『 You should have deleted this game while you could. 』
There is an order to everything in the world-- that is the phrase that embodies my 'rare job' in this mobile game. But every fun game has a hidden route, a hidden adventure that is only unlocke...
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"I just need to talk, sweetie, don't be scared,"
Exterminator was a tease.
"We can't exactly talk about Mesmetopia in the open."
I held off pressing the button just yet.
What did her attack do to me that I haven't noticed yet?
She sat down, vulgarly, like a bird, unlike the model she is, atop the traffic light, and under her hood I could catch the smug smirk on her features.
"Tell me, Rulekeeper," she spoke in a taunting tone, "what do you know about the Game Master?"
And things stopped.
"The... Game Master?"
what was she talking about?
At that, Exterminator's smile fell, and a frown settled in.
"As expected, you are unaware of him. I have only just heard of it from the Dream-Eater, myself."
Exterminator stood up, looking down literally on me.
"You've met the Dream-Eater too!" I realized suddenly, "what's this about the Game Master? Is he the one that tells us what on earth is going on?"
"Hey, hey," she raised a hand, lips curving slyly, "I came here to exchange information, not to be demanded information."
And my fists closed tight, a sort of anger boiling my senses.
"What do you have to offer me?" Exterminator wondered. "Perhaps, identities?"
I flinched.
"This is a warning, Rulekeeper,"
Exterminator spoke up, her voice stern, "Dream-Eater, as well as many who are much more
angered about this than I am-- they are after our lives."
I couldn't suppress the hiss that tore from my lips, and the little step back I took in surprise.
"The winning conditions of this game is to be the last one standing,
at least that is what I assume from my conversation with the werewolf," Exterminator said easily.
"Now, your turn."
When she gestured toward me, I was filled with despair.
To be the last one standing, and you'll win.
That wasn't light information.
What did I have that could serve as equal payment for this exchange?
If my payment didn't live up to her expectations, would she kill me?
"Uncle Noel, comatose, in the local hospital," the words were torn from my mouth out of sheer desperation, "The blind night shift worker from the convenience store down third street."
There was a silence that engulfed us, but I could hear her chuckle as she mocked me,
"Good girl."
Then agony shattered my throat and I saw myself corrode.
