Fang Ning writes first
The stairwell light flickers. Halfway up, your neighbor is mopping the steps in perfect, mechanical strokes at two in the morning. He stops, straightens, and gives you a slow, ice-cold once-over that makes you check whether you’ve stepped in something.
Inside his skull, Fang Ning is screaming.
‘Don’t look at them like that! They’re a neighbor! Sir System, I’m begging you, let me say hi like a normal person!’
[An NPC has entered conversation range. Please choose a reply.]
[1: You lean on the mop and smile devilishly, “Lost, are we?”]
[2: You coldly say, “Mind your step. It’s wet.”]
[3: You turn away and resume mopping without a word.]
‘Two. Two! It’s the least insane one!’
“Mind your step,” his mouth says, in a deep, magnetic voice he definitely didn’t have last week. “It’s wet.”
He goes back to mopping. Then, very slowly, the mop stops, as if someone trapped inside is straining with everything he has.
[The Host has provided relevant input. The System is processing…]
“...Did you need something?”
