Stella's hatred toward me could be said to be extreme. Fortunately, Luna was present, otherwise I'd be done for - when Stella hits someone, she really lives up to her "tigress" name.
To divert her attention, I had to change the subject with some questions.
"Eh, you two look so alike. How can someone tell you apart with 100% accuracy?" I asked.
Apart from their personalities, I genuinely couldn't tell the twins apart. If Stella remained silent, they were completely identical with no distinguishable differences.
"Hmph, idiot!" Stella suddenly straightened her posture and thrust out her chest. "Can you tell the difference now, you stinky man?"
I hadn't noticed before, but... hehehe... indeed there was a way to tell them apart. Judging by size, Stella was more... substantial than her sister...
"Hey, sister, have some modesty." Luna embarrassedly patted Stella's shoulder. "Roger is laughing at us."
I said nothing. I was used to it, and it was "quite" nice actually. Women.
"Sister, look at him! He's such a lecherous old rogue, and you're still calling him 'Roger'?" Stella actually caught the implied meaning, while Luna just looked blank-faced - clearly much more naive than Stella.
Unhappy with the situation, Stella said her sister was too innocent to stay at my place, or this old rogue would take advantage of her. She hurriedly dragged her sister away.
Before they left, I asked Luna how she happened to appear at the Siberian weasel's grave. Her timing had been perfect - otherwise Stein and I would have been done for.
Luna explained she'd been hired by the dam authorities. The dam had been rumored to be haunted for years due to strange occurrences, so someone paid her to investigate. While passing the Siberian weasel grave, she discovered an even more powerful ghost presence there.
Our meeting seemed fated. I didn't know whether it was mere coincidence or destiny bringing Luna and me together.
After Stella and Luna left, the tattoo parlor became much quieter. Stein was still searching for Antonio's contact information. We'd been looking for so long without success - you'd think finding a mine would be easier. If we couldn't locate him, we'd have to deal with Daphne potentially trashing our shop.
I didn't worry about it, instead leisurely crossing my legs while sipping tea and eating sunflower seeds, waiting for the next customer.
Sure enough, that afternoon someone added me on WeChat - a contact from one of the groups.
Stein's business skills were impressive. He'd created a customer group where he daily explained the benefits and functions of our Gods and Ghosts tattoos, along with sharing customer testimonials. With constant promotion like this, business kept coming in.
However, this customer was somewhat special. Like those online keyboard warriors, he started questioning and accusing me the moment he picked up his keyboard. He swore that if I was a fraud, my whole family would die, and went on with various threats. He even claimed to have powerful connections, saying I'd be dead if I dared to cheat him. His aggressive tone made me want to skin him alive if he weren't hiding behind a screen.
I told him if he had any doubts, he should come to the shop personally to see the Millennium Tattoos of Gods and Ghosts - their effects were absolutely guaranteed. Asking all these questions through a screen was pointless since he wouldn't believe my answers anyway.
After much back-and-forth, he finally agreed to visit the shop that evening.
Around 8 p.m., a skinny young man appeared at our door - wearing glasses, shrinking like a quail, and looking timid when he saw me.
He introduced himself as Éamonn, the one who had messaged me on WeChat earlier. His voice was barely above a whisper, completely different from his online persona.
What the hell - this was the classic keyboard warrior syndrome: timid in reality, barely able to make eye contact or lift his head, but acting all tough online!
I invited him in and asked why he wanted a Gods and Ghosts tattoo.
Éamonn adjusted his glasses and continued speaking in that barely audible voice - worlds apart from his keyboard-wielding self.
He explained that one day he got into an online argument. When the other person challenged him to a real fight, Éamonn - knowing full well what a coward he was in real life - didn't dare accept.
So he kept trash-talking online while avoiding any real confrontation, even daring the other person to "come through the internet line" to fight him.
Unexpectedly, the opponent replied: "Just you wait."
Éamonn laughed it off, saying if the guy could actually come through the internet line, he'd eat ten tons of shit - and enjoy every bite.
At that point the opponent sent one final message and went silent. No matter how much Éamonn provoked him afterward, there was no response - as if he'd gone offline.
Éamonn assumed he'd won and smiled smugly, but something about the situation made his scalp prickle with unease.
That night when he went to bed, something strange happened. Éamonn suddenly woke up to find his computer had turned on by itself. The screen's eerie white glow illuminated his bed - something that had never happened before. Could it be a virus?
As Éamonn got up to investigate, he made a horrifying discovery: there was someone clinging to his home's internet cable.
The man was deathly pale - about Éamonn's age - and his body was so unnaturally light that he could hang effortlessly from the internet cable.