"Huh? Creekview Apartments again?"
Kane scrutinized the details and noticed both the Nightmare Mission and the Special Mission were located within Creekview Apartments.
"Could the missions be linked?"
A flicker of panic shot through Kane. While tackling both together might be more efficient and yield greater rewards... who was to say this d*mn app wouldn't pull a fast one? Dealing with ghosts was bad enough; what if combining the missions ramped up the difficulty and left him in pieces?
"No! Gotta think this through. Better safe than sorry!"
Kane forced himself to think calmly and make a measured judgment. He began preparations for his first mission, covering all angles.
"Gonna encounter ghosts... Salt Sprinkling got rated as a Spirit Skill, so bring three packs... no, five packs of table salt! Peachwood Sword, black donkey hooves... Nah, not tomb raiding. Heard butcher's tools have a fierce aura that scares off evil. Better hit the market."
Kane spent ages rummaging through the office. He finally packed a giant bundle resembling a turtle shell strapped to his back.
He briefly considered taking the Snowbloom pot with him but decided against it. Heavy, creepy, and obviously otherworldly – likely more trouble than it was worth. He left it behind, settling for stuffing a nearly-blunt pocketknife into his jeans.
It was nearing evening. Kane, laden with his bizarre pack, walked down the street, drawing stares. The temperature was pleasant, the breeze carrying a hint of dampness that should have been soothing. But his newly acquired Sensitivity kept picking up faint, unsettling presences, making him twitchy.
It took him nearly twenty minutes to reach the market. Kane made a beeline for the butcher stall. The burly owner was wielding a cleaver, expertly dismembering a chicken with swift, brutal chops. The blade's edge was stained dark brown from years of bloodshed. It looked menacing enough to unsettle Kane, a living person, let alone a ghost.
"Hey there, young man! What cut you after? None of that machine-killed stuff here! Freshly slaughtered today!" The butcher boomed, wiping his hands on a filthy, blood-smeared apron. His forearms were thicker than Kane's thighs, covered in coarse hair, radiating raw masculinity and an intense, almost painful aura of slaughter that prickled Kane's newly awakened senses.
"Aha... haha... Actually, I don't need meat. Was wondering... you selling that cleaver?" Kane stammered, wilting slightly under the man's intimidating presence.
"My cleaver? Not buying meat? Then get outta the way! Got real customers waitin'! D*mn lunatic!" The butcher's temper flared at the mention of the knife, ready to shoo Kane off. But Kane was determined. This mission meant potential ghost encounters; he wasn't leaving unprepared.
"No, no, boss! I'm serious! Look, how about a hundred bucks for it? This thing's ancient, worth maybe twenty or thirty tops. Probably can't even give it away! Sell it to me, get yourself a shiny new one!" Kane offered, his heart bleeding at the price. He was down to his last few hundred bucks. But safety first! Besides, completing the mission meant cash rewards. This was an investment, he told himself desperately.
"A hundred..." The butcher visibly hesitated, hefting the cleaver with its cracked wooden handle, clearly tempted. But he finally shook his head. "Sorry, kid. Need it for business today. Only got the one. No other knife shops nearby neither. Come back tomorrow? I'll bring a new one, give you this old girl then."
Kane sighed, frustrated. The mission only gave him 48 hours. Waiting until tomorrow might leave him short on time. He turned to leave, but his eyes caught the blood-stained *apron* tied around the butcher's ample waist.
"Say... boss? How much for *that*?"
After a spirited round of haggling where Kane deployed his silver tongue, he finally secured the grimy, blood-encrusted, frilly apron for the princely sum of five bucks. The apron was a crusty tapestry of dark brown stains, reeking of old blood.
"The cleaver's a no-go, but the butcher's apron should work just as well! Might even be scarier in its own way!"
Kane grew increasingly pleased with his purchase, almost kissing it. He promptly tied it around his waist over his clothes.
The moment it was secured, a palpable aura of slaughter enveloped him. The constant, uneasy feeling of being watched vanished instantly. The overpowering stench of blood seemed to mask his own newfound "appeal." Even the living pedestrians gave him a wide berth.
"Perfect!"
Thus adorned in his bloody apron and giant turtle-shell backpack, Kane cut a ridiculous figure on the sidewalk.
He flagged down several taxis, but drivers took one look and sped off, fearing a madman. He finally resorted to hiding behind a tree, then dashing into a cab the moment a passenger got out. The driver, sweat dripping down his temples, kept glancing nervously at Kane in the rearview mirror but didn't dare speak. Kane enjoyed the silence, pulling out his phone to research Creekview Apartments.
He quickly found unsettling information. Years ago, Creekview Apartments was a green, tranquil community famous for residents' potted plants. Then, a woman vanished. Police investigated for over a year, finding nothing. It remained an unsolved mystery.
Stranger things followed. A year later, one night, a family fled their apartment screaming about ghosts. Similar incidents piled up. All witnesses described the same thing: a woman in a bloodied white dress, covered in gaping wounds, suddenly appearing, smashing their potted plants, and weeping about finding her remains. Some even captured bizarre photos showing only floating plants that then crashed to the floor – no woman in sight.
Since then, the urban legend of the "Flesh Pot Nightmare" haunted the complex. The story warned that anyone keeping potted plants would be visited by the ghostly woman. Creekview Apartments residents stopped keeping plants entirely. Many moved away. Property values plummeted.
"D*mn... My prep might *still* not be enough..." Kane muttered, wiping cold sweat from his brow as he read the accounts.
"Maybe I should call Leo... Embarrassment beats death..."
Kane pulled out his phone, thumb hovering over Leo's number... then put it away at the last second. Even shameless Kane felt bad constantly leaning on a kid who idolized him.
"Probably fake. Seeing is believing. As long as I don't bump into her myself, I'm a staunch skeptic!"
Kane tried to bolster his courage.
The taxi ride took half an hour. When they arrived, the driver cautiously announced their destination, only daring to state the fare after Kane had already gotten out.
"Uh... sir? Thirty-three seventy..."
"Oh, right. Hang on." Kane fished for his wallet, offering the driver a polite smile.
That smile seemed to electrocute the man. He slammed the accelerator. The taxi's engine roared as it peeled away, leaving Kane standing alone on the curb, holding his change, utterly bewildered.
"What the hell?"
Puzzled but seeing the silver lining in a free ride, Kane pocketed the cash with a shrug.
Creekview Apartments loomed before him. Kane strode through the entrance. A security guard watched him intently but didn't intervene – no valid reason, and Kane looked seriously unhinged. The guard just muttered urgently into his walkie-talkie, warning others about a "dangerous individual" entering the complex.
Kane ignored him. He walked along the path, observing. Just as the internet described: what was once a lush green community now showed little life besides a few trees. Few people were around, mostly elderly residents. The younger ones had likely moved or stayed indoors.
Kane wandered slowly. Near Building 3, he spotted the first young person.
"Gardening?"
From a distance, the figure crouched, holding a small trowel, seemingly planting something. Getting closer, Kane confirmed it was a man tending to a small flower bed.
The patch, maybe ten square meters, was filled with an unfamiliar flower. They were an ethereal shade of turquoise-blue, beautiful yet strangely lonely in this plant-devoid zone. The man seemed utterly captivated, lost in their fragrance, oblivious to everything else.
"This guy... looks familiar."
Remembering the taxi driver, Kane kept his distance, not wanting to scare the man off. From afar, the gardener had pale skin, messy hair, and a small black mole near his eye. He looked much thinner and more haggard than in old news reports Kane recalled. It took Kane a moment to place him: Alan, the lover of the missing woman, Eve.
Kane wanted to approach but couldn't think of a plausible opener. "Hey, did you chop up your girlfriend and bury her in a flowerpot?" wasn't exactly an icebreaker. The guy was more likely to respond with a shovel to the skull than conversation.
"You! Turn around! Where'd you come from?!"
A tense, youthful voice barked from behind Kane just as he pondered his next move. Kane turned to see a young security guard, barely twenty-two or three, aiming pepper spray at him, his eyes wide with alarm at the blood-soaked apron.
"Oh? Opportunity!"
A grin spread across Kane's face. His inner cult-leader vibe clicked back on. He adopted an air of stern authority, slowly raising a finger to his lips in a universal "shush" gesture, signaling the guard to be quiet and calm down.
"Shh! Don't spook the suspect!" Kane's voice was low, deadly serious, like he was on a covert op.
The guard blinked. "Suspect? Who? The gardener?" He looked baffled. *You're* the one who looks dangerous!
"Who are you? Why's your apron covered in blood?" The guard lowered the spray slightly, suspicion warring with confusion.
Kane smiled. He pulled out a cheap plastic toy badge emblazoned with Peppa Pig, flashed it quickly in the guard's face, then pocketed it.
"Name's Kane. Plainclothes Officer." He stated with absolute confidence, gesturing at his outfit. "The apron? Just part of the disguise."
The guard stared, dumbfounded. Plainclothes? Disguise? His mind raced. The guy showed *something* that looked vaguely badge-shaped, though too fast to see clearly. Plus, no actual lunatic would dress like *this* pretending to be a cop, right? It was too ridiculous, too obvious! It *had* to be legit!
The guard holstered his spray. He felt awkward demanding to see the badge again. Surely no crazy person would pull a stunt this bold?
...Right?