Mist Town, the worn-out entrance of the inn displayed a sign reading "Youlin Rest," with a lobby so deserted that only the napping owner at the counter and invisible ghosts kept company... if the ghosts were willing to come here, that is.

Despite its seemingly desolate condition, it was actually one of the better accommodations in town.

The waiter, carrying a tray, stepped on the moldy wooden floor, stopping at the door of a room at the end of the corridor, cautiously knocking on the dilapidated door.

"Your dinner, sir."

A strange guest was residing in this room.

He had arrived here a month ago, tossing a bunch of Demon Crystals on the counter as payment for his stay, then took the keys and went to a corner room. He had never come out since.

Although he had never ordered dinner, the innkeeper had assumed he would need to eat to avoid starving to death in his own inn, and thus meals were sent up every night.

This allowed the inn to earn a bit more from his account while checking if he was still alive, to prevent the discovery of a decaying body.

Unlike those towns with lords, Mist Town was an enclave of the Ryan Kingdom located in the underworld, primarily run by the Adventurer Guild. It afforded conveniences to adventurers heading deeper into the labyrinth and monitored the activities of monsters within it.

Since it was beyond the reach of the law, in addition to adventurers, occasionally those who couldn't survive aboveground took refuge here.

The waitstaff and chefs at "Youlin Rest" often gossiped about the peculiar guest.

Some said he was deep in debt, others claimed he had offended someone he shouldn't have.

Some even speculated he was a wanted fugitive.

But regardless, this was Mist Town, not a lord's domain.

As long as someone was paying, they would provide the corresponding services and turn a deaf ear to anything else.

Even if the payment wasn't money but Demon Crystals or other valuable metals convertible to cash.

There was no sound from behind the door for a long time.

Just as the waiter at the door wondered if the guy might be dead, a hoarse voice suddenly came through the gap.

"Leave it at the door."

"Alright, alright..." the waiter snapped to his senses and immediately set the tray down at the door.

In this place, eccentric travelers were not uncommon.

Following the principle of less trouble, he preferred not to meddle.

However, out of kindness, he still gave a gentle reminder.

"By the way, sir, your room fee is almost used up... If you wish to continue staying, it would be best to book within three days. Of course, this is just a suggestion..."

The room remained silent for a while, with no response.

Just as the waiter was about to leave, the raspy voice came from inside the room.

"Understood."

The voice was filled with impatience, as if making some kind of decision.

Not daring to linger here any longer, the waiter hastened away from the corridor.

Inside the room.

Disheveled Miranda glanced at her watch, took a deep breath of murky air, walked to the door to drag the tray inside, and without a second glance dumped it all into a garbage bag.

Though it was a shame, she had no other choice.

Theoretically, anyone who had come into direct or indirect contact with her could potentially be an apostle of the Deceitful Fog, directly or indirectly involved in its unspeakable conspiracy.

To avoid becoming a victim of the indescribable conspiracy, she had to travel far away to this town, isolated from the outside world, and minimize contact with others as much as possible.

But as things stood, she was barely holding on...

That otherworldly voice drifted to her ears again, with a tone tinged with regret.

"That piece of bread smeared with butter looked really tasty... won't you try a bite?"

Miranda did not respond, simply taking dried food from her suitcase, taking a bite, then staring at the corner table's mirror with swollen eyes, her voice hoarse.

"It's time we put an end to this."

Putting an end meant ending her own life.

When the soul is completely freed from the body, the mark etched deep into her soul would disappear along with her spirit returning to the bosom of its master.

Any conspiracy tied to this anchor would vanish into thin air.

Even the Deceitful Fog Nuoville could not counteract this ancient truth.

Though the souls of those who die in the labyrinth are consumed by the labyrinth itself instead of returning to the divine embrace, the outcome is the same.

Trading sacrifice for ultimate victory was the only thing she could do after trying all other means.

Perhaps sensing her resolve, the mirror on the table suddenly rippled with eerie waves.

Thick fog filled the mirrored room, hiding everything it could.

Including Miranda herself.

A light laugh emerged from the void, and omnipresent eyes seemed to be watching a foolish ant.

"Do you think you can escape me this way?"

"Enough with the bravado," Miranda firmly stared at the mirror, her hand already gripping the dinner knife.

For a moment, she too was uncertain, whether it was the ever-changing fog or herself shrouded in that fog, that was bluffing.

The invisible eyes continued to watch her, whispering in a deliberate tone.

"I'm not bluffing, just think... it's a pity."

"A pity?"

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