After Mrs. Fornier left, the group gathered under the dim lamplight to analyze their current predicament.

Freud had taken notes, listing his observations clearly: “This town is divided by several conflicting forces, primarily the bloodline hierarchy and the inequitable distribution of resources.”

“I looked deeper into the bloodline system today,” Nana said. “The gods granted Moonfall’s residents extraordinary bodies, slower aging, greater strength. But due to bloodline stratification, these gifts manifest unevenly. The upper class shows signs of aging around eighty, the middle class around sixty, while the lower class… some are born with illnesses, others gray and wither before thirty. These traits are hereditary, so the three castes never intermarry.”

“Such a small place, yet so much discrimination,” someone muttered.

Shen Lin, recalling Layla’s words the previous night, asked, “When did this stratification begin?”

“Good question.” Freud tapped his pen. “Originally, all Moonfall residents were upper caste, aging at eighty. But three centuries ago, the first outsiders arrived, shipwrecked and stranded. The townspeople welcomed them as friends. One of them, the ancestor of the Harrison family, learned of Moonfall’s sacrificial rites, performed one, and gained unnatural power. That’s when the divisions began.”

As the others fell silent, Freud adjusted his glasses nervously. “The outsiders brought their culture, taught the townsfolk their language, introduced customs. This was an isolated, backward place, a blank slate. They adopted outside ways quickly: refined tastes, manners, kerosene lamps, pens, elaborate cuisine. Soon, outsiders controlled most daily necessities.”

“Harrison ensured the rituals proceeded smoothly, a form of ideological and material control,” Shen Lin added. “But they couldn’t stay long; the environment mutates them. They left overseers, like Cain.”

“Who turned from a gentleman into a grotesque dwarf,” Brian muttered, hugging himself. “Are we going to end up like that?”

“More pressing issues first,” Shen Lin said. “The harvest ritual, the town’s sacrifice, is in three days. Dylan hasn’t arrived. Or maybe he has… but vanished.”

Silence fell.

Outside, Moonfall’s crimson moon cast a bloody glow through the windows, dyeing the room in faint red.

“Who in this town had ties to Dylan?” Shen Lin mused. “Cain’s dead, consumed by the curse. That leaves Father Benson. But Dylan didn’t seek him. So who else?”

The group floundered, directionless.

Shen Lin pressed on. “This is a game. The Keeper’s clues mean something. How many NPCs have we met?” He counted them off as Freud took notes:

• Cain (the Messenger): Harrison’s overseer, mutated by the curse.
• Father Benson: The priest, controls resource distribution.
• Rodson: The mayor, outwardly happy but privately discontent.
• Lilia: The mayor’s daughter, seemingly naive but sharp. “She’s the only one with implied closeness to Dylan, yet he didn’t seek her. One oddity: Rodson didn’t know when Lilia met Dylan, but she claims it was ten years ago.”

Nana guessed, “The failed ritual a decade ago, was Dylan there? Did he see her?”

“Unclear. File it for now.” Shen Lin continued:

• Layla: The flower girl, oddly familiar with the town. “There’s something… unsettling about her. She reminds me of Lilia.”
• Landlady Anne and Mrs. Fornier (the equality advocate).
• Bartender Luther and Lina, the tavern owner.

“Named NPCs, at least,” Freud said.

“The rest are faceless,” Brian grumbled.

Shen Lin exhaled. “I’ve wondered, could the lost sacrifice from ten years ago still live here?”

“If so, they’d be a local,” Freud said. “An outsider would’ve mutated like Cain. None of these NPCs show physical decay.”

“Then we watch for someone like Cain,” Shen Lin agreed. “Tomorrow, split up. Nana and Freud, church. Avoid Benson, check murals for ritual clues. I’ll talk to Lilia.”

Yan Xiuyi, silent until now, spoke coldly: “I’ll go too.”

Shen Lin frowned. “I’ll handle it alone.”

Yan Xiuyi didn’t argue, but his stance was firm.

This man spoke little, absorbing everything. Shen Lin knew his type, silent until conclusions formed. He relented. “Fine. With me.”

Brian piped up: “I’ll scout for other… deformed people.”

As plans solidified, the Keeper’s voice cut in: “Late now. What’ll you do?”

Freud blinked. “Sleep…? What else?”

A collective shiver. Outside, townsfolk lurked, staring at the “cursed” house in horror.

Shen Lin yanked the curtains shut. “Sleep.”

“Hey, bro, ” Brian rubbed his arms. “Can I bunk with you? Feels like… something’s coming.”

Shen Lin deadpanned: “My high Inspiration’s a hazard. Your call.”

Brian glanced at Yan Xiuyi’s icy glare and swallowed. “…Never mind. Big boys sleep alone.”

Shen Lin chuckled, clapping his shoulder. “Don’t overthink it. Night.”

Brian stared as the golden-haired boy walked away, arrogant, yet not unkind.

Not what I expected from nobility.

, 

Deep in the night, Yan Xiuyi’s consciousness snapped awake at the Keeper’s voice: “Felton, roll Listen.”

Dice materialized. He rolled.

Success.

A woman’s voice whispered: “Felton, when you’re older, I’ll take you to that island, the emerald lake, like his eyes. Dreams drown, but I remember.”

“Roll Inspiration.”

Success.

Memories surfaced: Princess Louise’s fairy tale. Moonfall. She’d gone there with her fiancé… and his brother. Dylan Harrison.

“Roll Inspiration again.”

Success.

The Keeper paused. “…Again? You’re broken.” 

“Then: “Sanity check. Success: -1. Fail: -1-6.”

Yan Xiuyi rolled.

Fail.

The deduction roll: 6.

“Temporary insanity. Roll Willpower to resist.”

Yan Xiuyi: “…”

“Nope. You’re mad. Now, symptoms.”

He rolled a 5.The Keeper grinned. “You’ll believe Orion is your long-lost lover. Obsessive possessiveness. You’ll crave him.”