Chapter 15: Cat and Mouse (7)

“I went to find that little boy,” Brother Hu said, his voice brimming with mischief, “and teased him with the rat doll. As expected, he has no idea it’s a rat. My plan is to let him grow attached to the doll first, let them bond, and then—bam—tell him it’s a rat.”

Ji Hei nodded, his expression calm but approving.

“Solid plan. Good luck.”

Brother Hu grinned, offering a quick thanks before tilting his head and asking, “What about you? What’s your move?”

Ji Hei paused, his gaze drifting as if sifting through the town’s secrets.

“This place is strange,” he said at last.

“There are mysteries here we can’t possibly unravel yet.”

He left it at that, keeping the details he’d uncovered to himself.

Brother Hu, sharp as ever, read the room and didn’t press further. 

Ji Hei wasn’t hiding things out of mistrust; his instincts told him the secrets of Cat Village ran deep, too tangled to drag an outsider into.

They ate dinner in companionable silence and retired to their rooms.

The night passed quietly, without incident.

Morning broke, marking the third day of the instance.

Uncle Ai arrived early, waiting in the lounge until both Ji Hei and Brother Hu emerged.

“Three o’clock, living room,” he announced with a grin.

“We’re going to the hot springs!” 

To an ordinary person, it might’ve sounded like a treat.

But Ji Hei and Brother Hu exchanged a glance, their instincts prickling.

They’d already noticed Uncle Ai’s pattern—one event per day, each with a hidden catch.

This hot spring trip?

It reeked of trouble.

They’d need a way out, and fast.

Ji Hei’s mind flashed to a clue he’d uncovered earlier: cosmetics melt under heat.

That had to be the trap waiting for them at the springs.

Once Uncle Ai left, Ji Hei shared his discovery with Brother Hu, who thanked him with genuine relief.

They parted ways to tackle their respective tasks, each carrying the weight of the village’s mysteries.

Ji Hei arrived at the village chief’s house with a basket of fish in hand.

The door creaked open, revealing an old man with a dour, shadowed expression.

“Are you the village chief, Grandpa?” Ji Hei asked, his tone polite but probing.

“I’m new to the village and wanted to pay my respects.” 

The chief gave a curt nod, his eyes flicking to the fish before dismissing them with disinterest.

“Come in,” he said, his voice flat, devoid of warmth.

Ji Hei tried to make small talk, but the chief was distant, even yawning mid-conversation.

Frustration gnawed at Ji Hei.

He seized on a hunch, leaning forward he asked, “Grandpa, I heard you’re an outsider too, aren’t you?”

The chief’s eyelids twitched, but his tone remained even.

“Yes. So what?”

Was his indifference because too much time had passed, or was something else at play?

Ji Hei pressed further and asked, “How did you adapt to life in Cat Village?” 

“The people here are good. I got used to it over time,” the chief replied, his words as empty as the wind.

Ji Hei’s heart sank.

This old man was a master at dodging questions.

Undeterred, Ji Hei tried again.

“Can you tell me about your life in your original world?”

The chief shook his head and replied, “I’m old. I’ve forgotten most of it.” 

Forgotten—or unable to remember?

The distinction mattered.

Forgetting implied time had eroded his memories; being unable to remember suggested an external force, perhaps amnesia induced by the village itself.

Ji Hei’s head throbbed with the possibilities, unsure how to proceed.

Desperate, he threw out a bolder question.

“Do you know the story of the cat and the mouse? Back in our world, there are so many versions!”

It was a risky move, like tossing a stone into dark waters.

The chief’s eyes snapped to him, a flicker of something—recognition, perhaps—crossing his face.

He fell silent for a long moment before murmuring, “I don’t remember.”

Then, claiming exhaustion, he shut down further questions.

Ji Hei’s frustration mounted.

The chief was impenetrable, a wall of stone.

With noon approaching, Ji Hei had no choice but to leave, his mind churning.

Back at the guesthouse, he wrestled with his thoughts.

How could he get the chief to open up?

Was he missing something crucial, some key to unlocking the task?

Meanwhile, Brother Hu returned to the guesthouse, practically glowing with success.

His task had gone smoothly, and his smug grin only deepened Ji Hei’s gloom.

Why did his own task feel like scaling a cliff with no rope?

Surely a beginner’s instance wouldn’t leave him completely stumped.

There had to be a clue he’d overlooked.

His thoughts were interrupted by Uncle Ai’s cheerful call.

“Come on, kids, lunch is ready!” Ji Hei followed, his mind still tangled.

After a quick meal and a brief rest, they headed to the hot springs.

The springs were a vision—natural stone pools steaming with heat, mist curling into the air.

It could’ve been paradise, if not for the lurking danger.

Brother Hu, prepared, had donned his cat mask, safe from the trap.

Ji Hei, ever the smooth talker, had already built rapport with Uncle Ai.

A quick mention of feeling unwell, and Uncle Ai sent him back to his room to rest, no questions asked.

Without that bond—or the perfume—he’d have been stuck soaking in the springs, trap or no trap.

Back in his room, Ji Hei spread out his notes, a habit he’d picked up from Su Luo.

Writing things down clarified his thoughts better than mulling them over in his head. 

“Village Chief Notes:”

“1. The chief might have been a player, or at least not a native of Cat Village.”

“2. Outsiders here gradually adapt to the village.”

“Possible Reasons:”

“- Gradual memory loss.”

“- Soul replacement.”

“- Brainwashing.”

These were the theories Ji Hei could piece together from the chief’s behavior. 

“3. The chief knows Cat Village’s hidden secret, likely tied to the story.”

Ji Hei’s gut told him the breakthrough lay in the chief’s outsider status.

If he could spark a memory of the chief’s original world, it might unlock everything, making the task a breeze.

But how to trigger those memories?

The special items—perfume, cat mask, pill, note—had already served their purposes, hadn’t they?

Ji Hei racked his brain, combing through the items’ potential uses.

The moon climbed high, but no answers came.

Still, he made a decision: he’d bring every item to the chief and test them one by one.

Something had to work.

Exhausted, Ji Hei turned off the light and slipped into sleep.

The fourth morning, Ji Hei was back at the chief’s door, brimming with determination.

“Grandpa, I brought some things from the outside world to show you!” he said, feigning enthusiasm.

The chief couldn’t refuse without seeming rude.

One by one, Ji Hei presented the perfume, the cat mask, the pill, the note—each met with the chief’s bemused, almost pitying stare.

Nothing worked.

As a last resort, Ji Hei borrowed the rat doll from Brother Hu.

When he placed the doll before the chief, everything changed.

The old man’s indifference shattered.

He froze, his face twitching as if a machine had jammed.

“I… I… how…”

His voice came in broken spurts.

Seizing the moment, Ji Hei leaned in and asked, “What’s the secret of Cat Village?”

The chief’s expression twisted, agony and conflict warring across his face.

“FAR…” he stammered, fragments of words spilling out.

Before he could say more, the chief’s eyes widened in terror.

In a flash, he grabbed a fruit knife from the table and plunged it into his own neck.

Blood sprayed, and he collapsed to the floor.

Ji Hei staggered back, heart pounding.

“Help! The chief’s killed himself!” he shouted, flinging open the door.

Villagers rushed in, their eyes darting from the body to Ji Hei.

He raised his hands, shaking his head.

“It wasn’t me. I showed him a cat mask, and he started muttering something, then… this.”

It was close enough to the truth, omitting just enough.

They demanded to see the mask and pressed him on what the chief had said.

“Something about a ‘heavenly god,’ maybe,” Ji Hei offered vaguely.

After a few more questions, they let him go.

He returned the rat doll to Brother Hu and shut himself in his room.

Heavenly god, rat, traitor—those were the chief’s fragmented words.

The first two tied to the original story, but “traitor”?

Who was the traitor?

The rat or the cat?

And who were they betraying? Ji Hei’s head throbbed.

Three words, and he was left guessing.

Still, he pieced it together.

In the original story, the rat and the heavenly god were linked.

If the cat was the traitor, it served as a force opposing the god, likely aiming to claim the zodiac title to weaken the god’s power.

If the rat was the traitor, it served the god, perhaps to secure the zodiac continent.

The cat, aware of the god’s plan, tried to stop it, but the rat sabotaged the cat, leading to its banishment.

Both theories pointed to one truth: this instance was a labyrinth of secrets.

Ji Hei shared both guesses with the system.

As he finished the second, a chime rang out.

“Ding! Congratulations, player, for completing the hidden task: Uncover the Secret of Cat Village.”

“Would you like to accept the long-term task: The Zodiac Continent’s Commission?”

“Reward for success: Gain the ability of one zodiac animal.”

“Penalty for failure: Varies based on story involvement (non-lethal).”

Ji Hei accepted without hesitation.

A non-lethal penalty for a zodiac ability?

That was a fair trade.

Besides, the zodiac continent tasks seemed to promise rich rewards.

He’d seen forum posts about other instances where players slaved away for a single item.

This instance?

Five items handed out at the start.

The benefits were unreal.

‘Task accepted’, Ji Hei let out a long breath.

The rest was straightforward.

The final three days passed in a blur, and Ji Hei left the instance, sending a friend request to Brother Hu as he stepped back into reality.