Little Pink Starfish

Players, in truth, didn’t really have any moral limits. To them, the people in front of them were just NPCs—non-player characters in a game—not real people.

Most players were still relatively mild, pestering terrified townsfolk over and over, trying to confirm whether any of them had a quest.

In most games, if an NPC said the same line repeatedly or had a fixed dialogue tree, it usually meant they were a basic character. But if their responses were unique or nuanced, that often indicated they were a special NPC—possibly one that triggered quests.

…And so, everyone discovered something: the NPCs in this game were strange. Every single one of them acted like a special NPC! Their reactions to conversation were nothing like your standard, scripted responses.

“Is there anything you need help with?”
“N-no, nothing…”
“Don’t worry! If there’s anything you need help with, just say it!”
The player had practically pressed his nose against the poor young man’s face.
“I… I really don’t…”
“It’s okay, I’m super capable. Just let me know if there’s anything I can help with.”
The young man: “…”

He had no idea what was wrong with this ragged-looking person. Why was he repeating the same line like a broken record? If the guy didn’t look so tall and intimidating, the youth would’ve run away long ago.

Even now, he was darting glances left and right, just waiting for a chance to escape. The moment he lifted his foot to bolt, the player grabbed his arm with a vice-like grip.

That terrifyingly friendly smile returned. “Need any help?”

The young man nearly cried. Desperate, he scanned the area—only to realize he wasn’t the only one being cornered like this. Racking his brains, he finally stammered, “T-Take this f-fish… t-to Bowler on the next street…”

The player jumped with excitement—A QUEST! He actually triggered a quest!

This wasn’t unique. All across Casey City, similar scenes were playing out. Locals, bewildered and scared, came up with random errands to get the players to go away.

Of course, not all of the locals were harmless. Casey City itself wasn’t a kind or orderly place—if it were, Pei Sen wouldn’t have been desperate enough to sneak into Golden Rose Manor for safety.

But the players didn’t know any of this. To them, it was all just a game.

That’s when Pei Sen saw something dramatic—someone, right in the middle of the street, punched a player square in the face.

This wasn’t some peace-loving, law-abiding city. In truth, Casey City leaned toward chaotic neutral. Its “law and order” was barely holding together.

Take Quir Wolves, for example—the group that once captured Pei Sen and nearly sold him. They were one of the more prominent factions in town. Human trafficking was their business.

Now, with a flood of players arriving—most of whom looked pretty decent—even without the face-sculpting feature enabled, the player base had adjusted their real-life appearance to be more attractive. In modern times, people were pretty decent-looking to begin with. Those who couldn’t be helped even with upward adjustments were rare.

So from a trafficking standpoint, it was a target-rich environment. It would’ve been weird if Quir Wolves hadn’t shown up.

Even so, adjusted looks had their limits. No matter how good you looked in real life, it still didn’t compare to Pei Sen’s in-game, delicately crafted, stunning beauty. Once the face customization feature went live, it would cause chaos—especially with all the failed attempts. But advanced customization? That would blow all adjusted real-life looks out of the water.

The guy who punched the player was one of Quir Wolves’ goons—nicknamed “Sharp Snake.” Hardly anyone remembered his real name.

He’d been lurking around, as usual, scouting for new “goods.” After watching for a while, he realized these newcomers didn’t know each other well. When one wandered over to talk to him, he punched him flat on the ground and called for his buddies to drag him off.

These guys weren’t exactly subtle. The city lord barely managed things around here, and the city guards had long been bought off. They wouldn’t intervene.

When Iger saw this happen, he sneered. Pei Sen remembered what Lady Mary had said—this was Iger’s territory.

“Those traffickers really are shameless, but this mess isn’t your fault, young master.”
Pei Sen tried to console Iger gently. After all, he was only fourteen. Seeing his territory in this state couldn’t feel good.

Iger shot him a cold look. “Casey City’s state has nothing to do with me.”

Pei Sen: “…” Alright then. That backfired.

But then something very strange happened.

Just as Sharp Snake was about to drag the player off, he felt every hair on his body stand on end. It was as if, in that instant, the entire street paused. The air seemed to freeze.

He looked up—and saw that every single one of those strange people had turned to stare directly at him.

Not in anger. Not in hostility.
But with an eerie, gleeful anticipation that made his skin crawl.

Dozens—nearly a hundred—people stared at him as if he were the best loot they’d ever seen.

When one of them screamed “QUEST!” and lunged at him, he instinctively pulled out his dagger, thinking he’d have to defend himself—but the person didn’t try to hurt him. They just grabbed his arm and wouldn’t let go.

Then, to his utter disbelief, another player picked up a sharpened wooden sword and stabbed the downed player to death. The others glanced over… and didn’t even react.

What kind of people were these?!

For the first time in a long while, Sharp Snake was genuinely scared. These people… seemed crazy.

Even Iger stood up from his seat atop the tower, clearly surprised.

“Young master! That corpse!”
Aken, the shadowy figure at his side, had appeared without a sound.

Iger nodded. “I saw it.”

Pei Sen let out a light laugh. “No need to be shocked. They’re Bixians.”

He’d known this would happen. Eventually, the entire Aery Continent would be shocked by the arrival of the Bixians.

“Bixians?”

Pei Sen looked at the player’s corpse that had turned into a skeleton within seconds, terrifying Sharp Snake into falling over. He explained:

“The Bixians are a race from deep within the Askin Mountains. There are many of them, and they don’t look much different from ordinary humans—but they have three distinct traits.”

Iger frowned. As a noble, he had broad knowledge of the world’s races. But this was the first time he’d heard of Bixians.

Pei Sen remained calm—it wasn’t some big secret. Sooner or later, everyone would know.

The Bixian race was an ingenious game setting to justify players’ unique mechanics—like immortality. Before level 10, players could die without consequences. After level 10, they’d lose EXP and receive a temporary debuff.

It was hard to rationalize this in lore, but the game’s system managed to convince everyone that Bixians were a real and bizarre race.

“First: when Bixians die, they rapidly turn into skeletons. A few hours later, the bones turn to ash and vanish.”

This, Pei Sen figured, was to distinguish them from demons—who turned to ash immediately. Having a skeleton stage made Bixians feel less demonic.

“Second: when a Bixian dies, their siblings inherit their appearance, memories, and everything else—until the entire lineage is wiped out.”
“Third: Bixians have the natural ability to traverse space. While not at will, if they’ve arrived in Casey City, it means they managed to cross all the way from the Askin Mountains.”

Iger frowned even deeper. This race was… seriously weird.

“It’s not that surprising,” Pei Sen chuckled. “Beyond the Great Wall, there are strong beastmen. In the deep forests, proud elves. In the underground, hideous dwarves. And on the edges of the ice plains, some say there are still giants. Compared to them, Bixians might be odd, but at least they look human.”

Iger looked at him. “You know quite a lot.”

In truth, outside the human-dominated regions, it was rare to see other races. Humans had pushed them to the margins of survival. In the past, nobles kept beastmen and elves as pets—but now, that was almost unheard of.

Pei Sen didn’t know the exact reason why, only that human kingdoms in the center of the continent disliked the presence of other races.

Iger smirked sarcastically. He knew. In several countries, hybrid children had once been doted on so much that they nearly took the throne. After that, kings and nobles alike banned keeping beastmen and elves as property.

Still, Pei Sen was right—compared to other races, the Bixians, while strange, weren’t too outlandish.

But Sharp Snake didn’t see it that way.

Most commoners didn’t even believe other races existed. They thought they were legends. And now, seeing these obviously unnatural beings had terrified him.

He watched someone get killed, saw the corpse turn to bones, and panicked—trying desperately to flee.

But the players surged around him, completely cutting off escape.

“S-someone help me!” he screamed, looking to his allies.

But they were already running—scared out of their minds.

Sharp Snake didn’t dare raise his head. He could feel all those excited, gleaming eyes fixed on him. The fear made him tremble. For someone who’d trafficked humans for years and thought himself fearless, this was a nightmare.

What were these people? Why were they so freakish?!

The players, naturally, were thrilled.

“Damn, this game is way too real. Are these NPCs being played by actual people? Why are their reactions so detailed?”
“Even if they’re actors, they deserve an Oscar.”

“Don’t be scared,” one player said gently. “What were you planning to do with the guy you knocked out? Pick me instead. You can knock me out.”

Sharp Snake: “???”

The magical eye couldn’t record sound, so Pei Sen and Iger could only watch the visual feed. But Pei Sen could already guess what was being said.

Seeing the dumbfounded expressions of Iger’s servants, he was barely holding in his laughter.

Frankly, the native inhabitants of this world couldn’t possibly understand the logic behind player behavior.

Just then, a furious player sprinted back into the city from outside.

Because players could only respawn at specific points, he’d had to revive, then run all the way back—yelling as he went:

“RedSpicyChips! You bastard! You stole my quest!”

Yep. It was the poor guy Sharp Snake knocked out—who’d then been killed by another player trying to snatch the quest.