The little girl stopped abruptly.
Her small frame trembled as her head twisted around unnaturally, blood vessels bulging beneath her skin like something alive. Her ferocious expression locked onto Lucas.
"Your apples look pretty good," she rasped, voice cracking like frozen wood. "Can you… bring them over? I want to see them."
The word "apple" acted on her like a magic switch—her rigid posture softened, the bulging veins faded, and her face melted into an innocent, glowing smile.
"Really, sir? Do you want to buy my apples?" she asked with a sweetness that did not match the horror from a second ago.
Niya, who had been standing nearby, watched the girl's transformation with wide, terrified eyes. He opened his mouth to warn Lucas—but fear crushed his courage. His voice died in his throat. He silently stepped back, slipping toward the shadows.
Luckily, the girl paid no attention to Niya anymore. Her full attention was on the new "customer."
She lifted the bamboo basket with both hands, her little feet tiptoeing to raise it higher.
"Sir, do you want to buy an apple? My apples are the freshest, the biggest, and the sweetest!"
Lucas leaned in, peering into the basket. The apples glistened under the dim train lights—red, plump, alluring.
His risk assessment panel blinked.
[A risk assessment is being generated based on the host's own strength…]
[Apple: Intermediate Danger]
[Apple: Intermediate Danger]
[…]
Lucas frowned.
"…I can't tell which apple is more dangerous."
He lowered his gaze to meet the girl's bright, expectant eyes.
"And how do you guarantee your apples are always fresh?" he asked casually. It was just a typical market question, the kind anyone would ask.
But to the girl, who had never been questioned before, the words struck her like a blow. She froze.
After a long pause, she whispered timidly, "Because… my apples were just picked from the tree. Look, sir—they're still covered in freshly melted snow."
Lucas looked carefully.
Indeed, every apple had thin trails of snowmelt running down its skin.
"You're an honest child," Lucas said warmly.
The little girl beamed at the praise, her small shoulders rising with pride.
But he wasn't done questioning.
"To prove what you're saying… tell me where you picked these apples."
The girl answered instantly—too instantly.
"I picked my apples in Snow White's yard!"
Lucas blinked.
Snow White's… yard?
His mind flashed to Hathaway taking a gentle bite of an apple before.
"Don't tell me Snow White grows poison apples…"
[Group Live Broadcast Chat]
"???"
"Guys… is this REALLY a fairytale world??"
"Didn't Snow White DIE from a poisoned apple? Why is she planting them now?!"
"Wait—wait—if the little girl got on the train selling poisoned apples and turned EVIL… shouldn't you have RUN?!"
"How are you supposed to clear this quest?!"
"Other players triggered it too—they're all searching for the apple girl!"
"Oh no… this dungeon is the type where ALL PLAYERS trigger the same mission! This is malicious design!"
Lucas ignored the panic-filled comments and looked gently at the girl.
"So… all these apples were stolen?"
The little girl's smile stiffened completely.
Her arms slowly lowered.
"No… no…" She bit her lip, head shrinking into her shoulders. "It's not stealing. The apples grow there. I only picked a few…"
Her voice trembled.
"If I didn't pick them… I would freeze to death."
Lucas's eyes sharpened.
"The apple's power isn't from you… it's from Snow White herself."
The girl's entire body shuddered. She looked toward the window with a mixture of disbelief and terror, gripping the basket like a shield.
Lucas followed her gaze.
Through the frosted train window, the platform was visible.
There, standing just outside the train door, was a woman.
She wore a tattered princess dress, but her skin—paler than fresh snow—was crawling with purplish veins. Her shoulders sagged unnaturally. Her eyes, pitch-black and soulless, slowly rotated a full 180 degrees.
She stepped forward stiffly.
The skin at her knees had split open, milky-white worms wriggling in and out of the wounds.
When she opened her mouth to speak, her decayed teeth scraped against each other like broken glass.
"My apples were stolen," the woman hissed. "The thief is on this train. May I board… to retrieve what is mine?"
The conductor smiled politely—but his tone was mercilessly firm.
"Sorry, miss. If you can prove those apples are yours, then I can allow you to board."
Snow White's face twisted in anger.
She couldn't prove ownership.
And she couldn't force herself onto the train.
Because clearly…
She was afraid of something inside.
Feeling watched, the woman turned her head sharply.
Her decayed features contorted with rage.
Her blackened eyes met Lucas's.
[Modeling in progress…]
[A risk assessment is being generated based on the host's own strength…]
[Snow White (Corrupted Form): Advanced Danger]
Lucas inhaled sharply.
"Snow White… is basically a zombie?!"
The little girl beside him began trembling uncontrollably.
"Snow White is here… she's here… She'll take all the apples back! She won't stop… she won't stop…"
She hugged the basket tighter, as if it were her only lifeline.
Her eyes darted around the carriage in frantic panic.
Finally, she looked up at Lucas, voice desperate, hopeful—pleading.
"Sir… do you want to buy my apples? I can sell you ALL of them!"
Lucas smiled kindly, ready to answer.
But before he could speak—
A crisp, elegant voice cut through the air.
"I will buy all of your apples."
The girl stiffened in surprise.
She turned around.
A man stood there—a tall figure wearing a old-fashioned gentleman's hat, holding a thin black cane. His shoes tapped lightly as he approached from the direction of Car No. 10.
The air around him carried a strange, aristocratic calm—yet something in it was chilling.
And the chapter ends here…
More updates are coming. There will DEFINITELY be more.
--------------------------------------------------
250+ chapters available in patreon🔥🔥🔥🔥
patreon.com/Dragonscribe31
----------------------------------------------------- .