Chapter 379: You Get What You Pay For
Three days after Sora logged that specific line in her ledger, Chen Xu's
courtyard experienced a "Variable Shift."
Strictly speaking, it wasn't a crisis. It was a manifestation of inhabitants.
After the Empire annexed the Eldritch Realm, a massive volume of abandoned
structures was integrated into the Urban Reconstruction Roadmap. A portion of
these, once renovated, were injected into the housing market at remarkably low
rates. The administrative logic was simple: incentivize local residents to
return and restore the city's functional frequency.
The courtyard where Chen Xu had lingered for indeterminate years was on this
specific manifest.
The yard wasn't expansive, but its localization was optimal—situated at the end
of an old alley in the south of District 4, just a fifteen-minute walk from the
newly constructed commercial block. The Imperial Construction Corps spent one
cycle repainting the masonry, repaving the ground, installing modern doors and
windows, and even planting two saplings.
Because the overhead costs for the renovation were low, the listed price was
absurd.
It was so low that when the couple first viewed the data, their initial reaction
was a "Logic Error"—they assumed the price had been misprinted.
The husband was Zhao Dayong, thirty-two, a local resident. Before the
Scourge-Era, he worked in a factory. During the crisis, he sought refuge in a
suburban shelter for two years. Once the Empire stabilized the plane, he
migrated back and currently functioned as a sorter at the Imperial Logistics
Station.
The wife was Liu Min, twenty-nine, also a local, working as a clerk at an
Imperial Community Service Center.
The pair had been united for four years, living a "Nomadic Tenant"
lifestyle—migrating from District 2 to District 3, then 3 to 6. They had
relocated five times; eventually, they stopped unboxing their possessions,
stacking the cardboard crates in the corner and only retrieving items as needed.
So, when Zhao Dayong audited the price of the courtyard on the Imperial Housing
Platform, he refreshed the page three times.
"Min, look at this entry."
Liu Min leaned over to audit the screen. "State the price."
"Look for yourself."
Liu Min was silent for five seconds. "Is there a difference between this price
and a 'Gift' protocol?"
"It's basically a giveaway," Dayong said, slapping his thigh with excitement.
"District 4, South Alley. It was abandoned, but the Empire patched it up. New
walls, new flooring, and it even has trees!"
"Why are the parameters so low?"
"It's the Imperial Repatriation Incentive! Haven't you read the news? They're
suppressing the prices of renovated old-district units to encourage habitation
density."
Liu Min thought for a moment. "Didn't that alley have a high
Anomaly-manifestation rate in the past?"
"The past is an outdated variable. The Empire is in control now. The Punishment
Legion patrols the streets every cycle. What is there to fear?"
Liu Min hesitated. Dayong added the finishing blow: "I checked with my
colleagues at Logistics. Several units are already auditing this batch. If our
response time is slow, the opportunity will hit a terminal zero."
This "Scarcity variable" was more effective than any logical argument.
Two days later, the pair signed the contract and moved their unboxed crates into
the courtyard at the end of South Alley, District 4.
The move occurred in the afternoon under optimal weather conditions.
Imperial streetlights had already been extended into the alley. Though only two
had been installed, the illumination was sufficient. The gate was a brand-new
model with a fresh lock. As Dayong pushed it open, he remarked, "Audit this
craftsmanship. Imperial engineering quality is truly top-tier."
The two saplings were thriving, their leaves vibrant. The interior was
modest—one bedroom, one living area—with a kitchen and bathroom added during the
renovation. It was a compact layout, but for two people, the capacity was more
than adequate.
Dayong stacked the crates in the corner of the living room while Liu Min began
her audit of the kitchen. Everything appeared to be operating within normal
parameters.
Until nightfall.
Liu Min exited the shower, her hair still damp. As she sat on the bed, she
suddenly rubbed her arms.
"Dayong, do you detect a drop in temperature?"
Dayong was arranging the bedding. He checked the window. "The seal is locked."
"I know it's locked. But I'm feeling a chill."
Dayong tested the air. "It's within acceptable ranges. I don't detect a
deviation."
"Your physical constitution is too rugged; your sensors are faulty."
Dayong chuckled and pushed the blanket toward her. "Increase your insulation.
It's a new house; perhaps the masonry hasn't fully dried. The parameters will
stabilize in a few days."
Liu Min grunted in agreement and wrapped herself in the blanket. The logic
seemed sound. They terminated the lights and entered sleep-mode.
But on the second night, the "Cold" variable became more pronounced.
It wasn't a standard winter chill. It was a localized drop in temperature—as if
something was drifting from a specific vector and brushing against the skin. It
wasn't wind, but it was distinctly cold.
Liu Min sat up in bed, wrapped in a quilt, her expression showing signs of a
"Stress Logic Error."
"Dayong."
"Mhm?"
"Are you certain this unit is clear of anomalies?"
"What could be wrong? The Empire issued a Certificate of Compliance; the sticker
is on the door."
"Then why does the temperature crash every night?"
Dayong sat up, initializing his own sensory audit. This time, he detected it
too.
It was cold.
The chill wasn't leaking through the window or rising from the floor. It felt as
though it was diffusing from a corner of the room—directionless, but undeniably
present. He performed a sweep of the windows, doors, and ceiling. No structural
flaws.
He returned to the bed and looked at Liu Min. "It might be the plumbing. This
old structure's substructure is archaic. The Empire likely only renovated the
surface-level assets. The old underground pipes are still there; cold air might
be 'tunneling' up through the seals."
The logic was marginally acceptable. Liu Min forced herself to agree.
But on the third night, the parameters shifted into the "Alarming" range.
To understand what happened on the third night, one must audit the perspective
of Chen Xu.
Chen Xu had lingered in this yard for a terminal duration.
He had existed here since his memories began—first as a faint, almost
non-existent consciousness drifting in the corner, perceiving the world through
a low-density filter.
During the Scourge-Era, the noise levels outside were high. Screams, running
footsteps, panicked breaths. People would occasionally breach the yard to hide
before sprinting back out. Chen Xu watched them, wanting to express variables,
but he couldn't. His soul-density was too low to manifest, let alone
communicate.
Then the Empire arrived. The streets became safe. No one needed to hide in ruins
anymore. The yard fell into absolute silence—a silence more profound than ever
before.
Then, The Sovereign arrived.
The Master-tier Undead sat in his yard and reinforced his soul-structure. Once,
twice, three times. After each session, Chen Xu felt himself becoming "Thicker."
Not in physical volume, but in the weight of his existence. He could perceive
his surroundings with higher fidelity. He could generate clearer
thought-patterns. Occasionally, he could even make his silhouette visible for a
micro-second.
That single flash was a massive breakthrough for a ghost who previously couldn't
even maintain a shape.
Then the construction crew arrived. He watched them paint his walls and pave his
floors. He wasn't bothered by the changes; in fact, he was excited.
Inhabitants meant the end of silence.
When Dayong and Liu Min moved in, Chen Xu's "Excitement Variable" nearly caused
his soul-structure to destabilize.
People! Living people! Two of them!!
They had temperature! They made noise! They spoke! They moved through the
architecture!
Chen Xu drifted in the corner, watching Dayong carry crates and Liu Min organize
the kitchen. It was glorious. He had waited so long for this manifestation of
life.
That night, when the couple entered sleep-mode, Chen Xu drifted to the bedroom
door. He didn't enter. He knew he shouldn't, and he knew they couldn't see him
anyway. But he wanted to be close to the source.
By being near, he could sense their aura, their body heat, the rhythm of their
breathing. To a living human, these are standard background data. To a ghost who
had drifted in a void for an eternity, every second was a legendary-tier
treasure.
What Chen Xu didn't realize was that he was too close.
After Kaito's hardening protocol, his density was significant. Although he
couldn't yet manifest at will, his soul-body had begun to exert a weak-force
influence on the environment. Specifically: Heat Absorption.
The nature of a ghost is a residual state of soul energy. When active, it
absorbs thermal energy from the environment to maintain its structural
integrity. The higher the density, the higher the absorption rate.
Previously, Chen Xu was too "thin" to matter. Now? He was a heat-sink.
Every time he drew close, the local temperature dropped by three degrees. Liu
Min's "Cold" and Dayong's "Plumbing Theory" were both incorrect. It was simply
Chen Xu being too enthusiastic.
Third Night. 23:30.
Dayong and Liu Min were lying down, but their sleep-cycles wouldn't initialize.
Liu Min was buried in her quilt, showing only her head.
"Dayong."
"Mhm."
"It's colder than yesterday."
Dayong felt it too. He stared at the ceiling, sensing a "Chill-Drift" passing
over his face. "I'll report a maintenance ticket to the Imperial Property Office
tomorrow. Have them audit the pipes."
"You've been saying that for two cycles."
"Tomorrow. Guaranteed."
Liu Min huffed and pulled the blanket higher. The room fell silent. Then, Dayong
sat bolt upright.
"Did you receive that audio?"
Liu Min panicked. "What audio?"
"A sound. A voice."
They both held their breath, initializing a maximum auditory sweep. The room was
quiet. In the distance, the rhythmic march of an Imperial patrol could be
heard—distant and steady.
Then...
"...So happy..."
A voice.
Incredibly faint, as if transmitted through several layers of heavy insulation.
The specific words were barely recognizable.
But Dayong heard it. Liu Min heard it.
They locked eyes. Liu Min's face turned paper-white. "Dayong… tell me that
wasn't your output."
"It wasn't me."
"Then who processed that speech?!"
Dayong threw off the covers and stood barefoot on the floor. He snatched his
terminal from the nightstand and activated the "Illumination" function. The beam
swept the bedroom—bed, wardrobe, corners, doorway.
Nothing. Empty.
"It must have been an external variable," Dayong said, deactivating the light.
"Old alley. Poor soundproofing. Probably a neighbor talking in their sleep."
"We have zero neighbors," Liu Min's voice was tight. "We are the only ones who
have repatriated to this alley."
Dayong opened his mouth to say "Maybe it was the wind," but he swallowed the
logic. He knew it wasn't the wind.
They sat in silence for ten minutes, wrapped in their blankets. Once they
confirmed no further audio was manifesting, they slowly lay back down. Dayong
stared at the ceiling with wide eyes, his sleep-mode completely disabled for the
night. Liu Min gripped his arm with a terminal-force.
They didn't know that Chen Xu was drifting just outside the door, half a meter
closer than yesterday.
He was just so happy. So happy he couldn't help but let a single line of thought
leak out.
Day 4.
Dayong's performance at the Logistics Station was "Sub-Optimal." His colleague
noticed his dark circles were so pronounced he looked like he'd been hit with a
"Physical Trauma" debuff.
"Status report: What happened to your face?"
Dayong hesitated, then whispered: "When you relocated to your new unit… did you
encounter any 'Audio Anomalies'?"
The colleague thought for a bit. "Sure. My pipes bang like a Dwarf with a hammer
every night. Took two repairs to fix."
"Not pipes. Speech."
"Speech?"
Dayong checked the surroundings and lowered his voice even further. "Like…
someone talking."
The colleague's head snapped toward him. "Which sector did you buy in?"
"District 4. South Alley."
"The old renovation batch?"
"Mhm."
The colleague was silent for three seconds. "Brother… why it was so cheap? Did
you not audit the history?"
Dayong's heart hit a "Logic Error" spike. "State the reason."
"South Alley was a high-intensity Scourge zone. Several Rule-Based Scenarios
were rooted there. The Empire performed a global cleanup, so technically it's
'Safe,' but..." The colleague shrugged. "You know how it is. Cleanup or not, no
one can guarantee 100% 'Sterility'."
Dayong's face shifted into a "Panic State" immediately. "Why didn't you
broadcast this warning sooner?!"
"You didn't ask! You just kept bragging about how you secured a 'Great Deal'. I
assumed you'd already audited the risk variables!"
Dayong sat at his station for the entire morning, performing zero work. At noon,
he messaged Liu Min: [Manifest at home early tonight. We need to audit a
critical matter.]
Liu Min replied: [State the matter.]
Dayong thought for a bit, but didn't dare type it out. [We'll discuss once
you've arrived.]
☆☆☆
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