The Informal Tomb Raiding Diary: She is the occupant of the tomb!-Chapter 70: Another Departure with No Return

Someone called the guesthouse owner upstairs, saying that their room’s water supply was cut off. His wife went to find the owner and never returned, so he wanted to know what was going on.

The guesthouse owner repeatedly apologized but said he hadn’t seen the man’s wife come downstairs.

The guesthouse’s handyman was with her in the lobby the whole time, and she has already called the police because the guest from room 205 might have gotten lost outside.

The guesthouse is only so big, with a total of ten rooms upstairs and downstairs. The man whose wife was missing stayed in room 203. Just as I was thinking that he was right next door to us, there was a knock on the door.

This time, Chen Qinghan raised his hand to signal me to stay inside while he went over to open the door.

The one knocking was still the guesthouse owner, a charming woman particularly warm towards male customers.

She asked Chen Qinghan if he had heard the guest from room 203 go out.

"I heard a door close, but that’s all," Chen Qinghan replied.

"Oh, sorry to disturb you. Is your girlfriend’s foot feeling better? She should get plenty of rest. Let me know if you need anything." The owner tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and gave a slight smile filled with subtle charm.

I watched eagerly from the doorway, seeing the expression on the owner’s face clearly.

"Thanks." Chen Qinghan politely thanked her and closed the door, seeming disinterested in what was happening outside.

Two people went missing one after another. Although the owner had already called the police, the guests in other rooms were still uneasy. Especially the man from 203, he demanded the owner send someone immediately to look for his wife, shouting so loudly that the whole corridor could hear.

His concern was not entirely unreasonable. The fog outside was thick, making it difficult for a police car to arrive quickly. But staying outside in such weather was dangerous, and waiting for the fog to clear before searching would be too late.

Some were onlookers just eating melon seeds, while others were eager to help. Soon, the owner organized a search party, led by the guesthouse’s handyman, to find the missing couple.

The owner found a few bundles of rope and tied one end to the handyman’s waist and the other to a large flowerpot at the entrance, with others holding the rope, walking in a line like they were climbing a mountain.

If they reached the end of the rope or found the people, they would return to the guesthouse. If an emergency occurred, the handyman would contact the owner by phone.

I squatted on the balcony, listening to them talk until the search party set off. The owner and the onlookers returned to the lobby, leaving two people in the courtyard.

These two said they wanted to smoke outside. As soon as they lit their cigarettes, one of them said, "It’s been seven years again, right?"

The other took a drag, slowly replying, "Yes, every seven years, seven people."

"It’s been 35 years... Time flies."

Their vague, mysterious conversation caught my attention.

"Seven people die every seven years?" I asked.

"Yes, uh... who?"

"Upstairs here, come up and chat~" I waved to the two downstairs, but the fog was so thick they probably couldn’t see me.

The guesthouse owner had hung flashing lights at the entrance, allowing me to see the silhouettes of the two men and the red glow of their cigarettes.

But the balcony on the second floor was completely engulfed in fog, so they didn’t realize someone was eavesdropping.

"Hehe, girl, we’re just chatting casually, don’t take it seriously. The dampness outside is heavy, better head back inside."

Their voices didn’t sound young. Since they didn’t want to share their ’story’ with me, I could continue to eavesdrop.

Caught in a private conversation, they quickly stubbed out their cigarettes and planned to head back inside. I hurriedly ran back inside, and Chen Qinghan quickly grabbed me.

"You know it’s unsafe, and you still run outside?"

"You said I was the safest, it’s fine to listen to some gossip."

"There’s no life-threatening danger, but there’s a risk of exposing our identity. Plus, this fog is weird. If you get lost in it, who knows if you’ll ever find your way back? Just watch your drama obediently."

Chen Qinghan firmly put me back in front of the computer desk, placing the headphones over my head.

The fog outside was indeed different from usual, and besides, it had rained before. Where did the fog come from in such weather...

Ever since the fog enveloped the guesthouse, it felt like everything between heaven and earth was swallowed by it.

Chen Qinghan wouldn’t let me eavesdrop, so I could only search online. I first checked the weather forecast, but there was no news of this dense fog.

Then I searched the place name with the word ’death.’ There were only ten results, which I read one by one, but I found no mention of ’seven years’ and ’seven people.’

If there’s no information online, then how did those two people know that the ’death’ tradition here has been kept for 35 years?

Unless they’re present at every incident; there are countless events happening every day in the world, some truly intriguing.

Just like I enjoy listening to tomb robbers recounting their ’strange crime history,’ I like various unusual ’stories.’

But Chen Qinghan wouldn’t let me go outside, and he had essentially become my ’guardian’ now.

"Oh no, the rope—it’s fallen to the ground!" A woman’s shout once again broke the silence inside the guesthouse.

I immediately ran to the balcony to see the commotion. This woman was the wife of a team member named Li from the impromptu search party. She had initially disagreed with her husband joining the search party.

Perhaps out of concern for her husband’s safety, as soon as the team set out, she went downstairs to check on the rope.

And she saw that the rope was on the ground, not appearing as if anyone was holding it.

Her call brought all the other guests out of the guesthouse. There weren’t many people there, and the thick fog exerted a heavy psychological pressure, as if the entire guesthouse was swallowed up by a mysterious force.

As soon as something happened, the people inside couldn’t stay put. They all gathered at the entrance, with someone suggesting pulling the rope back.

"Don’t move!" At that moment, a man with white hair squeezed in front of the rope, halting the person reaching for it.

"If they just set the rope aside temporarily for some reason, pulling it would leave them with no guidance back." The man made a valid point, and the reaching hand immediately withdrew.

"That would mean there’s an emergency, right? The handyman should call back," the woman who found the rope on the ground urged.

"The humidity in the air can affect electromagnetic waves. The fog is too thick outside, maybe the signal is interrupted." I recognized this man’s voice; he was one of those who knew about the ’seven-year’ incidents.

"I say wait for rescue then. Now it’s worse; those two are still missing, and four more are gone." Someone complained, and I perked up at the words.

So now it’s six, only one more until seven are missing.

If the last person goes missing, this year’s goal is met. Then, to unravel the truth, you’d have to wait another seven years.

Hmm... I rubbed my chin and came up with another question: what happens if the count never reaches?