“But then again,” she added casually, tilting her head, “if NPCs could take dungeon gigs daily, they’d probably earn just as much as this kind of job, if not more.”
“If I were their Builder, I’d rather have them focus on real NPC work and gain more experience for our own dungeon runs—instead of chasing a few extra points and burning out.”
This time, the boy didn’t reply. He just looked thoughtful.
“…Boss, did you say all that on purpose?” He Feixian finally asked after they’d walked far enough that the manager and the boy were out of sight.
At first, He Feixian didn’t catch what was wrong with Su Shisan’s words—but the tall man’s reaction made her realize something was off.
When she recalled Su Shisan’s final comment before leaving, the meaning finally clicked.
No one, regardless of gender, dreams of ending up in a place like this. The madam didn’t look like a good person, and it was obvious their lives weren’t easy.
Judging from the man’s earlier behavior, he clearly wanted out.
Su Shisan had just given them a decent escape route: NPCs could start slacking off under the excuse of being overworked.
Then they could reveal that each NPC fetched a different “price,” provoking dissatisfaction among Builders due to the unequal profit split—leading them to sever ties with the shop manager on their own.
She had even thought about the next steps.
If the NPCs worked hard to take on more tasks and earn points, and performed well in other dungeons, maybe they wouldn’t have to be “rented out” to places like this again.
As she walked back, Su Shisan replied casually, “Just a little give and take.”
Since the massage parlor manager tried to poach her people, she didn’t see anything wrong with returning the favor.
“Thank you,” He Feixian said tearfully, eyes brimming. She looked so moved she seemed one step away from throwing herself into a hug.
Su Shisan was glad she’d established clear boundaries from the start. She didn’t care how much of this was real emotion and how much was performative.
Skipping over the topic, she said, “Looks like the deeper we go into the main city, the darker it gets.”
Even the name “Backstreet District” sounded shady.
He Feixian wiped her tears and nodded solemnly.
“It feels dangerous. I always suspected that many Builders might fit the stereotype of being… morally questionable. But this is the first time I’ve truly realized it.”
“The system once said that being evil is actually a key trait for Builders,” Su Shisan replied, repeating what she’d heard earlier. She glanced back at the shadowy district behind them.
“Let’s come back when we’re stronger.”
That said, Su Shisan didn’t head straight home.
Even she couldn’t resist the classic “Since I’m already here…” curse. And since she was here, why not enjoy the experience?
Fear, after all, was still fear—whether it came from ghosts and gore or from adrenaline-fueled thrill rides.
It wasn’t as satisfying as a full-course horror meal, but it made for a nice dessert. Back when she was alive, Su Shisan often went to amusement parks just to scream her lungs out.
The real stranger to amusement parks was He Feixian. Ever since debuting ten years ago, she hadn’t stepped foot in one. She wasn’t exactly a fan, but after so long, everything felt new and exciting.
The two hit it off and spent most of the day there, trying every ride in the park.
After a full day of rest, Su Shisan switched back to work mode the next morning. She pulled up the dungeon replay and started reviewing footage from the new dungeon.
It had only been a day, but the new dungeon had already been activated twice.
Now that it had been upgraded to a D-rank dungeon, it was matching with D-rank players. The first team to enter wore identical white knight uniforms.
Judging by their gear, Su Shisan guessed they were from the White Knight Guild—likely a team here to strategize a full dungeon clear.
“Them again? That guild’s surprisingly efficient,” Su Shisan muttered as she watched the screen.
“Do they jump into every new dungeon the moment it opens?”
“Well, it’s the only major guild in the Lower District,” the system replied matter-of-factly.
“They’re the only ones who can shoulder the responsibility.”
That raised a question. Su Shisan paused the playback and asked, “Why is there only one major guild in the Lower District? How many are there in the Upper District?”
“There’s only one down here to avoid infighting,” the system explained.
“Different guilds always compete. These players can’t even clear dungeons properly—if they started bickering too, it’d be a disaster.”
Though it was a Builder system, it clearly knew plenty about player-side politics.
Su Shisan nodded. So, only one guild in the Lower District because players weren’t strong enough to make more viable, and to give them a peaceful growth environment.
After a pause, the system added, “There are three major guilds in the Upper District.”
“Player life does sound more exciting,” Su Shisan commented, shaking her head and resuming the playback.
Just like the previous team, these players already knew the six job roles. With solid preparation, they stayed relatively calm and quickly selected their positions.
There was a hidden trap: the warehouse manager actually required the most physical stamina. As long as the security guard had a stun baton, anyone could fill the role.
The team had clearly figured this out—the role of warehouse manager was taken by a muscular guy with a buzz cut.
The cashier was a bespectacled man who immediately found the price list and began memorizing it. The rest headed to their assigned zones.
Then came the NPCs. And under the buffs of their scripted personalities, they didn’t disappoint—boy, could they nitpick.
“Your smile is ugly—stop smiling. What? You’re not smiling at the customer? That’s not acceptable!”
“I fell and you didn’t rush to help me? I’m filing a complaint!”
“This product’s expired—why is it still on the shelf? What were you organizing?”
Unlike Su Shisan’s NPC performance, these residents had plenty of time and energy. They wandered through the entire supermarket and gave every player a hard time—no one was spared.
Their over-the-top enthusiasm actually made the dungeon harder, not easier. Even though the players had mentally prepared themselves, they couldn’t hide their growing exhaustion.
They weren’t pushovers, though. When faced with problems they couldn’t solve, they called the manager—not only to fix issues but to test how reliable she actually was.
The setup was consistent: the manager would help if it involved a clean player dealing with a normal customer. But she wouldn’t intervene with corrupted ones.
The first six players to enter didn’t leave behind much useful data. They made rookie mistakes—and some didn’t even know how they died, eliminated in a daze.
One such player was the warehouse manager. After glancing in a mirror, he lost the memory of it entirely, not even realizing there was a mirror in the restroom.
This doomed the new warehouse manager and security guard.
The security guard, notably, was strategically placed by the White Knight Guild to exploit a bug—they wanted him out early to help pass information to the warehouse manager.
On paper, that wasn’t a bad idea. If they knew in advance which customers were coming, they could prepare better and even take restroom breaks in between.
But who would’ve guessed both of them decided to visit the bathroom first, just to be safe—and got hit right off the bat?
Even if they hadn’t, though, letting the security guard out early was problematic. Su Shisan had deliberately left in a trap—players could use “false reports” to bring him out early, but that wasn’t to help them.
In fact, the baton wasn’t fully charged at the beginning. So even if he showed up, it’d be useless during a real crisis.
By noon, five of the six players had already been corrupted. The only one still clean was the cashier—probably the sharpest of the bunch.
He’d asked the manager about exchange rates when handed suspicious currency. And since he had memorized the price list well, the customers didn’t give him too much grief.
But when afternoon hit and the dungeon moved into Phase Two, NPC Thirteen entered.
As a corrupted employee, she could see everyone’s corruption levels—and made a beeline straight for the cashier.
To make sure this crucial NPC didn’t mess up, Su Shisan had coded her with nearly unbreakable psychological traps. NPC Thirteen pulled one of them flawlessly.
She teamed up with a corrupted customer, took the customer’s money, and told the cashier she’d pass it along. If the cashier refused her money, he’d have to cover the difference himself.
If he accepted it, he’d be forced to interact with her—and risk corruption.
There was only one solution: call the guard and steal the money back. But Su Shisan had also scripted several eerie events to block that.
In the end, the cashier chose the lesser of two evils and spoke to NPC Thirteen. Everyone became corrupted.
The supermarket fell into a haze of madness, and the manager stopped responding.
As expected, the players were completely wiped out—again. They didn’t even survive long enough to trigger the final two-hour battle royale.
The two who’d seen the mirror actually contributed quite a bit this round. They made mostly correct decisions—but their corruption value shot up fast, hitting 90.
Eventually, they lost their minds and were swayed by NPC Thirteen to lure their teammates into breaking the rules.
Since this was a guild party, trust among them was high. So one betrayal led to another, and Su Shisan shook her head at the screen.
“Didn’t we already show in the ‘Thirteen’s Perfect Companion’ dungeon that high corruption causes betrayal? How are they still not cautious?”
The second replay was even shorter than the first. That group didn’t even make it to noon before wiping out. Su Shisan sighed in disappointment.
She really wanted to see the final battle royale phase. Who knew when someone would finally reach it?
Shutting off the screen, she turned to the system.
“How many times can a D-rank dungeon be used?”
“Three to five times, depending on the death rate,” the system replied.
Then it remembered her dungeon’s bonus points and added, “At this rate, you’ll have enough points to buy your next D-rank NPC before the month’s over. Congrats in advance.”
But Su Shisan shook her head.
“No. I want to see what a C-rank NPC looks like.”