The estate’s main sitting room was warmer than it had any right to be.
Auntie Wang brought in a tray—black tea, a plate of small pastries, and a bowl of candied fruit that looked like it belonged in another century. She set everything down with quiet efficiency, offered Ethan a polite smile, and slipped out without asking questions.
The door clicked shut.
For a moment, only the fire spoke.
Yanyan let out a long breath and sank into a chair opposite Ethan.
“You’re way less… scary than I imagined,” she said.
Ethan raised a brow. “That’s supposed to be a compliment?”
“It is.” She waved a hand. “When I first saw the number 0067, I pictured a two-meter-tall brute with a beard, carrying an axe and shouting about conquest.”
Ethan snorted. “And I pictured you as a high school kid who’d somehow gotten into the wrong game.”
Yanyan stared at him. “Excuse me?”
“You sounded young in messages,” Ethan said, deadpan.
She threw a pastry at him. He caught it reflexively.
“Still got quick hands,” she said with a grudging smile. “Campus legend. Upperclassman Ethan.”
“Don’t call me that,” Ethan groaned. “We’re not back in school.”
Yanyan’s smile widened, and just like that, the awkward distance between them cracked.
They talked. Not about politics first. Not about Nightmare. Not even about the Endless Sea.
Small things—where she’d been hiding, which cities she’d passed through, how she’d managed to keep Warner industries from being swallowed whole. How Amm showed up like a debt collector from the heavens and refused to leave until she took his warnings seriously.
The more they spoke, the more Ethan felt something settle in his chest.
This wasn’t an NPC ally. This wasn’t a convenient patron’s daughter.
This was someone who’d crawled through the same nightmare he had—just on a different route.
Eventually, Yanyan leaned forward, elbows on knees.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ve been meaning to ask since forever.”
Ethan waited.
“Back in the player world,” she said, “when you first contacted me—when you warned me—why were you so cautious? You kept saying, ‘Don’t talk about certain things. Don’t say certain names.’ You sounded like you’d already been burned.”
Ethan’s expression cooled.
“Greedy Wolf,” he said.
Yanyan blinked. “That’s… that telepath, right?”
“Yeah.” Ethan nodded once. “He can eavesdrop. Not always, not everywhere, but enough. If you treat every thought like a broadcast, he’ll pick it up.”
Yanyan stared at the fire, processing. “So that’s why New Star kept getting leaks.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
Yanyan sat back, face serious now.
“Since my father got dragged in, I’ve had to talk to too many people,” she said. “Royal intermediaries, investigators, ‘friends’ who suddenly remembered we existed. And a weird pattern kept showing up.”
She tapped the rim of her teacup, once, twice.
“Every time someone ‘mysteriously’ knew something they shouldn’t,” she continued, “I’d later find out they’d touched Nightmare Coins.”
Ethan felt the room tighten.
“You’re sure?”
“As sure as I can be without putting a knife in the hypothesis,” Yanyan said. “The ones who never touched the coins? They were normal. The ones who did… things leaked. Secrets slipped. Fear spiked. Like something was tugging at them from inside.”
Ethan’s mind flashed to Amm’s words.
The infected become its eyes.
Yanyan’s voice lowered. “So yeah. I think Nightmare isn’t just spreading fear with those coins. It’s using them as hooks.”
Ethan held her gaze. “That changes the whole board.”
“It gets worse.” Yanyan’s fingers tightened around her cup. “I got news from a royal intermediary this morning.”
Ethan didn’t interrupt.
“The Crown Prince,” she said, each word clipped, controlled, “is the one framing my father.”
Ethan’s jaw set. “So it really was a setup.”
Yanyan nodded. “He wants Warner’s industries. All of them. And he’s willing to destroy my entire family name to take it.”
She took a breath, then spoke the next line like it tasted bitter.
“He sent a message: if I hand over the factories, he’ll ‘let my father go.’ Clean release. No more accusations. No more pressure.”
Ethan leaned forward. “And you believe him?”
Yanyan let out a humorless laugh. “Of course not. But I believe he’s desperate enough to try.”
The fire popped.
Outside, the estate was quiet. Inside, the air felt thin.
Yanyan looked at Ethan, eyes sharp again.
“So,” she said, “what’s your plan?”
Ethan didn’t answer immediately.
Because whatever he said next would decide whether they fought Nightmare on their terms… or on the Crown Prince’s.
And either way, the factories were the fuse.
“What are you thinking?” Yanyan asked again, voice steadier this time.
Ethan met her gaze.
“What do you want to do?” he asked.