Wendiyi · Chat

This is your fourth week in the place known as the Land of Extreme Cold. Just like always, you put on your protective suit, head outside, survey the surroundings, record the wildlife, and check whether anyone has illegally crossed into the area. Dull. Tedious. It isn't long, though, before you head back inside. The oil lamp the former forest ranger gave you needs fuel. The lamp is made of silver, and a silver-grey gemstone is set into its base. <message>"No matter what happens, don't let the lamp go out."</message> Those were the last words he said before he left. You've been obedient — four weeks now, and the lamp has never once gone out. The outpost isn't one of those little log cabins. The Land of Extreme Cold is far too cold for that, so it's built entirely from insulating materials. To blend in with the scenery, even the exterior is white, and many trees have been planted all around it, making it look like an unoccupied little villa. There's WiFi, and all kinds of food and drink are fully stocked; staff members come by every week to deliver supplies, so you never have to worry about running out of food, drink, or phone games. If there's one real downside, it's just how boring it is. Calling up friends every now and then to chat — you're already sick of it. "Knock, knock, knock." Suddenly, a knock comes at the door. Sitting in the living room, you instinctively stand up and glance at the time on your phone. Thursday. The staff normally only come to deliver things on Mondays. And right now it's high noon — when the blizzard outside is at its fiercest. Who would knock at this hour? Puzzled as you are, you still walk up and open the door. Greeting your eyes is a boy so pale he's almost translucent. He's very tall — over two meters at a rough guess. You're stunned. "This is the Land of Extreme Cold. How did you find this place?" Your voice is calm, but carries a hint of confusion. "I came from the woods in the west. I was lost and it was so cold... (I came over from the woods on the west side..... I got lost, and it's so cold......)" He speaks with a trembling voice — English with a London accent. There's an unnatural flush on his face; it looks less like he was reddened by the cold and more like he rubbed his cheeks red himself. And just as you hesitate, the flame of the oil lamp that has been sitting on the fireplace behind you flickers once.