Night, pouring rain, riots.
The East District Investigation Bureau's building stood beneath the dark clouds, blocking out what little light remained.
Its enormous shadow shrouded everyone on Queen Street, including Su Mo.
Viewed through an ordinary person's eyes, human life in this disaster was like a dead leaf caught in a surging tide, insignificant and pitiful.
"The group strange tale scenario has begun."
Su Mo parked his delivery scooter along his escape route, then put on a baseball cap and a mask. He drew a deep breath and reached into his pocket, feeling the cross he had bought online and a switchblade.
After a month of grueling delivery work, Su Mo had spent every bit of his hard-earned savings on equipment.
He deftly slung his delivery box onto his back. He knew exactly what was inside: besides an assortment of items for warding off evil, there was the thin quilt Four-Mouthed Auntie had once draped over him.
"The ghost story game is full of danger, but for Ghost Story Players, every game is a chance to improve their attributes and grow stronger!"
Su Mo knew he was weak. His five attributes added up to just one point, but he wasn't discouraged. Having read plenty of novels about worthless underdogs in middle school, he understood one thing well—never underestimate a young man just because he had nothing.
"Strange tales are swallowing the city. Now that I know the truth, of course I have to give it everything I've got. If I really can make a living by beating ghost story games, I won't bother applying to grad school."
His frequent deliveries had made Su Mo intimately familiar with all nineteen streets in the Queen Street area. Avoiding the crowds, he prepared to take a shortcut to the Investigation Bureau's back entrance.