The afternoon sun reflected off the lake, throwing glimmers across the water.
"I hope someone trips and drowns," Ming Sulin stabbed the dirt a few times, venting the anger and humiliation she suffered.
Hmm, just you wait, you—she imagined the dungeon master looked like the sloth guy from The Goonies.
Voices from the picnic area carried in the warm breeze—laughter, the faint clink of drinks, the sizzle from the grill.
Ming Sulin, however, was in an entirely opposite mood.
While everyone else soaked in the cheerful warmth, she sat slightly apart, arms crossed, still faintly smelling of the shit the Dungeon Master had dropped her into.
Damn shit master and his shitpit! I will become like the two butt cheeks that work together to stop your shit!
Tsk.
You dare throw shit on me, I dare to shit on you!
Ming Sulin was currently on a dark path of no return, spiraling like a vengeful ghost.
Character Uncle Tim stood with a spatula in one hand, still wearing his old fishing cap like it was glued on.
His wife arranged paper plates at the folding table, chatting with the two other families who'd arrived.
Eh.
It was a bit creepy for Ming Sulin to see Tim and Sally in one piece and alive.
The two characters she beheaded like the Queen of Hearts.
"Off with their heads."
R.I.P. She clapped her hands together and sent a prayer for them and an apology.
Pftt.
Ming Sulin chuckled silently at her own corkiness.
Kids darted between the picnic tables, some barefoot, some still in damp swimsuits, squealing as they tried to avoid being tagged.
"Oof, ow!" a kid that ran by suddenly tripped over something, falling to the ground.
"Haha," Ming Sulin stuck out a stick and tripped a kid that ran past her—it was Jake.
She helped him up quickly, hiding her smile. "Little cousin Jake, you should watch your step more, not to trip when not paying attention."
"Oh, hmm," Jake was lost but still nodded as he glanced at her suspiciously.
Jake looked at the area where he tripped before running off, when he could notice what was wrong with anything.
Tally and Henry stood apart, both quiet. It was odd seeing them that way—they were no trouble.
She didn't slow down.
Ming Sulin found a seat in the shade and walked over while looking around at everyone.
She slipped sideways between two coolers, skirting the conversation entirely for the second time, and made her way toward where the family was set up.
"This better not be a waste of time," she muttered. "I swear—
A horn blared down the gravel road, snapping her back.
A dusty SUV pulled up. Out stepped Uncle James, stretching his back, his wife Tanya hauling a cooler, and their kids Nancy and Drew, tumbling out with vacation smiles.
Ming Sulin blinked. "Wait. What?"
She rubbed her temple. For a second, her brain lagged.
Another family? At the cabin?
She tried to remember the storyline but hit a blank.
Like the dungeon had slipped something past her.
Maybe it's the time jumps?!
She laughed nervously.
"Oh, right! Right, there was… another family the first day she forgot because she didn't see them at all." She slapped her thigh in remembrance.
Totally didn't forget that. It was that she ignored a few things she didn't feel matched with the storyline or plot, so it was subconsciously not counted in her clues.
The mother Margaret sat in a lawn chair, sunglasses perched on her head, talking with Uncle James's and Tim's wives.
The father Gregory leaned against the ice chest, beer in hand, swapping stories with Uncle Tim and James about some fishing trip from years back.
Derek, the brother, was on the other side, elbows resting on the table, lazily scrolling through his phone.
She dropped into the open chair beside him, letting out a quiet breath as she sat.
The smell of grilled burgers and lake air mixed around them, the low hum of family chatter making it feel like summer was officially here.
Her brother glanced at her from the corner of his eye but didn't say anything, just looked away after seeing that Ming Sulin was looking at him.
Uncle Tim yelled across the table,
"Hey! You hungry?"
"Yeah!" Ming Sulin and Derek spoke simultaneously, managing a small smile.
"We got burgers coming up in two minutes," Tim shouted back.
Why did I get moved back to the first day?
This was a question that had been bugging her.
Did she miss something?
She had to.
Ming Sulin slid further into her corner, arms crossed tighter, muttering under her breath.
A faint whiff of her "souvenir" drifted up, causing her to wrinkle her nose.
"I smell like I rolled in shit and everyone's enjoying themselves laughing. Perfect humiliation."
"And when I hit it, I'll… I'll… oh, grandpa will invent a shit-fighting skill just for you!!"
She jabbed an imaginary finger at the air. "Mark my words, shitpit tyrant… I will rise, and I will return with vengeance… and possibly hand sanitizer!"
Somewhere behind the calm surface of reality, the Dungeon Master had been listening, silent, amused.
He had thought it was hilarious to watch her grovel, to watch her flail and struggle as he stacked the odds against her.
He had wanted her to suffer—really suffer—the way he believed she deserved.
And truthfully, he'd hoped to kill her off quickly like the others.
But Ming Sulin was like a cockroach in his carefully designed maze: no matter how many times he tried to squash her, she survived, scurrying through every miserable trial.
Now, as he replayed her furious little rant in his mind, something twisted inside him.
Against his better judgment, he found himself grinning.
A worthy rival.
He wouldn't admit it out loud, but the word echoed in him like a challenge.
This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
For now, he vanished back into the dungeon's walls, retreating into silence, but not before planting the seeds of his next cruelty.
As the lake shimmered under the late golden sun, the water spitting little shards of gold across its ripples.
Ming Sulin sat in the grass, stabbing a stick into the dirt like it owed her money.
Her thoughts were a mess—half in reality, half in the dungeon rules she couldn't turn off.