A question mark stamped on my background and race—like a stray cat blinking from a dark alley. Something’s definitely fishy.

This body probably isn’t just a throwaway NPC in a holo-MMO. There’s a door behind the door, waiting to crack.

System: “...”

Please don’t write yourself extra scenes.

I ignore the System’s dry cough. I slide the white-jade dagger back into my pack, then draw a growth weapon earned from the Divine Demon Tower.

Unexpected.

The weapon shatters in my palm, a string of white light winking out like frost under noon sun.

[Ding! Weapon has been destroyed]

I watch my empty right hand, calm as a pond at dusk. The electronic chime fades. I pull another weapon and slot it, and—

Just like before, the moment it’s equipped, it dissolves into white light and slips from my fingers.

Looks like I can’t equip anything else anymore. The river has decided my oars don’t matter.

The chime dies again. I finally tip my gaze toward Nan Jin, who’s standing close like a moon beside me.

“Yuzu, what’re you doing, hm?”

Nan Jin tilts her little head, curious sparrow eyes watching me after I break two growth weapons. “Why’re you just playing with gear, hm?”

“...”

We hold a quiet stare for a few beats. Then I yank another weapon from my pack and toss it to Nan Jin. “You put it on.”

Experiments need more than one throw of the stone.

“Mm… but I don’t use swords.”

Nan Jin cradles the level-70 golden growth longsword and peeks up at me. “And its stats are bad. It doesn’t deserve me.”

“...”

Amazing, my adorable idiot ghost—she really said it doesn’t deserve her. My lips twitch.

Well, she is a ghost. Even her brain-wiring floats like incense smoke, distinct and sideways.

“Just equip it for a test, okay? Swap back after. No big deal.” I grumble, thorn-soft. “Didn’t you say I’m important to you? Can’t even humor me with a weapon swap?”

“Mm… fine. Since Yuzu asked, I’ll reluctantly equip it for now.”

Nan Jin wrestles with herself for a long half-minute, then slowly opens her main weapon slot like a reluctant door.

For some reason, my request to change a weapon feels, to her, like asking for a life.

[Ding! Weapon has been destroyed]

“...”

Just as expected.

I rub my cute little chin and nod, thoughts ticking like beads. There’s a hidden link between this body and my idiot ghost, no doubt.

Forget zeroed-out weapon stats; both sides can’t equip at all. It smells like we triggered some mechanism, a tripwire in the grave grass.

Otherwise, this wouldn’t happen for no reason.

I’m about to dig deeper when—

White streaks flare around us. Players who were force-logged out blink back online like lanterns rekindled.

Maintenance ended faster than I guessed. The server’s night rolls on.

“Something up, Treasure Imp?” Never Give Up materializes and catches my knitted-brow face, a sweet fruit gone sour. “You look… not great.”

The Name-Is-Hard trio trails behind him, all curious, eyes on the bug-tier NPC who endured ten-plus minutes of maintenance.

“Nothing. I zoned out, thinking.” I smooth my face like silk over stone, then guide Nan Jin back to Moonlit West River’s group. “Let’s keep doing the event quests.”

Never Give Up nods and turns to the one literally named Hard to Name. “Where’s the next boss?”

“Tsk… coordinates to the Skeleton King at the Mass Grave: 1928,1039.”

Hard to Name clicks his tongue, then lifts his eyes to me. “Can you handle it?”

“Handle what? Find the word ‘can’t’ in my dictionary.” I square my very flat chest with imperial drama.

“You lead. Leave the rest to me. I’ll swagger, and I’ll carry.”

Hard to Name: “...”

“But the Mass Grave is where you spawn, right? This boss is, in the lore, your king.” Naming Really Is Hard can’t help chiming in.

“Hm? Is that so?” I genuinely don’t know those entries.

“Of course. The records say Treasure Imps are low-tier monsters summoned by the Skeleton King. You patrol for him across the Mass Grave. When all Treasure Imps are purged by players, the Skeleton King wakes from deeper sleep.”

“So by that logic, to reach the final boss, you’ve got to butcher me first?” My brow jumps, and my look toward Moonlit West River carries a needle of humor.

“No no no—boss, don’t get heated. That was pre-event version lore. We’re in the event version now. It’s different.” Never Give Up hears the thread in my tone and his inner alarm clangs. He rushes to soothe.

“Rest assured, we have zero designs on you.”

“...”

I was just asking. Didn’t expect them to panic like spilled ants.

“Enough dallying. Let’s head to the Mass Grave and finish this event.” I wave it off and tug Nan Jin’s soft hand, following the map’s veins toward the charnel field.

I’ve got a feeling—once we clear this event, all these rootless questions will find their tree.

We hustle to the outskirts of the Mass Grave. From afar, a thunderous roar rattles like drums in a tomb hall.

Bright skills bloom overhead, flashy as firework meteors. Someone’s already fighting the Skeleton King.

“Maybe we skip the last one?” Moonlit West River opens the event screen, counts boss kills. Their group already holds nearly two-thirds of the server’s total.

Even if we leave this boss, Never Give Up will drown in rewards. It’s almost midnight, and he works tomorrow. His will to continue drips thin.

However—

“Skip my foot. We go. We look.” I don’t budge.

I didn’t trek all this way to go home empty. Their people have jobs. I don’t.

At least check who beat us here to farm the Skeleton King.

No questions asked, I lead Nan Jin deeper into the Mass Grave. Moonlit West River follows with resigned speed, making sure we don’t walk alone into bones.

Night outside; in-game fog rises like cold breath from buried mouths. Graves multiply like winter weeds along our path.

On a slope, a rotten coffin peeks out half-buried, wood black and soft. Big rats scurry through the gravecloth and broken porcelain, loot scattered like dead stars.

Not far off, the Skeleton King’s angry roars tear the air. Crows lift from charred branches, ink-wings beating, cries sharp enough to prickle skin.

We circle almost half the field before finding them in a secluded corner: a group surrounding the Skeleton King.

Ah… Protagonist Lord.

With Nan Jin, I slip behind a headstone and peek out, half a face in moon-shadow, watching Protagonist Lord’s team burn the boss.

Tank, healer, DPS, caster—a full dungeon team. Even a walking wall like the Skeleton King, capped on armor and magic resist, gets danced in Protagonist Lord’s palm.

Xie Yiyao, a mage-healer hybrid, follows his calls, weaving heals and control while kiting through grave paths. When mistakes spark, the core—Protagonist Lord—snuffs them like candles.

“Huff huff… Boss, those two short legs of yours run too fast. We nearly lost you.” Never Give Up arrives after five, six minutes of my watching, finally catching up.

He flops down beside me, lungs like bellows. The Mass Grave spooks him every time; living in normal daylight doesn’t prep you for this kind of night.

The Name-Is-Hard trio stays cool as river stones. Even half-buried coffins don’t twitch their faces.

“Oh! Nice coffin design. Looks comfy to sleep in. Pity our chairman’s so timid. Otherwise I’d gift him one next time.”

“Honestly, yeah. He resists this stuff at work. We, the minions cleaning his messes, have it rough.”

“Suggestion: hit a haunted house alone on your day off and grind some courage. Or next time we farm Mass Grave bosses, we won’t bring you.”

Never Give Up: “...”

You three are demons, right?

How did chasing a Treasure Imp end up pinning me to the wall?