Chapter 99 Party 1 Invitation
When I woke up, it wasn't fully light yet. The snow was still falling outside, silently settling on the windowsill, enveloping the city in a cold, indifferent white.
You lie in bed with your eyes closed, the warmth of your dream still lingering on your forehead, but your heart feels emptier than ever before.
Xiao Qing's matter has come to an end.
There was no struggle, no resentment, no curses.
She simply left quietly and cleanly, just as you wished.
You also successfully expressed your contempt for the copy.
You thought this would bring a sense of victory, but it didn't.
More than anything, there is a belated sense of sorrow—a kind of sadness that you can't quite describe, a sorrow that goes deep into your heart but can't be put into words.
When you get up and wash your face, you look at yourself in the mirror: dark circles under your eyes, and a dazed expression.
How can a good night's sleep one day make up for several consecutive nights of staying up late?
You sigh and mechanically brush your teeth, wash your face, tie your scarf, and boil water.
My phone vibrated.
You quickly pulled out your phone and saw Matara's avatar flashing with a message: "Tomorrow's the weekend! Want to come over to my place for a small party? I'll have authentic Ross stew, cheese, and sweet wine! You'll love it!"
You stared at the message for a long time, as if your mind had been suddenly flooded with too many voices:
I originally wanted to just open the keyboard and reply "Thank you, I won't go," but I hesitated when my finger hovered over the screen.
You haven't had a proper conversation with anyone for several days.
Not much happens after entering this instance, but each one is extremely mentally taxing.
You feel more tired than if you had completed a full instance of the game.
"Attend a party..." you silently repeated the sentence to yourself.
You can't immediately convince yourself that you want to go.
But you can't immediately convince yourself not to go.
Perhaps Matara meant well.
After all, she has no idea what you've been through these past few days.
Maybe... just maybe.
After much deliberation, you typed back, "Okay."
The moment you sent it, you actually chuckled softly.
It's subtle and faint, but it definitely brings a sense of ease from the inside out.
You know it's not because you were looking forward to this party.
You just feel that maybe you should give yourself a chance to try and relax this heart that's always on guard like a wild beast.
You just want to have a simple conversation with people, not to extract information or to detect danger.
We just chatted, nothing more.
They might be able to enjoy a little bit of dungeon life, just like Xiaoqing and Tamara did before.
The moment you click send, the wind outside blows in, lifts a corner of your curtain, and falls on your face; it's a little cold, but not biting.
You whisper to yourself, "Don't become a cold, empty person who lives entirely within the rules so quickly."
She's gone.
Xiao Qing has been brought out of the cracks in the dungeon by you.
And what about you?
You also need to take yourself out there.
Even if it's only temporary, even if it's only short-lived, even if it's just a small gathering of strangers.
Since you've already agreed to go out and play with other people tomorrow, you're in an especially relaxed mood today, even humming a tune while cooking.
You slept soundly the next day.
You arrive at Matara's house according to the address.
It's not what you imagined.
You thought that a sophisticated girl like Tamara would make good use of this month to stay in a very comfortable mansion or something.
The building in front of me, however, was dilapidated, with peeling bricks and shredded newspapers stuffed into the window frames.
Your eye muscles twitched, but you still went forward. After pressing the doorbell, before she could reply, a gust of wind blew the building door open.
There was no access control at all; it opened automatically with just a gentle push.
The hallway was dark and damp, and there were even scratch marks on the walls, as if they had been dug out with fingernails.
Your steps came to a halt.
Should we go any further up?
Clutching the ghost bride's hair in his pocket, he was determined to go, even if it was just to see what Tamara was up to.
What's there to be afraid of?
—After what happened with Xiaoqing, you feel that your current mentality is so arrogant that it sometimes makes you secretly shy.
Cough cough.
You quickly reached the fourth floor and easily found the door decorated with colorful string lights among a row of old iron gates.
The door was ajar, a large pile of shoes remained outside, and bursts of laughter could be heard coming from inside.
As I stepped inside, the room was warm.
Before you even step inside, the smell of alcohol, mixed with perfume, tobacco, and some indescribable musty, sweet odor, already fills your nostrils like a thick fog.
Before you even took off your shoes, Tamara, as if she had eyes outside the door, peeked out and smilingly took your hand.
"You've finally arrived! Come in quickly, don't stand at the door."
Today she was wearing a transparent gray-blue tulle dress with no undergarments underneath, and her skin was covered with strangely shaped sequins.
Her makeup was as exaggerated as ever; even her smile looked like oil paint floating on her face.
You hand her the small gift you brought, and she hugs you with joy and surprise.
"You're so sweet! Actually, I didn't ask you to bring a gift. You didn't have to." Tamara chattered like a happy little bird. "Hey, I always said that when it comes to emotional value, we Chinese are the best."
Tamara winked and made a face at the room: "These Russians really are empty-handed."
Following her gaze, you look into the room.
It was a small room, but it was packed with guests, all of whom were young people from the country of Los Angeles.
Women and men slumped in various corners, holding bottles of liquor, pouring more and more strong liquor into their glasses. Round after round of this drinking game continued in the small space.
You can't understand what they're saying.
But Tamara always held your hand, and every time she spoke a few words to someone else, she would turn back to you and say a few more words, making sure you weren't neglected at all.
You can sit there, chat with Tamara for a bit, eat some fruit, and pass the time; it's not bad.
That said, Tamara's Rose language was excellent. She moved through the crowd with ease, her smile radiant. Whenever someone raised a glass and called out to her, she would tilt her head back and gulp it down without hesitation.
You watch her, and sometimes she licks her lips after finishing her drink. You don't know who she's teasing, but watching her like that makes you feel a little embarrassed.
Feeling that you were causing trouble for Tamara by sitting so close to her, you slowly moved to another spot.
Tamara noticed you sitting further away and kindly asked what was wrong. But seeing that you really wanted to be alone, she didn't say anything more and went off to socialize with others, even happier than before.
That's great. You're thinking about the time you spent with a few reliable friends during the Ying Kingdom instance.
Back then, even though everyone kept saying they needed to be vigilant, they were actually secretly enjoying life and treating the dungeons like an amusement park.
Lost in memories, you didn't stop eating, and before long you were almost full from the snacks and sweet drinks.
Looking around at the atmosphere, although it's lively, you gradually start to feel a bit bored.
You're not exactly a party animal anyway, and besides, without Tamara around, nobody pays any attention to you.
You try to join a random conversation with locals using slang, but they all give an awkward laugh, respond a few times, and then walk away.
Seeing this, you stopped chatting with them and consciously hid on a tattered leather cushion in the corner of the sofa.
After you stop trying to join in, you watch this group of people like they're on a reality show. At first, it's quite amusing—how can they be so unconcerned about the dirt? Everyone takes turns drinking from one cup, and they have to throw a ball rolling around on the ground into the cup before drinking it. These games make you frown and marvel at how different cultures really do have different types of vulgarity.
But, you slowly start to realize that something is wrong.
You're not unaware of partying; after years of being a corporate slave, you've seen it all. There's always some kind of indulgence at the team meeting after completing a big deal—but what's permeating this room isn't relaxation, but rather an indescribable frenzy.
—Like a tide that sweeps everyone in.
The longer you sit, the more uneasy you feel.
Especially the smell inside the house.
You felt unwell before you even entered the room.
But with the heating on and poor ventilation in the room full of Losians playing games and sweating profusely, you can understand why it smells so bad. However, now, that mingled fragrance and stench doesn't seem to be emanating from people's bodies, but rather... seeping from the cracks in the walls, evaporating from all sorts of obscure corners.
Your gaze swept over the plant in the corner and you spotted a fleshy, sticky membrane clinging to it, like the decaying tissue of something.
Does nobody care? Doesn't Tamara care either? Or is it that—
A girl staggers over, carrying two glasses of wine. She hands you one, then says in broken, whiny language:
"Have a drink, girl from the Flower Kingdom. You'll be lonely if you don't fit in."
You shook your head to politely decline, but the other person shrugged and drank your glass by tilting their head back.
She laughed so hard her lips looked like they were about to tear open, then she slumped back onto the sofa, leaning against you softly.
It's described as a human body, yet you inexplicably feel a sticky sensation.
You quickly moved to the side, leaving her limp and boneless.
interesting.
You know something's wrong, but you also know that if something's wrong here, you won't be able to leave easily.
You sat in the corner for quite a while, constantly observing your surroundings.
Hey, I wonder if it's the alcohol that makes the guests here gradually lose their "human" side. They all repeat the same behavior as if they were acting—drinking, cheering, laughing, hugging, and then drinking more.
Like an unnatural, looping video.
But Tamara, the hostess of the party, didn't even glance at you again.
She was the only different person here, always carrying a tray with small, clear glasses filled with vodka, each adorned with a rose petal, which she generously and warmly distributed to everyone.
You see two girls take the drinks, say something to Tamara, and then burst into laughter at you.
Then, the two girls walked towards you.
They sat down side by side, squeezing into your small sofa, one on each side.
Their actions seemed pre-arranged: they both raised their hands to put on your shoulders, tilted their heads together, and said with smiles, "Shall we go 'play something'?"
You didn't respond immediately. You didn't even turn your head.
You're just staring straight at the full-length mirror across from you.
There were three figures in the mirror.
You, the girl on your right, and the girl on your left.
Their hands are on you, but they're just your reflection in the mirror—
Their faces had no facial features.
You stand up and push them away.
They fell to the ground without shouting or screaming, but they all laughed at the same time.
You turn to leave, and suddenly you see them lying on the ground, embracing each other—a fierce, chaotic embrace, as if they were trying to knead each other into a ball, without shame, only absurdity and intoxication.
Meanwhile, Matara stood in the distance under the lamplight, holding the plate of wine, her smile unusually gentle.
Oh right, there's another person who's "different" too.
It's you.
Tamara is the hostess, but you are not the guest.
You're a "cook".
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Author's Note: Tiger has been reborn, returning to that night of unbearable pain, profound reflection, repentance, and the beginning of meeting you. This time, Tiger will write a novel diligently and reclaim everything lost.
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