"Nope. This smell is criminal." I yanked a gas mask from under my seat.

Got it from the Warden of the Rotting Hosts after a Limburger run—dude said my face hurt his eyes and chucked it at me.

Joke's on him. Thing slaps.

I snatched the thermal box and hustled into the castle.

At the far end of the hall lounged Grand Duke Nortune—looking like he'd stepped straight out of a perfume ad, all perfect posture and unbearable attitude.

I barely crossed the threshold before he pinched his nose. "Remove that foul parcel from my presence at once!"

I rolled my eyes. Classic. He always put on the act, but no one drooled harder for garlic trash food than him.

"Your Grace, Tripas Tacos. Garlic topping, extra spicy." I set the box on the table. "Five stars, don't forget."

He cracked the lid with two fingers like it was toxic waste. The ghost pepper-garlic blast wiped out the entire bloodstink of the hall.

He flinched, but yeah—his Adam's apple gave him away, jumping like crazy. "How base... how utterly common," he scoffed, already reaching for his utensils.

I didn't stick around. Too many orders left.

"Wait!"

I turned. He frowned, then pulled a small crystal vial of deep red from his throne's armrest and tossed it. "Leftover from a wretched ball. An eyesore. Perhaps your pitiful contraption will find use for it."

I caught it midair—warm in my palm. HUD flared:

[SYSTEM NOTICE: Acquired "Essence of Life" x1. Restores stamina / Fuels spectral vehicles.]

Inside, I was buzzing. Out loud? Cool as hell. "Appreciate the tip, Your Grace."

I cruised out of Crimson Keep, but a chill crawled up my spine. Someone was watching. I glanced back—nothing but red mist.

Figures. In this freakshow, acting normal makes you the freak.

I shook it off, hopped on my scooter, and sped to the Slaughterhouse of Despair.

Boss there? King Butcher. Silent, ripped, built like a tank. Favorite food? Garden salad.

The irony kills me every time.

He didn't say a word, just took the salad. Then he grabbed a cleaver—tiny one, palm-sized.

My brain went straight to 'oh great, bug in the salad, I'm about to get diced.'

But nope. He pulled out an apple and carved few little bunny out of it, like some Pinterest mom.

I held the rusty-edged apple bunny like it was treasure, babbling thanks.

Last stop: Carnival of Screams.

Harlequin Rex, the Joker Monarch, always had the dumbest cravings. Today? Deep-fried Oreos.

His laugh hit before I saw him. I handed over the snack, still hot. He whined about missing a carousel explosion because I was "late," then shoved a rainbow gift box into my arms. "For you! Surprise inside!"

Yeah, hard pass. His "surprises" are either punching springs or exploding ink flowers.

I muttered a thanks and bolted.

Scooter purring, humming to myself, vial of Essence pocketed, bunny apple in hand, and a booby-trapped gift box balanced on my lap—felt like I'd won big today.

***

Evelyn had no clue Darren was spying from some tower, monocular glued to his face, his stare getting darker by the second.

"Vampire Prince... King Butcher... Joker Monarch..." His jaw clenched, eyes blazing. "Who the hell IS this girl?!"

Heading back to my dumpy safehouse from the carnival meant cutting through wastelands.

No mobs, no loot—just dead space. Perfect shortcut.

I was coasting easy, nothing but gray-white forever, when it hit.

A glowing blue rune-net dropped straight from the sky. Zero warning. Zero chance to dodge.

"Shit—" was all I got out before it slammed down, pinning me and the scooter like bugs in resin.

The weight crushed every ounce of strength out of me. I slid off the seat, limp.

"Gotcha!" a smug voice rang out.

Figures stepped from behind a boulder.

Up front was some guy with a wolf grin and eyes like knives. He strolled over and nudged my arm with his boot.

"Took us long enough."

"Darren's talking to you!" one of his goons snapped. "Where's the Omnipass? On you, or stuffed in that trash scooter?"

I blinked, dazed.

"You've got the wrong girl! I deliver food. If I had something like that, I'd be long gone from this gig!"

The guy named Darren finally spoke, voice sharp. "Still playing dumb?"

He crouched, tapping my cheek with the flat of a cold dagger.

"We've been watching you three days. That busted scooter blows past every domain wall. Don't push me—I'm not in the mood."

Panic surged. My eyes burned.

My only real secret? I'm not even an NPC. But saying that out loud? Instant autopsy.

He caught the fear and snapped.

From his coat, he pulled a squirming, eyeball-looking item. Pure nightmare fuel.

"If you won't talk, I'll just check myself."

The eye locked on my forehead, shoving into my mind.

"No—!" I screamed, thrashing against the net.

In blind panic, my hand shot to the gift box still dangling from the scooter's handle.

Right as that mind-leech presence dug in, the box snapped open on its own.

A shockwave ripped out—silent, unseen—then my HUD blew up:

[SYSTEM WARNING: Exclusive customer "Grand Duke Nortune" has detected a hostile threat to your life! Status: ENRAGED!]

[SYSTEM WARNING: Exclusive customer "Madam Faceless" has forcibly reactivated expired "Super Achiever Pin"! Status: ENRAGED!]

[SYSTEM WARNING: "Fruit of Love" gifted by exclusive customer "King Butcher" is withering! Status: ENRAGED!]

[SYSTEM WARNING: "Jack-in-the-Box" from exclusive customer "Harlequin Rex" has been triggered...]

The sky ripped open.

A blood-red cloud boiled over, Lord Nortune's fury booming across the wasteland:

"Who dares lay unworthy hands upon MY courier?!"

A school bell shrieked, stabbing straight into my ears. Madam Faceless's voice cut through like ice:

"Who's bullying my student near my jurisdiction?"

Boom!

A cleaver reeking of slaughterhouse rot slammed down inches from Darren's foot, the ground vibrating from the hit.

Then came Harlequin's laugh, shrill and unhinged, rolling through the air:

"Ooooh, surprise, surprise! Now... which little pest went and broke my toy, hmm? Heeheehee!"

Darren's smirk cracked and died.