to breathe a sigh of relief.
Just as he was about to enter, he suddenly felt a slight tremor in the floor beneath his feet. This tremor was very rhythmic, indicating someone was approaching.
The agent immediately drew his gun, lowered his body, crouched at the doorway, and looked in that direction. A figure was approaching from the atrium, but the light was too dim to see who it was.
The agent held his breath, aiming the gun in that direction. But the person suddenly stopped. The agent continued to focus his attention and then felt the floor beneath him begin to vibrate rhythmically; the person seemed to be tapping the floor with their toes.
Very soon he read it; the person was sending him a message using the simplest Morse code. The spelled-out word was simple—"Peter."
The agent remembered that Peter's forehead was also injured. The wound wasn't shallow; it probably needed stitching too. But stitching a forehead wound with ordinary needles and thread would be very difficult. Perhaps the person was looking for other medication.
After sending the message, Peter slowly approached, just in time to see the agent put away his gun. Then he gestured to inquire, "Are you going in too?"
The agent nodded. The two of them looked through the crack in the door together. Aunt Cain was sleeping soundly with her back to the door. Upon entering, there was another door on the right, which was likely the bathroom. Strangely, there was a faint light in the bathroom; perhaps the light was left on.
The agent wasn't sure if the needle and thread were in Aunt Cain's bedroom; he was just gambling on luck by coming. It seemed Peter felt the same way, thinking the risk of going downstairs was too high and just came to look.
But soon the agent overturned his own assumptions. Because through the crack in the door, a shadow suddenly appeared on the balcony, agile and nimble, silently flipping into the room like a graceful black cat.
By the faint light, the agent saw that it was indeed Kate, with her big belly from earlier. They already deduced that Kate wasn't pregnant; her disguise might fool ordinary people, but not these professionals. She didn't even plan to seriously disguise, using a pillow to feign it.
The agent was actually curious why they were pretending to be pregnant. Now it seemed this didn't match their persona but was for some outside reason. Because they also suffered attacks.
Earlier when Peter was driving, things suddenly went wrong, possibly for the same reason as the agent and Hunting, doing things not aligned with their persona and getting penalized. But whether the pretended pregnancy was the cause was still unclear.
Later on, Ben and Henry Chao rushed over, seemingly not surprised by their car accident. They might have done something too and faced consequences.
It makes sense, entering this scenario with no rules explained, no one knew what the health bar above their heads was for, naturally thinking unconventional tactics might work to clear it. Without some losses, how would they know what not to do?
So they tacitly didn't ask Peter why the car overturned. No matter the reason, they couldn't resist now, so there was no need to lower their sanity by asking too much.
Kate swiftly turned over the room. This Batwoman was indeed experienced; her movements were quick and completely silent when flipping through the cabinets.
Until she pushed open the bathroom door, the agent heard a very faint gasp.
Both were curious about what Kate had seen, but the bedroom wasn't big; if another person entered, it would be easy to make a sound. No one was confident about cooperating seamlessly with Kate, so they chose to stay outside the door.
Kate chose to return the same way, directly leaving from the balcony. The agent initially thought of going in to take a look, but at that moment, Aunt Cain turned over, her breathing noticeably more rapid, looking like she was about to wake up. So the two at the door had to hurry back.
After returning to the room, the agent sighed. Hunting was already lying on the bed, asleep. The agent was about to lie down but felt something was off. He sat up again and touched Hunting's forehead. Sure enough, it was a fever.
This scenario was terrifyingly realistic. Being stabbed once in the abdomen, without any organ damage, and yet a fever was sure to follow at night?
Thinking this, the agent understood how dangerous it could be. Infection could be life-threatening. Now they had two choices: first, continue exploring the house to see if they could find medicine; if they found antibiotics, they might get through it. The second option was to escalate the situation and send him directly to the town hospital.
The agent thought carefully and decided they couldn't choose the second option. Because they really couldn't explain what happened with this injury. After all, they claimed to be traveling for leisure, agreed to the request to stay over, and suddenly such a serious wound appeared—anyone would know there was a problem. Raising suspicion among the story characters would not be good.
The agent thought carefully about everything seen and heard during the day in the house. If there were any chance of finding medicine, it might only be in the living room downstairs. There were many things under the coffee table in the living room; there could be medicine there.
So he left the room again, came to the staircase, and looked down. The staircase was really too old; no one going down it could do so silently. The agent sighed and carefully moved down.
The creaking sound of the old staircase was particularly piercing in the quiet night. But the agent couldn't worry about that; he rushed downstairs as fast as possible and started searching.
In the quiet house, aside from the agent's breathing, only the faint "tick" of the clock's hands could be heard. Fortunately, the candles in the living room hadn't gone out, providing a bit of light. After searching for a while, the agent finally found two bottles of pills, one for painkillers and another for fever reduction.
He didn't dare take too much, only two pills of each. Luckily, both medicines were in large bottles, so the missing pills wouldn't be noticed.
Just as he was heading back, the clock in the living room suddenly chimed with a "dong." Cold sweat instantly covered the agent. He turned suddenly to look and found the clock's hands pointed at ten o'clock.
An unsettling premonition grew stronger in his heart; the agent did not hesitate and ran back to the room, taking advantage of the chiming sound. After closing the door, he let out a sigh of relief but then became suspicious. Whose clock rings at ten o'clock?
He'd been here for quite some time before and was certain that the clock didn't chime on the hour. Not once had it chimed at the previous hours, so why did it chime specifically at ten?
Even if it was a clock that chimed every half day, it should ring at six o'clock and twelve o'clock. What kind of ghostly thing rings at ten at night?
This must be signaling something. But there was no time to explore this mystery now. The agent woke Hunting up, fed him a fever reduction pill, and they both fell asleep. At dawn, they woke up.
Hunting's fever had subsided, but he was still a bit weak, and the condition of his wound was not promising. The agent decided to find an excuse to visit the hospital during their outing today.
But someone was more urgent than they were. As they went downstairs, they heard Kate saying below, "Peter's wound is troublesome; it requires professional treatment. We'll drive to the hospital later..."
"No way!!!" Aunt Cain's sharp voice came from downstairs, "Are you crazy?! Catherine, you've gone mad! If you weren't pregnant, I definitely wouldn't let a madwoman like you come back!"
Not only did Kate feel inexplicable, but the agent also felt baffled. Peter's injury was obvious and had no need for concealment, and as the wound worsened, going to the hospital was entirely reasonable. What was Aunt Cain's reaction about?
"Aunt," Kate was clearly also dissatisfied; she said, "Peter is ill; he must see the doctor. We will leave soon!"
But then Aunt Cain suddenly seemed to remember something and changed her previous angry demeanor, speaking somewhat gloomily: "Then go. See if that idiot can be healed. If he dies, you'll be a widow. Just like me."
The agent turned his eyes, gaining another piece of crucial information: Aunt Cain was a widow; her husband was already dead. Only it was unknown when he died or how.
At this time, Peter came downstairs, comforting Kate, and said: "Don't be too upset, dear. I only have a slight fever; if there's some fever reducer, that'll do."
"No!" Aunt Cain said more sharply, "It'd be best if you died from your illness! Then my crazy niece will be normal! Get out, both of you!"
The agent squinted his eyes.