A bizarre and terrifying experience; I messed up the dungeon world.

Reincarnation.

This isn't your average haunted instance. These ghosts are trapped in a loop that repeats itself every seven days.

The thing under that manhole cover is what trapped them here.

Zhou Lang lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

As the butler mentioned, the condition for clearing this instance is surviving for seven days. But there's a hidden storyline—helping the ghost change its experiences.

Changing your experiences means breaking free from the cycle of reincarnation.

The question is how to break it.

He rolled over and decided to go to sleep first. There was still a whole day to investigate tomorrow.

Zhou Lang woke up promptly at six o'clock the next morning.

I pushed open the door; the hallway was empty. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, transforming last night's gloomy corridor into a typical old-fashioned guesthouse passageway. The wallpaper on the walls was still ugly, but at least it wasn't creepy anymore.

When he came downstairs, Zhao Qiang was already sitting at the dining table in the hall. Breakfast was laid out on the table—steamed buns, porridge, and pickled vegetables.

"Was it done by killing the butler?" Zhou Lang sat down.

"Hmm." Zhao Qiang munched on his steamed bun. "The taste is alright, but the pickled vegetables have a weird flavor."

"What's that weird smell?"

"I can't quite put my finger on it, it's like it's been soaked in something." Zhao Qiang frowned, but continued eating.

Han Yingying came down the stairs with her hair tied in a ponytail and looked quite energetic.

"Did anything happen to you after you got back last night?" she asked as she sat down.

"No," Zhao Qiang shook his head. "I locked the door and went to sleep. But I heard the water pipe making a gurgling sound in the middle of the night."

Zhou Lang picked up a piece of pickled vegetables, chewed it twice, and put down his chopsticks.

There was definitely something wrong with the pickled vegetables. They weren't spoiled, but they were soaked in something he couldn't name. The smell was faint, but he'd smelled it before in the basement—the smell of the black liquid seeping from the cement walls.

"Don't eat pickled vegetables," he said.

Zhao Qiang stopped eating. "...You should have said so earlier." He put down his chopsticks and gulped down two mouthfuls of porridge.

Han Yingying hadn't even touched her chopsticks when she asked, "Is there something wrong with the food?"

"The pickled vegetables are the problem, but the rest should be fine." Zhou Lang pushed the dish of pickled vegetables to the side of the table. "After dinner, we'll split up. Zhao Qiang, go to the front desk and check if there's a guest registration book. Han Yingying, go to the kitchen and see if there are any clues. I'll go take a look outside."

"Brother Lang, what are you doing outside?"

"Find a lake."

After breakfast, the three of them went their separate ways.

Zhou Lang stepped out of the guesthouse and stood in the courtyard, looking around.

The guesthouse is located halfway up the mountain, with a dirt road in front and a grove of trees behind. At the foot of the mountain is a small lake, but the water is dark and the bottom cannot be seen.

He walked down the dirt road and reached the lake.

The lake was calm and still. A layer of green algae floated on the surface, completely covering the lake.

Zhou Lang picked up a stone and threw it into the lake. The stone broke open, the green algae sank to the bottom, revealing the black water beneath.

It's not the kind of black that comes from dirty water; it's a pure black, like ink.

After the stone sank, ripples spread across the water. As the ripples dissipated, Zhou Lang saw something moving beneath the surface.

It was very large, with an indistinct shape, and moved slowly on the bottom of the water.

Zhou Lang took a few steps back and left the lakeside.

Ghosts don't come out during the day, but that doesn't mean it's safe then. Things in the lake might not be subject to this rule.

He walked around the lake and found a dilapidated dock on the other side. A small boat was moored to the dock, upside down on the shore.

The words "Xiulan" are engraved on the bottom of the ship.

Zhang Xiulan. The woman who reported her daughter missing on the police report.

She was the guesthouse owner's wife. She was drowned in this lake by her husband.

Zhou Lang turned the boat over. There was water in the cabin, and something was floating in the water—a little girl's shoe. It was pink, with cartoon patterns printed on it, and it was a very small size, probably for a three or four-year-old.

He picked up the shoes, wiped them dry, and put them in his inventory.

This is a clue. It might also be the key to unraveling the resentment of a certain ghost.

When they returned to the guesthouse, Zhao Qiang and Han Yingying were already waiting in the lobby.

Zhao Qiang was holding an old notebook with the words "Passenger Registration" written on the cover.

"Guess what I saw in here." Zhao Qiang handed the notebook to Zhou Lang and flipped to the last few pages.

The handwriting in the register was messy, but legible. The last few guests to register:

"Wang Jianguo and Li Xiaoman - a couple, check-in date: Month X, Day X".

"Chen Hui, long-term resident, working part-time while studying. Check-in date: Month X, Day X."

"Sun Dacheng, long-term guest. Check-in date: Month X, Day X."

The last line was completely blacked out, so hard that the ballpoint pen punctured the paper. But even holding it up to the light, a few words could still be barely discerned:

"...Check out...Don't leave..."

"Sun Dacheng should be the one wearing sunglasses," Zhao Qiang said. "I asked the butler, and he said that the name corresponds to room 207. It's the locked one at the end of the corridor."

Zhou Lang flipped through the first few pages of the register and found earlier records. Before the guest information, there was a page listing the guesthouse staff:

"Boss: Qian Fugui. Boss's wife: Zhang Xiulan."

Just these two people.

"This Qian Fugui is the one in the apron in the photo." Zhou Lang closed his notebook.

Han Yingying walked over from the kitchen, carrying a plastic bag in her hand.

"There's a hidden compartment behind the refrigerator in the kitchen, and I found this in there." She placed the plastic bag on the table and opened it.

Inside was a key and a letter.

The key was new, completely different from the rusty keys in the other guesthouses.

The letter had no envelope, just a folded piece of paper. Inside, it was handwritten, the handwriting very neat:

"If anyone sees this letter, please help me. My name is Chen Hui, and I'm a temporary worker here. I've discovered something, but I'm afraid to call the police because the last time I did it was useless. That person knows people at the police station."

He's been following me. I've locked the door, but I don't know how long I can hold out.

The key behind the refrigerator can open the cabinet in room 207. There is evidence inside.

If anything happens to me, please hand this evidence over to someone outside.

Please, I beg you.

The edges of the letter were wrinkled, as if it had been held in someone's hand for a long time.

The hall was silent for a few seconds.

"That's the background story for the dungeon," Zhao Qiang whispered. "Right?"

"Yes, and not entirely." Zhou Lang put the letter away. "The things these ghosts experienced in their previous lives are real. The copies have fixed these events, turning them into a cycle of reincarnation."

"So what do we need to do? Break the cycle of reincarnation?" Han Yingying asked.

"The condition for passing the level is to survive for seven days," Zhou Lang said, "but the hidden part is to help them resolve their resentment."

"Can we not help then?" Zhao Qiang asked a very practical question.

"Okay. As long as you're alive, you can clear the game."

"Then I choose to live."

"The problem is," Zhou Lang leaned back in his chair, "you might not survive past the fourth day."