Chapter 14: I am Growing, Bigger and Bigger, Bigger and Bigger…

Chapter 14: I Am Growing, Bigger and Bigger, Bigger and Bigger...

Luo Shengle gathered her essentials, clipped her name badge to her chest, and stepped out of her room, ready for another day of "work."

Today, the atmosphere in the Whalebone Aquarium seemed unusually oppressive.

Every hurried staff member bore expressions of heavy, almost palpable gloom on their faces, making the air feel thick.

Without needing to ask, Luo Shengle quickly understood the reason for the Aquarium's abnormality—she stopped in the spacious, brightly lit lobby and gaped at the view outside in shock.

Beyond the entrance, where there should have been a road, was now nothing but open ocean. The edge of the land bore a jagged, unnatural break, as if ripped away by some colossal force.

And this Aquarium stood atop this fragment of land, drifting along the ocean currents.

Luo Shengle stood rooted to the spot for a long time, completely dumbfounded.

Though the boundless seascape, rolling waves, and seabirds circling the clear sky were beautiful... since when did Aquariums belong in the middle of the ocean?!

How did we go from "Nightmare at the Aquarium" to "Robinson Crusoe" overnight?!

Faced with such absurdity, Luo Shengle was beyond complaining. A strange metaphor surfaced in her mind: the entire Aquarium was like a turtle carrying its shell on a long journey, recklessly drifting into unfamiliar waters.

Its desperate haste suggested... something terrifying was chasing it.

"This... this must be part of the Dungeon’s rules," Luo Shengle murmured, recalling the bizarre dreams of the previous night and the world-shaking disturbance before they shattered. She wasn’t entirely sure: "It couldn’t have been caused by Mr. Narrator, right...?"

The "Narrator," Yi Fengchu, caught her muttering and drifted into thought as well.

It shouldn’t be him...

It couldn’t possibly be his doing, right?

Glancing at the tentacle on the table, Yi Fengchu also felt uncertain, a creeping sense of unease settling in.

So... that dream fish from his dream last night—could it actually exist, even within this Dungeon?

He vaguely remembered that the fish had tasted quite good, fresh with a firm texture. Could this tentacle really be something he’d bitten off while sleepwalking?

Yi Fengchu shuddered at the thought. Though he was hungry now, that didn’t mean he wanted to eat some tentacled, multi-eyed abomination!

He chugged several gulps of water, the cool liquid soothing his nerves. Calming down, he mused, "Only living creatures know fear. Only they know to flee."

"Viewed this way, the Aquarium seems alive. But according to the guide’s introduction, it was a man-made structure—even its predecessor was just a wealthy seafarer's private museum. What could have given it life?"

Yi Fengchu quickly listed several possibilities—the location of its construction, the materials used, an object inside the Aquarium, or some ritual or mysterious event that had occurred over the past century, turning it into this "anomaly."

After a moment of contemplation, he typed a line on his phone, causing silver, typeset text to appear on the glass door in front of Luo Shengle:

"You may have overlooked one question."

["Whalebone Aquarium"—where did the whalebone end up?]

This was Yi Fengchu’s carefully chosen suspicion—he believed the legendary "whalebone" in the Aquarium’s history might be the issue.

Even if his guess was wrong, he was certain that the system had named the Dungeon "Whalebone Aquarium" for a reason. A reminder like this wouldn’t hurt and wouldn’t arouse Luo Shengle’s suspicion about the Narrator’s identity.

"Thank you for the reminder."

Luo Shengle treated every piece of information from the Narrator with caution, adding it to her mental checklist. "I’ll find a way to investigate this today."

Wait... why did she feel like she was some NPC controlled by the Narrator, or a tamagotchi on a quest?

She wryly thought to herself, then turned and walked deeper into the Aquarium before being caught idling again.

With the Aquarium now an isolated island, there would naturally be no more streams of visitors. The halls were unnaturally deserted today, yet all the staff remained at their posts, mechanically performing their duties.

The fish caretakers were as busy as ever, but most unsettling to Luo Shengle were the employees in Hall A, who usually handled guest services. Despite the absence of visitors, they maintained plastic smiles, nodding at empty space at intervals...

As if they were still serving invisible guests.

The tour guide was no different. The canned Aquarium spiel played through the speakers, the enthusiastic voice echoing through the empty halls, answered only by hollow echoes.

Yet the guide tirelessly repeated the speech, over and over.

At this moment, Yi Fengchu and Luo Shengle—separated by distance—shared the same thought: these employees were like pre-programmed automatons, going through scripted motions.

As Luo Shengle passed the tour guide, she meant to walk right past but suddenly slowed, her eyes caught on something.

Her eyes fixed on the guide’s collar, and she froze.

She had spotted the same unknown script from her dreams the night before!

Dark crimson, squirming script curled along the guide’s collar like a desiccated worm, lurking unnoticed in an overlooked spot.

Just like in her dream, the unknown script flowed naturally into Luo Shengle’s vision:

"I waited so long, but Mother never returned."

"Ma’am," the tour guide slowly turned, pasting on a friendly smile, "is there something you’re looking at?"

Luo Shengle studied the guide’s smile, a chill running down her spine—especially those unnaturally dilated pupils, like a dead fish's bulging eyes.

But she kept her composure. "Your collar isn’t properly adjusted."

Pausing, she adopted a stern expression and added with mock severity, "As a tour guide, you represent our Aquarium’s image. You must pay attention to your appearance. Be more careful next time."

"Ah? Oh," the guide immediately shifted focus, fussing with their collar. "Thank you. I’ll be more careful."

Seizing the moment, Luo Shengle slipped away like a shadow, swiftly continuing down the hall.

As she walked, she deliberately scanned the Aquarium’s corners, gradually collecting more fragmented messages:

"Waiting and waiting, I think I grew up."

—This one seemed normal. What child doesn’t grow up? Luo Shengle mused idly.

"I am growing, bigger and bigger, bigger and bigger..."

—Wait, was it necessary to repeat this? Wasn’t growth just a natural phase?

Frowning, Luo Shengle felt a prickle of dread and searched for the next clue.

"By the trillionth sunrise, I... (scratched out)"

"I died. I began to rot, but death was far from my end."

"Just as I promised Mother, I would wait here forever..."

"...Until the day they found me."