Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended [Part Two]

CHAPTER 223: Viktor Vauclain

GASSSP!

Silvestia jerked forward and inhaled as though she had just been resuscitated. Her chest heaved, her body trembling. The shadows, the suffocating grip, the venom burning through her veins—it all still clung to her like an icy shroud.

"Silvie!"

The familiar voice shattered the last remnants of her nightmare. She blinked, her vision clearing to find Fay beaming at her with excitement.

"It looks like you've got a bite!" she said, scrambling to her feet, eyes locked onto the fishing pool.

Silvestia hesitated, the residual fear still coiled in her gut, but as her gaze followed Fay's, her lips twitched into a nervous smile. The line was taut, vibrating with force as something beneath the surface fought desperately to break free.

"Right," she muttered, forcing herself to focus.

Planting her feet, Silvestia braced herself and pulled back with all her strength. The rod bent under the tension, the fish thrashing wildly in defiance. Fay quickly abandoned her own rod and rushed over to help.

"Hold on tight!" she grinned, wrapping her hands around the pole just beneath her sister's. "This one's a fighter!"

"You're telling me," Silvestia huffed, adjusting her grip as the struggle intensified.

The line swished wildly, carving arcs in the air. Then, with a powerful yank, a massive catfish burst from the water, twisting and flailing, droplets of water catching the sunlight like scattered gemstones.

"Whoa!" Fay gasped. "It's huge!"

Silvestia could only nod, eyes wide in amazement. The fish landed with a splash, submerging for another desperate attempt at freedom.

"Not today, you don't!" Fay laughed, tugging harder.

Silvestia gritted her teeth, the muscles in her arms burning as they worked together, inch by inch, to reel in their prize. Finally, after one last furious struggle, the fish exhausted itself. They dragged it onto the bank where it flopped weakly before finally surrendering.

"We did it!" Fay cheered, as did her cowlick.

Silvestia let out a breathless laugh, wiping her forehead. "Now," she said, grinning down at the catfish, "we just need one more ingredient and we can finally cook that recipe."

***

In the western reaches of the city outside a familiar brothel, the air buzzed with anticipation. Lanterns cast a warm glow on the silk-draped entrance, the scent of perfume and incense blending into a sweet, intoxicating haze.

A group of elegantly dressed hostesses gathered near the entrance, their silk garbs shifting with the afternoon breeze as they giggled and whispered among themselves.

"If only a rich man would waltz in and offer to buy my freedom," one of the women sighed, resting her cheek against her palm, eyes glimmering with fantasy.

"Would you really be content with serving just one man forever?" another questioned, fanning herself lazily.

"As long as he can perform well," a third chimed in with a smirk, earning a round of hushed laughter.

"Does it really matter?" another woman argued, her voice wistful. "If it means being free, I wouldn't care."

"But can you even call it freedom if you're still owned by someone?" a skeptical voice countered.

"Even if it's not true freedom," a fifth woman mused while gazing out at the cobblestone street, "...just a change of scenery would be nice."

Just then, a shadow cut across the lantern light and the conversation came to an abrupt halt.