The Predator in Wait and the Miscalculation of the “Pitiable”

Xue Zhen watched 886’s fake sobbing with a look of cold detachment.

Most systems were ready for work the moment their full data was injected; it was no wonder 886 had remained unassigned for ten days after its “birth.” No experienced task-taker wanted a rookie this green.

However, Xue Zhen’s lips curled slightly as he recalled the events of the previous world—how 886 had impulsively bound itself to him in a moment of panic.

Perhaps, he thought, I’m the more absurd one for letting it happen.

“What are you crying for?” Xue Zhen snapped internally. “The drink was fine. It was the fruit.”

He explained to the trembling system: “The fruit was marinated in high-proof alcohol. Eat enough of it and you’ll get drunk just the same.”

Looking at the digital tears simulated by 886’s data, Xue Zhen added ruthlessly, “You should clear out your database; it’s getting cluttered with nonsense.”

886’s pixelated tears vanished instantly. “Inky-winky…”

The Night Banquet spared no expense in hiring top-tier chefs. The marinated fruit tasted exquisite, with the alcohol flavor cleverly masked, making it easy for first-timers to fall into the trap.

Xue Zhen, of course, had never been here. But in his experience, every world followed a similar pattern. To avoid “accidents,” one had to remain vigilant about anything that entered the mouth.

Xue Zhen had a very clear understanding of his own low alcohol tolerance. He had only sipped a little juice and picked at a few pieces of fruit, staying on high alert. He had already snubbed Tang Zhan’s friends once; a second rejection would have invited unnecessary trouble.

Even though he enjoyed seeing others frustrated, this entire outing was unpleasant. It made him miss his days playing the pure villain. Back then, he never had to worry about whether to reject someone; he was always the one making life difficult for others.

Turning his head to see 886 still emitting “light pollution,” Xue Zhen grew even more irritated.

“886,” Xue Zhen pondered for a moment. “Can you change your appearance?”

886 hovered in mid-air. “Of course!”

In the blink of an eye, 886 cycled through several appearances that were highly popular among systems. Word in the System Space was that task-takers loved cute appearances, especially small animals.

A system 886 had chatted with a few times once claimed confidently: “My task-taker loves fluffy things! Every time I make a mistake, I turn into a puppy, and she can’t bring herself to scold me!” (Side note: that system had chosen the form of a Beagle).

With full confidence, 886 transformed into a Beagle. Since its host appeared to be of ancient Earth descent, he would surely love this!

886 waited and waited, but all it received was its host’s silence. Confused, it rubbed its large head against Xue Zhen’s calf and let out a tentative, “Woof?”

A Beagle’s coquetry.

Xue Zhen knelt down and pinched 886’s long, floppy ears. “Forget it,” he said, standing back up. “I don’t want to endure this… change into a bird. A small white bird.”

Failing to catch the sarcasm in his tone, 886 regretfully shifted into a snowy, round, and plump little Shima Enaga—a “Long-tailed Tit.”

The round little bird flapped its wings vigorously. Xue Zhen reached out and stroked it. “This looks a bit like a bird I kept in a previous mission world.”

886 grew excited again. “Really, Host?” It flapped its fluffy wings and landed affectionately on Xue Zhen’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Xue Zhen said as he walked toward the final corner following 886’s prompts. “That world was a Western Fantasy continent. I kept a white eagle.”

886 peeked at its host with its black-bean eyes.

Xue Zhen glanced at it, drifting into memory. “It was different from you, of course. It was an eagle…”

At that time, Xue Zhen was playing a villainous aristocratic mage. By chance, deep in a dense forest, he had picked up an injured fledgling. The bird was entirely white, save for a few black streaks on its crest and primary feathers. It looked like the eagles Xue Zhen remembered.

Western Fantasy worlds were tricky; magical beasts were diverse, and new species were born constantly. Even the native mages Xue Zhen consulted couldn’t identify what kind of beast it was.

Xue Zhen decided to call it ‘Xiao Bai.’

Xiao Bai was anything but friendly. It had a massive temper and would only eat food fed directly by Xue Zhen’s hand. Years later, it grew into a giant eagle with a wingspan of over a meter. When Xue Zhen rode out on horseback, Xiao Bai would circle majestically in the sky, occasionally letting out a low, intimidating screech.

“It was very prone to anger,” Xue Zhen recalled. “And it absolutely hated other magical beasts. If it saw one, it would drive it away immediately.”

Even when it grew into a massive predator, it insisted on sleeping curled up in the small nest Xue Zhen had kept in his room.

886 hopped back and forth on Xue Zhen’s shoulder. “And then? What happened then?” It was desperate to know the details of his previous pet-owning experience, hoping to bond with him just as quickly.

“And then there was no ‘then,'” Xue Zhen smiled faintly. “When the mission was over and it was time to log out, there was no one to look after Xiao Bai, so I entrusted it to a local.”

He had gone offline early in that world. He felt a brief pang for Xiao Bai; he didn’t know if the local treated it well or if it ever fixed its picky eating habits.

886 let out a series of “cheep-cheep-cheeps,” its bean-like eyes filling with sorrow.

Does changing form affect intelligence? Xue Zhen stared at the bouncing bird on his shoulder and wondered. Judging by 886’s reaction, it seemingly did. He wondered if 886 changed into something else, would it perhaps compensate for its embarrassing lack of IQ?

Thinking the host was sad about his old pet, 886 tried to change the subject. “Host, what did you two usually do together?” It was ready to take notes.

What did we do?

Xue Zhen chuckled, straightening the sleeves of his shirt. “I would make things difficult for the protagonist, and Xiao Bai would show off its might beside me. I would steal the protagonist’s things, and Xiao Bai would snatch them for me. I would speak ill of the protagonist, and Xiao Bai would flap its wings in agreement…”

As he spoke, he turned a corner. The lights on either side of the long corridor were dim, casting flickering shadows. He heard the sound of a bottle shattering followed by a muffled argument.

Suddenly, there was a loud splash.

Xue Zhen didn’t have time to dodge. He was splashed head-on with a spray of wine.

“Just like this,” Xue Zhen said calmly, staring at the dark stain spreading across the hem of his white shirt.

The corner fell deathly silent.

A waiter in his early twenties, dressed in a floor manager’s uniform, stammered an instinctive apology: “Guest, I am so sorry…”

The other man was much taller, with a superior aura and a silhouette as sharp as if carved by a chisel. He held a tray in his hand. His frame looked strangely familiar.

When Xue Zhen looked up, he realized he had taken a wrong turn; this wasn’t the way to the restroom 886 had pointed out. And…

Xue Zhen locked eyes with the two men. It seemed he had stumbled into another “scene.”

886: “Uh-oh.” “Host,” the little bird pecked at the hem of Xue Zhen’s shirt. “What do we do now?”

“What do we do?” Xue Zhen said expressionlessly. “I’m planning to hold a grand funeral.”

As it turned out, the person who caused the trouble reacted more strongly than the bystander. After the manager apologized to Xue Zhen, he immediately began berating the silent waiter beside him.

“How do you hold a tray?!” the manager roared, gauging Xue Zhen’s reaction. “You can’t even keep a glass steady! You’ve offended the guest!”

To work here, the manager’s looks were decent, but he seemed to be wearing too much powder. His face was slick, and as he grew agitated, it flushed into an ugly shade of liver-purple.

In contrast, the young waiter being scolded was tall with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Even the most basic white shirt and black trousers looked crisp and tailored on him. Xue Zhen couldn’t see the man’s face clearly, but judging by his sharp profile, he was likely handsome.

“Here’s the question,” Xue Zhen muttered, as if talking to 886. “Who was the one who actually moved their hand?”

886 whispered cautiously, “The one getting scolded?”

Xue Zhen looked at his clearly unintelligent system. “Regrettably, I don’t think so.”

886 quickly corrected itself: “Then it was the other one!” The bird puffed out its chest, looking proud. Xue Zhen patted it absently. “Yes, correct.”

While Xue Zhen was chatting with 886, the two men couldn’t hear them. The manager, becoming fearful, lowered his voice as he continued his performative scolding. How had he managed to run into a guest while he was busy picking on a newcomer?

The manager felt his luck was turning sour. He was only picking on this rookie because the newcomer had gained the manager’s attention with his good looks, even threatening his own position.

In a place like this, the biggest taboo was a colleague stealing one’s spotlight. What enraged the manager most was that this newcomer didn’t know the “rules” and refused to give him a cut of his tips.

The newcomer was arrogant, rarely spoke, and looked at people with cold, icy eyes—completely disregarding the manager. With old and new grudges combined, the manager had cornered him during a shift change to teach him a lesson. The other man had ignored him as if he were air. In a fit of rage, the manager had grabbed at the tray, causing the spill. He hadn’t expected a guest to be right there…

The manager looked at the silent rookie, then at the expressionless guest. He didn’t recognize Xue Zhen; judging by his age, he guessed it was the boy’s first time here.

But Xue Zhen was beautiful and carried himself with an arrogant grace. He looked like a child pampered by a wealthy family—not someone from an ordinary background. Having worked at The Night Banquet for a long time, the manager knew that some people could make him lose his high-paying job with a single sentence. He didn’t dare be careless.

Since the guest wasn’t speaking, he had no choice but to keep berating the rookie, his words becoming increasingly foul.

“That’s enough.”

Just as the manager began to break into a cold sweat, the guest finally spoke.

The beautiful, black-haired youth frowned, his voice sounding lazy. “Stop being so noisy.”

He was indeed pampered; his voice dripped with casual disdain. Yet, because he was so handsome, the way he tilted his chin slightly made him look like a precious cat that wouldn’t give a human the time of day.

The manager shut his mouth. After a moment, he couldn’t help himself: “Guest, I’m sorry, he’s a newcomer…”

“I told you to shut up.”

Xue Zhen hadn’t been looking at him, so he was forced to turn his head. “Don’t you understand me? You’re very loud.”

The manager’s lips quivered, and he went silent.

The youth’s eyes were very dark, like polished obsidian or pearls soaked in spring water—bright and shimmering. But he was unhappy now; his nose was slightly wrinkled, and his gaze was full of displeasure.

He looks like a ill-tempered cat, the silent waiter thought. Staring straight at you, full of bad intentions.

The waiter had experienced plenty of inexplicable malice. He expected a round of humiliation. He was used to it. He just didn’t know what this seemingly wicked young master planned to do.

“You, leave,” the youth said. “Go far away. I don’t want to see you.”

The manager, surprisingly relieved—perhaps thinking Xue Zhen wanted to handle the rookie himself—scurried away. Only the two of them remained in the corner.

The waiter stared at the carpet. Just as he expected the youth to do something, he heard a haughty voice: “You. Take me to the restroom.”

The restroom…?

That’s it? The waiter was suspicious. Was he going to find water to throw on him? He looked at the youth’s slender shoulders and thin wrists, wondering if this young master even knew how to “punish” someone himself.

“Hey,” Xue Zhen said, growing more annoyed at the lack of response. “Are you deaf or just unable to speak?”

“Neither.” The tall waiter spoke. His voice was the deep, raspy tone of a young man in his late teens. “This way.”

He began to lead the way.

Finally, a reaction. Xue Zhen complained to 886: “I thought he was a mute.”

886 chimed in: “Me too, me too!”

“Forget it,” Xue Zhen said, slightly tired of 886 acting like a parrot. “You should learn from him. Silence is golden.”

886: (QAQ) Host…

The waiter was familiar with the layout and brought Xue Zhen to the restroom in short order.

“Alright,” Xue Zhen said, absolutely refusing to admit to 886 that he hadn’t been able to find the way himself. “You can go too.”

But the waiter stood still.

Xue Zhen: ?

The waiter was very tall, at least 185cm, towering over Xue Zhen. He had a large frame, and though he had the lean muscle of a youth, his presence was powerful. Yet, he kept his head down, hiding his face like a mushroom growing in a dark corner.

“What is it?” Xue Zhen asked. He used a professional technique to induce vomiting and clear his stomach of what he had eaten.

After washing his hands, he saw the waiter was still there. “Something else?”

The waiter shook his head. “My apologies for your shirt,” he said, pointing to a cabinet under the sink. “There are cleaning supplies in there. Do you want to treat the stain?”

Before Xue Zhen could respond, he continued: “The manager keeps them here. They can remove wine stains, and there’s a dryer.”

The manager had stocked them in case guests got rowdy and a waiter got caught in the crossfire.

“No,” Xue Zhen said, shaking his head. “I’m leaving soon anyway.”

He had only come here to purge the alcohol; he hadn’t expected this much trouble. And…

Xue Zhen pulled out his phone and took a photo of the stain on his shirt.

Message sent.

He pressed the voice message button: “Big Brother, are you still awake?”

Tang Zhan replied quickly: “?”

Xue Zhen continued: “My clothes got ruined before I even made it out.”

Tang Zhan: “? What are you trying to say?”

Xue Zhen felt the man likely understood his meaning. Satisfied, he picked an emoji and sent it over.

“Brother, food, hungry.” It was an emoji of a cat holding a broken bowl.

Tang Zhan: “…” The waiter who heard the whole thing: “…”

Xue Zhen smiled. If he couldn’t get a stranger to compensate him for the clothes, surely he could get the villain NPC by his side to pay up.