"Brother Dou!" The armed player who had been about to attack was stopped. He looked at his companion with undisguised displeasure.
"I said that's enough." His companion—Brother Dou—darkened his gaze. Once the player had settled down, he turned toward the table beside them.
The baseball cap female player had returned to her companions, but she wasn't the focus of everyone's attention. All eyes were on the man who had intervened.
The brown-haired man tucked the bookmark he'd pulled out back into the book he hadn't finished reading. Then he looked up with a smile. "We're all newcomers here. There's no need to make things ugly and give the veterans in the restaurant a laugh."
Brother Dou understood what he meant. The players who had arrived earlier might already know the rules and could use that advantage against newcomers. Besides, the more people who survived until nightfall, the better. Even ordinary people could test the restaurant's rules for them.
"Even useless people have their uses." Brother Dou motioned for his companions to let the two people go.
The injured man and woman helped each other over to thank the baseball cap female player, but she waved them off, entirely unconcerned. She showed no particular kindness by offering them protection, either; she simply lowered her head and went back to her game.
The brown-haired man beside her was the one who invited them to sit down. "I'm Maris. What should I call you two?"
The restaurant had returned to normal. When no one else came in, the players began exchanging information and trading what they knew. But more than three-quarters of today's arrivals were newcomers, so most people were starting from the same point. Those who had arrived later didn't even know who had come yesterday and who had come today. Whether