The moonlight peeked into the shack, and silence permeated the slumber.

Faint whispers followed the moonlight over the branches, turning into snoring one after another. Thin, broken clouds drifted through the sparse starlight, shadows looming over the camp in front of the gold mines. Chilling shadows crept through the camp, and the snoring faded all around.

Crunch –

The old bed board made a noise as it turned over, and the resentful fluorescence flickered under the dark bed.

An illusory silhouette like a veil rose from under the bed, lingering around the two sleeping figures. And when the cold undead was about to touch its hateful and jealous creatures, the moonlight poured through the cracks into the shack, illuminating the shoes hanging by the bedside and the papyrus glued to the soles.

The corners of the illusory outline lifted the papyrus, and a few words were blurred in the moonlight:

[To...... The cutest undead ...... Welcome...... Wish...... Again]

The veil-like phantom lingered a few times around the sleeping silhouette, rolling a strip of paper out of the shed.

The papyrus was blocked by the wooden door, and it floated slowly, and was grabbed by the illusory veil that had been drilled back, and ripped out of the crack in the door.

The silent camp drilled out three curtains, and in the moonlight they fluttered, swirled, gathered, and drilled into the unknown depths of the gold mine.

Thick darkness filled, shadows and squirming sounded, and evil and terrifying plots echoed, turning into treacherous smirks from time to time.

At some point, a silhouette lifted papyrus, snatched by its companions, shredded, and interrogated.

After a long time, the place returned to darkness and silence.

……

Sunlight is the best medicine for those who are sleeping.

Annan was first woken up by a commotion coming from outside the shed, and then by the slamming of the wooden door.

Putting on his sackcloth coat, Annan moved the latch and opened the door.

There was a clear chaotic noise, and old Zorren's nervous old face relaxed when he saw Annan, and then Annan woke up Martin and told them what had happened last night.

All the miners living in the camp claimed they had terrible nightmares, and the mage apprentice said they had suffered a curse from the undead, but were all right.

The miners didn't believe it, and a mage apprentice who didn't know how to spell and didn't have magical items apparently couldn't contain the chaos, and now the outside was wrapped up in chaos fleeing the camp, begging for pay, and shouting for food.

"Why are you all right?"

Annan was unusual, Martin was sleepy-eyed, and they seemed unaffected.

Annan, who realized something, looked at the door panel, and the note glued to it was gone,

Looks like my message worked. Annan thought excitedly.

This not only means that they survived, but also means that Annan has achieved the achievement of communicating with other human beings for the first time.

Equally excited was old Zoren, who he believed was the favor of Lady Luck - all the miners were cursed by the undead, and only they were all right.

Annan grabbed Martin, who was about to say yes. While ghosts can communicate, it doesn't seem worth the risk for 30 copper coins......

"40 copper coins per person, if you find an ore, you can also share a penny!"

"I promised." Annan was afraid that old Zoren would return.

Old Zorren, who was lame like a windmill, hurried to prepare breakfast.

"Annan, you are amazing!" After complimenting, Martin squirmed, "Can we tell my family that we only get 30 copper coins......"

Annan thought of Martin's salary to be paid to Aunt Susan, thought that he could barely tip in the tavern, and thought that firewood was always the lowest price, so he agreed.

While waiting for old Zollen to bring food, Annan swept through the noisy camp and found the half-minotaur sitting at the edge of the woods holding a thin plank.

The broken morning sun shone through the shade of the trees, and the half-minotaur leaned against the tree, holding the small charcoal for it, and drawing the outline on the thin plank.

The pale ghost had no concrete shape, like the silhouette draped in a sheet.

"This is the undead who infiltrated the camp last night?"

Annan recognized what it was drawing. The half-minotaur looked up, his brown pupils reflecting the clean, clear face and eyes in a dirty linen coat.

"Why don't you have a curse on you?"

"My friendliness infected it."

The half-minotaur didn't go into details, and took the initiative to explain the reason why he was not affected: "Filthy blood allows me to avoid the trick. ”

"It's just a trick to make so many people have nightmares?"

"No one was hurt by it." The half-minotaur found that Annan had an aristocratic appearance, and his knowledge of the outside world was not as good as that of a child.

"Aren't you going to tell them?"

Then Annan heard the half-minotaur shake his leg cuffs.

"I'm a slave." The half-minotaur threw away the charcoal, handed the thin plank to Annan, and stood up.

"Is this for me?"

Annan gladly accepted the lead painting on the wood panel, "Thank you." ”

The half-minotaur's footsteps paused briefly at Annan's thanks, and he walked into the camp that was in constant chaos.

Its ordeal reminded Annan of himself a week ago. If it weren't for Aunt Susan, he wouldn't be much better off.

This kind of masonry almost made Annan want to buy half of the minotaur, but a man who barely survived was not qualified to help others.

Back at the shack with his sketchpad in hand, Martin was already squatting down by the basket and eating.

It was still brown bread and sour salted peas.

Although he paid twice as much as the tavern, the food was so bad that Annan thought of the days of begging.

After swallowing breakfast, Annan and Martin, who were proudly watching, stepped into the gold mine in a look of amazement.

However, as soon as he entered, Annan pulled Martin into the fork in the mine only a few dozen meters away from the exit.

The intermittent clanging of pickaxes continued from morning to afternoon, and Annan and Martin came out with baskets.

The good news is that there are no ghosts, and the bad news is that there are no gold mines either.

"Last day...... One last day......"

Old Zolen, who was carrying the empty blue, was muttering something, like a gambler who had fallen on his head.

Annan didn't care, and was even ready to write another letter, although he wouldn't have many words left.

[To:

Lovely ghosts, I long for your ○, I hope you will allow me to go into the depths - from the miners who want ○○]

Checking the finished papyrus, the circles made him blush a little, but he really didn't know that vocabulary, and he couldn't write vaguely.

Stick papyrus to the door, blow out the oil lamp, and slowly fall asleep.

In the middle of the night, three illusory ghosts quietly floated out of the gold mine and dispersed as they had been last night.

One of the silhouettes goes around the door and through the wall into the shed. It wandered under the feet of the sleeping man, and was suddenly attracted by the thin planks on the bedside table.

Impato pencil drawings with ghost portraits rendered in the faint moonlight.

The pale veil picked up the sketchpad, slammed against the door with a soft "bang", and peeked through the crack in the door, and the wind it brought up lifted the papyrus and rushed into the night.

……

Thick darkness filled, shadows and squirming sounded, and evil and terrifying plots echoed, turning into treacherous smirks from time to time.

At one point, an outline lifts up the canvas.

After the hateful, evil, dark aura whispered, and the pencil was pasted to their cozy nests.