“Hello? What is it?”
The store manager’s cool, dispassionate voice came through the phone.
[Changjiang No. 8] quickly recounted what had just happened.
“There’s a customer asking for a free item—she says the staff in the produce section gave her a rotten apple.”
“The produce section… Got it. Let me check the security footage.”
There was a brief pause while the manager muted the call. Then she came back on:
“Tell her she can’t get it for free—but we can mark the charge under a different department’s name.”
“…Wait, what?”
[Changjiang No. 8] was utterly confused.
Of course, when it came to tricking players, [Sensitive Plant] wasn’t about to explain a thing.
“Just tell the customer what I said. It’s not your responsibility.”
Since the instruction came from the top, [Changjiang No. 8] didn’t argue. He relayed the manager’s exact words.
Su Shisan, who knew exactly what was going on, put on an exaggerated pout and huffed, “Fine, lucky you. Now hurry up and ring it up!”
As a “regular” customer, the money she handed over looked perfectly normal.
In this game’s worldbuilding, Su Shisan hadn’t designed any visually unique currency—money looked just like it did in the real world.
However, the mysterious Specter Coins were ordinary bills that had their color drained—matching the eerie undertone of this supernatural supermarket dungeon.
After paying and leaving the store, Su Shisan morphed into a tall, thin young man with dark skin and headed straight for the household goods section.
When she arrived at the counter, she barked at [Jenny Textile Machine], “I want to buy an apple.”
“Excuse me? Apples should be bought in the produce section. Did you come to the wrong place?”
[Jenny Textile Machine] blinked, alarm bells ringing in her mind.
Nothing about her section looked like it sold apples—anyone asking for one here was clearly looking for trouble.
And sure enough, the man across the counter was fully prepared.
“There’s an apple in your drawer right there, isn’t there? Isn’t everything in this store for sale? So why won’t you sell it to me?”
At that moment, [Jenny Textile Machine]’s heart dropped. She realized, too late, that she’d been tricked.
That apple the earlier customer had handed her—it was a setup.
Rule #8 clearly stated that only household goods could be sold in this section. If she sold him that apple, it would officially become merchandise—and she’d be in violation.
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about. What apple?”
She quickly decided to play dumb. After all, it wasn’t like a customer could leap over the counter and dig it out himself.
“But I asked my wife about it,” Su Shisan pressed, undeterred.
“She said she gave you an apple. And now I want to buy it back.”
He even pulled out a receipt. “See? This is from the produce section—look at the number of apples listed.
Don’t think you can weasel out of this.”
“I… she gave it to me as a gift… I…”
Before she could finish, Su Shisan cut her off, voice heavy with authority and a deep familiarity with the rules:
“You’re going to go against my wishes?”
Rule #2: The customer is always right.
[Jenny Textile Machine] froze. She was completely speechless.
What now?
No matter what she chose, she’d be violating some rule. Which one should she risk?
Sweat trickled down her back. She had no solution.
Wait—security!
Suddenly, she remembered that one of the rules mentioned security guards being able to handle dangerous situations. Surely, this counted, right?
She deliberately ignored the second half of that rule:
“There are no dangers in the supermarket. Do not call security.”
In her mind, that line was obviously half-truth, half-lie. Since the guards were played by other players, surely they were reliable.
As for the manager… she wasn’t nearly as convinced.
“Please wait a moment. I’ll check with another staff member.”
With a forced smile to the customer, [Jenny Textile Machine] turned around and called security.
What she didn’t expect was [Old Iron], the player acting as security, coldly rejecting her request after hearing the situation:
“Nope. I can’t come over. I’ll show you the rule during lunch and you’ll understand.”
Click. The call ended. No room for negotiation.
[Jenny Textile Machine]: “…”
Staring into the void, she forced a smile.
“Sorry, please wait a little longer. I’ll ask the manager now.”
She had no other option. Might as well give it one last shot.
Cursing inwardly as she dialed, she muttered, Why is my skill so useless in this stupid dungeon?
The manager couldn’t care less about me, and now there’s a pair of NPCs setting me up for a fall.
But those two don’t even seem like important NPCs!
Why is my charm skill doing nothing?
Wasn’t I supposed to have affinity with them?!
“Hello, Manager? I’ve got a situation here…”
She described the issue again, hoping for a clear directive.
After a moment’s silence, the manager finally replied, “Rule #8 has higher priority.”
Click. Another abrupt hang-up.
[Jenny Textile Machine] was left in agonizing indecision.
There were only two options—and no third way out.
But… was the manager telling the truth?
As an NPC, she could totally lie just to screw over players.
After a long pause, pressured by Su Shisan’s increasingly impatient desk-tapping, [Jenny Textile Machine] made her choice.
“I’ll give you the apple back. You don’t have to pay for it.”
She chose to go against the manager’s order. If Rule #8 was supposedly the priority, maybe breaking it was actually safer.
After all, she’d just been burned by an NPC—how could she still trust them?
Besides, she had her own logic: if she broke Rule #2 (The customer is always right), that would be her personal failure. But breaking Rule #8?
That would be on her and the supermarket.
Maybe the punishment would be lighter if it was shared?
If Su Shisan had heard that, she probably would’ve laughed out loud.
Because she was right: breaking Rule #8 would shift the blame to the household section…
But the household section was her only shelter. If it took the hit—did she really think she’d walk away unscathed?
She might’ve avoided immediate punishment… but she was basically drinking poison to quench her thirst.
Su Shisan didn’t bother hiding her smug grin. With victory shining in her eyes, she held up the apple and strutted out.
“…I think I made the wrong choice.”
[Jenny Textile Machine] felt an icy chill creeping into her heart.
Meanwhile, [Sensitive Plant] was finally taking on her first task outside of handling customer queries.
She made her way to the storage room, where [Simple Minds, Simple Luck] was sweating bullets as he sorted goods.
“Why is the storage room still a mess? You’re supposed to be heading out soon!”
Arms crossed, she scowled at him with full managerial displeasure.
[Simple Minds, Simple Luck] wiped his forehead and bowed apologetically.
“Sorry! I’m really bad with stamina. Please cut me some slack—I’ll be done soon!”
Begging for leniency from a dungeon NPC was, of course, a joke.
[Sensitive Plant] didn’t even look at him. She glanced at her watch. “Five minutes.”
He had no choice but to push through his exhaustion.
As he hauled box after box, he cursed his earlier self for fighting so hard to get this role.
He’d thought being the warehouse manager meant he wouldn’t have to deal with customers.
And sure, he didn’t—but the workload was no joke. And it was all written into the rules, so he couldn’t even half-ass it.
Warehouse Manager Rules:
6. Keep the warehouse organized. All goods must be neatly categorized.
7. Every two hours, retrieve and store items from the miscellaneous bins throughout the store.
8. If any department lacks a salesperson, get the manager’s approval and assist security in removing unauthorized items per Rule 7.
Theoretically, the danger lay in going outside.
But here he was, still inside, and already dead tired. He didn’t even want to imagine how bad it would get later.
“Time’s up. The warehouse still isn’t clean. Get moving to your next task.”
Since the room wasn’t tidy on time, [Sensitive Plant]’s face turned cold.
She only helped players who hadn’t broken rules—and right now, he wasn’t one of them.
[Simple Minds, Simple Luck] gave a bitter smile as he stood. Maybe from exhaustion, his head felt fuzzy, and he couldn’t quite focus.
Still, the task had to continue.
He forced himself onward, heading to the household section—the closest department.
“Huh? What are you doing here?”
[Jenny Textile Machine] looked surprised. This was the first time she’d seen another player since they split up.
[Simple Minds, Simple Luck] looked relieved.
“I’m here for my task. Where’s your miscellaneous bin? I need to collect the items.”
“Right here.”
She handed him a cardboard box and grumbled, “No idea why these ended up in the household section.”
The box wasn’t full, but its contents were bizarre: underwear, raw meat, a goldfish…
He glanced at it, confused. None of it seemed obviously problematic.
Sighing, he muttered, “Let’s talk at lunch. I’ve gotta hurry—something bad might happen if I don’t finish this.”
If his failure got the clerk in trouble, he’d have to deal with it next—and that was the last thing he wanted.
“Oh, right!”
Just as he turned to leave, [Jenny Textile Machine] called out, “If you see any mirrors out there, let me know. It’s connected to my rules.”
“Mirrors? Bathrooms probably have them.”
After bagging the items from three sections into black trash bags, he followed the ceiling signs toward the restroom.
He needed to go anyway—then he’d lock himself in the warehouse.
His earlier experience had made it clear: the warehouse was safe.
Exhausting, sure. But survivable?
Absolutely.
Outside the bathroom was a yellow triangle sign:
“Wet floor. Mind your head.”
Such a typical warning that his guard dropped completely—what danger could there be in that?
He stepped inside and immediately saw it—a massive mirror covering an entire wall.
The surface was spotless, his reflection crisp and clear.
Even from a distance, [Simple Minds, Simple Luck] felt something was… off.
Was it just him, or did the person in the mirror look… way too handsome?
A lifetime of low self-esteem made him take a cautious step closer. His expression shifted from curiosity to awe.
The man in the mirror was everything he dreamed of—confident, attractive, somehow even pulling off that awful mushroom haircut.
It was… the ideal version of himself.
Was it just the lighting?
As the thought crossed his mind, he walked up to the mirror, mesmerized by his own reflection. He slowly raised a hand, pressing it against the mirror’s surface, palm to palm with the mirrored version of himself.
“You’re back? So next you’ll…” came a voice from behind. The speaker, Mimosa Pudica, who’d been inspecting the warehouse, paused mid-sentence when she turned and saw him.
Something was… off.
LuckyFool, who had just returned, looked mostly the same: mushroom haircut, thick glasses, and his usual nervous demeanor. But the overall impression was undeniably strange.
If someone had studied him closely, they’d notice—he was mirrored. His left and right sides had been flipped.
Mimosa immediately realized what had happened. Staying in character, she let out a theatrical sigh.
“Just… do your job properly, okay? I’m heading out.”
As soon as she left the warehouse, she contacted Su Shisan:
“The player in the warehouse’s been compromised. Must’ve caught his reflection in the mirror outside.”
Su Shisan let out a soft sigh. All the effort she’d put into designing that warehouse, and it was undone so easily by a mirror in the bathroom.
But then again, it was understandable. She’d deliberately marked the bathroom door with a bright yellow caution sign that read:
“Avoid puddles. Mind your head.”
Most players probably interpreted that as one warning: “Avoid puddles by ducking.” But in truth, “Mind your head” was a separate warning—because looking up was dangerous.
That giant mirror up there was almost impossible to miss once you did.
“Not necessarily fatal,” Su Shisan muttered. “Unless he’s really stupid.”
The mirror’s effect wasn’t instant death—it reduced a player’s SAN (sanity value), and flipped their perception of reality.
From then on, they’d have to do everything in reverse to maintain their sanity. Follow the rules as written? They’d be doomed in no time.
Judging from LuckyFool’s dazed, clumsy expression, Su Shisan had a strong suspicion he’d already broken several rules—ironically, it might be the very thing keeping him alive.
Mimosa Pudica quickly caught on to what Su Shisan meant. After a long pause, she muttered,
“If he ends up being the one to beat the game, that’s gonna be hilarious.”
Even Su Shisan couldn’t help but pull a pained expression at the thought. She pushed the ridiculous possibility out of her mind and turned to more pressing matters.
“How many players haven’t been corrupted yet?”
Since she’d been watching the monitors from the manager’s office, she had the answer immediately.
“Two. One’s the cashier. The other’s the clothing department clerk.”
The cashier hadn’t encountered any corrupted NPCs yet, so he was still untouched. As for the clothing clerk—he’d gotten by thanks to some clever bluffing and had even picked up a few tricks.
Whenever trouble arose, he’d invoke the manager’s authority, and for now, Jenny Jin couldn’t touch him.
“Got it,” Su Shisan nodded.
She gave herself a little shake, and her appearance morphed into that of a plump, middle-aged man in a red vest.
This customer looked much more normal than any of the others who had entered so far.
He didn’t resemble some refugee from a slum—instead, he looked like someone you’d actually see in a real supermarket.
Wearing a friendly smile, she marched confidently into the store and headed straight for the clothing section.
Watching her retreating figure, Yangtze No. 8 raised an eyebrow in curiosity.
“A rich guy from the neighborhood?”
Compared to the other customers, he clearly had a much better life.
Suddenly, his expression darkened.
“Wait a minute… red vest?!”
“I want to buy a full outfit,” Su Shisan said as she sat on a bench, pointing toward the mannequins.
“Style the look for me on one of them so I can see how it looks.”
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.