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Damian leapt off the vehicle and scanned the surrounding architecture, his brow furrowing deeply.
The rows of identical houses resembled shipping containers—copied and pasted with eerie uniformity. At first glance, he couldn’t discern their function. Externally, they looked like identical tiny homes, but the entire area felt barren.
It wasn’t the buildings themselves that gave the impression of desolation—they were packed closely together—but the absence of any sign of human habitation. The streets were spotless, without a single piece of trash to suggest people lived there.
Using his assassin’s instincts, Damian muttered, “This place would be perfect for disposing of bodies.”
There were no surveillance cameras, no streetlights—nothing.
The bus driver, overhearing, shot the boy a terrified look.
Daisy Diamond, seated in her wheelchair pushed by Kane, seemed far less perturbed than her companions. Compared to them, she even looked pleased. “The ground is very smooth here,” she remarked.
Her attending physician, standing nearby, appeared incredulous. No need to force optimism, his expression seemed to say.
Daisy continued, “We’ll be staying here for some time to evaluate the living conditions. If you have any needs, feel free to raise them.”
The physician frowned deeply, jumping on the opportunity: “Then, for starters, we’ll need a map of the town. The nutritionist can handle your meals, but the rest of us also need to eat. Are there any decent restaurants nearby?”
He didn’t expect gourmet establishments in a place like this—he’d settle for edible food.
Five minutes later, after checking the newly updated South Hinckley Digital Map on his phone, the doctor let out a horrified scream:
“What is this!? Why are we surrounded by public toilets!?”
His reaction wasn’t unwarranted. The map looked almost surreal.
What kind of town only had a bus station, residential areas, a hospital, and a school, with the rest of its space dominated by public toilets? What on earth was the point of building so many? Were the construction workers out of their minds?
The real construction worker in question, Daisy Diamond, stifled a yawn and motioned for her students to wheel her into her assigned room.
Daisy’s unit was on the first floor, as were those for her doctor, nutritionist, and nurse. The first floor was slightly elevated for easier wheelchair access, but this practical feature didn’t seem to ease the doctor’s discontent. He, who owned a villa in London and high-rise apartments in the city, had never lived in such a spartan environment. Moreover, being on an island, a ground-level residence was exposed to potential flooding from rising tides and carried the constant annoyance of ocean winds bringing dampness.
Yet, Daisy Diamond had made up her mind, leaving no room for dissent.
One of the nurses returned from a brief walk and spoke in a resigned tone: “It’s true. The area is just public toilets.”
Though they were odorless and clean, the sheer number of them gave the place an unsettling vibe.
Meanwhile, the bus driver approached and asked, “There’s no supermarket or market nearby. Should we go into the city to buy food?”
This was precisely the issue Vivi had been pondering.
When the group arrived, Vivi had just assigned a second-floor room in the residential area to William, who showed no reaction. But the complaints from the newcomers were piling up fast.
Vivi had an epiphany: Assassins like Tal and William, and players who didn’t require food, clearly couldn’t count as “normal” residents. It took actual humans living in the town to reveal the flaws in its layout.
She dismissed William, suggesting he practice driving if bored. Then, she designated the outermost residential area as a commercial zone, purchased an upgradable supermarket, and made a call to Violin.
After becoming the owner of Iceberg Construction, Violin’s life had taken a bizarre turn.
A Canadian immigrant to the United States, Violin’s parents were factory workers in Otisburg, Gotham’s industrial zone. It was a district marred by pollution: the waterways teemed with carcasses of experimental animals, and the air reeked of chemical byproducts from factories like Black Mask’s steelworks and various pharmaceutical companies. Violin had grown up despising the stench of his environment. After losing both parents to illness, he drifted into Gotham’s main district, taking whatever odd jobs he could find.
Fortunately, his good looks and silver tongue caught the attention of the Penguin.
Becoming the middleman for Penguin’s smuggling operation wasn’t easy—it required intelligence and cunning. Violin proved himself by mastering the inner workings of Penguin’s enterprises and their supply chains. Along the way, he amassed a trove of secrets.
At first, Violin only sought to offer these secrets as leverage to his new employer, Daisy Diamond.
A man like Violin knew he could never ascend to Gotham’s elite. Even dressed in the finest suits, he couldn’t hide his air of desperation. His goal was simple: to be a loyal dog rather than a pack leader.
But fate had other plans.
Violin soon found himself managing government contracts for construction projects, outsourcing freelance gigs, and even dreaming up ideas like merchandising Gargoyle plushies when they started soaring through Gotham’s skies. By the time Children’s Day arrived, Violin’s business ventures included handing out free candy and opening a toy store and mall across from Iceberg Construction’s headquarters.
Parents visiting for balloon exchanges inevitably entered the mall after receiving recommendations from the front desk. Once inside, their children were captivated by toys, prompting inevitable purchases.
Though Violin’s ventures were still in their infancy, they had already created over a thousand stable jobs and provided temporary employment for thousands more.
At first, Violin’s ambition was simply to seize control of Gotham’s East End, turning the area into a “wilted rose” offered in homage to Mr. C. However, he now realized he had effectively “conquered” the East End in a completely different way.
If Iceberg Construction were to collapse, the thousands of workers who relied on the company would be displaced, new waves of crime would emerge, and countless fresh criminal organizations would spring up.
Violin stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows on the seventh floor of the company headquarters.
There used to be no windows here, just open space where the wind howled through the building. Homeless people who wandered into the building could jump from the edge to end their lives quickly and easily.
It was at this moment that Vivi’s call came through.
“A supermarket? Alright… understood…”
After hanging up, Violin called for his secretary but hesitated, then said, “Forget it, I’ll go myself.”
Violin understood who had granted him this life, who had allowed him the safety and opportunity to develop his company in Gotham’s lawless East End. If he had to make certain decisions, he felt it was only appropriate to handle them personally.
A large supermarket in South Hinckley Town?
He could undoubtedly establish proper supply channels, but wasn’t South Hinckley practically abandoned recently? A large supermarket might end up oversupplying a near-empty town.
Turning her small supermarket into a large one had drained nearly all of Vivi’s accumulated event tokens. With what little remained, she bought a watchtower, placing it in a corner of the town.
“Sigh,” Vivi murmured, “even fear points aren’t enough anymore.”
The energy that powered the gargoyles came partially from the fear generated by citizens, but this had dwindled considerably. Another portion came from The Silent Night, but the overall supply was finite. Repeated terrors—fires, floods, icy storms, and even fear toxins—produced diminishing returns on fear.
To combat this issue, Vivi had even taken the time to study Scarecrow’s theories of fear.
The verdict?
Rubbish.
Scoffing at Scarecrow’s uselessness, Vivi noted that the number of gargoyles circling Gotham’s skies had visibly decreased. Most now perched on lower levels, clutching balloons, while the skies were occupied by tin soldiers. Still, the lingering presence of gargoyles deterred most would-be criminals from testing Gotham’s recently tidied-up streets.
The system hinted that upgrading the watchtower would unlock a surveillance room, eliminating the need to install cameras throughout the town. From the watchtower, one could observe everything happening on the streets below as though through an omnipresent, invisible eye.
Unfortunately, Vivi had only 30,000 event tokens left—not nearly enough.
The newcomers brought by Daisy split into two groups: some ventured to Gotham’s city center for food, while others ordered takeout. Despite the unnerving proximity of countless public toilets, they reassured themselves with the thought that, at least, the facilities were unused and clean.
For the medical staff, as long as water, electricity, transportation, and food supplies were functional, staying here wasn’t entirely unbearable. At least, they told themselves, it was quieter than the city.
Daisy Diamond, meanwhile, took out the scroll she’d received as part of her mission from the League of Assassins. Locking the door to her room, she began translating the text. It wasn’t long before Vivi climbed in through the window, settling beside her alternate persona.
With the monthly updates finalized and implemented, Vivi had been working tirelessly for over ten hours. Now she finally had a moment to breathe and take stock of the game’s changes.
The most significant difference?
“The art style has changed,” Vivi remarked, brushing a strand of Daisy’s hair between her fingers. “Even the textures feel different.”
Before the update, the game’s realism was muted, with a dullness to the visuals and touch sensations that constantly reminded players it was just a game. Post-update, the 95% realism blurred the lines between the game and reality.
Vivi crouched down, studying Daisy’s features intently.
Daisy glanced up from her scroll, her pale gray eyes reflecting Vivi’s face.
At that moment, Vivi felt as though she was truly being seen, as though her avatar was staring directly at her.
She smiled. “No matter the disguise or the body, my characters are always gorgeous.”
Thank goodness the update hadn’t messed with her custom character designs—otherwise, she’d have lodged a complaint immediately.
As for the enhanced realism… Vivi had no fears of becoming overly attached to her virtual creations. Falling for a game character was akin to naming dolls or believing in the existence of tiny woodland fairies—a pastime for children, not her.
Playfully, she leaned in to nuzzle Daisy’s cheek, breathing in the faint daisy fragrance of her avatar’s hair. She opened the system interface, which now included a new Reputation Module. Each persona now had its own independent reputation stats:
【Anna Elek】
【Bella Bettywen】
【Mr. C】
【Daisy Diamond】
【Vivi】
“ABCD’s attributes…” Vivi murmured as realization dawned. “So that’s how it works. These evaluations aren’t based on the character’s actual personality—they reflect how others perceive them.”
Recognition determined attributes, which in turn created influence. As a player, Vivi’s attributes were detached from the game world and NPCs’ perceptions, so naturally, she lacked the corresponding influence.
A knock came at the door. “Professor, the takeout’s here. Is there anything you’d like to eat?”
So soon? What did you order for delivery to be this fast?
Vivi leapt out the window, landing just in time to see the departing delivery boy—a particularly puzzling character.
“So, you walked here?” the doctor asked.
“What? No,” the boy frowned, glancing at his phone. “I rode my bike. It’s parked on the main road leading into town.”
His expression twisted with confusion. After rubbing his eyes, he muttered, “Is your map… bugged or something?”
EasyRead[Translator]
Just a translator :)