Chapter 242 - 198: Never Respond

Richard nodded lightly, indicating he understood.

The iron cage descended for another thirty seconds. Inside, it was completely silent.

The only sound was the CREAK of the chain’s pulley.

As they went deeper, the echo gradually faded.

The grain of salt Richard held under his tongue had already half-dissolved in his saliva.

Just then...

"Richard."

The voice came from behind his left shoulder, carrying the slow, deliberate tone of an older gentleman.

"Have you adjusted the shutter on that camera of yours?"

Richard almost opened his mouth instinctively.

The moment his tongue touched the roof of his mouth, the grain of salt lodged under its base dug into the flesh.

It didn’t hurt, but it was like a fine needle, jolting him out of the mindless impulse to reply.

Richard snapped his mouth shut, a cold sweat breaking out across his back.

’I almost answered.’

When someone you know speaks to you, responding is truly an uncontrollable instinct.

Richard glanced to his left out of the corner of his eye.

Mr. Hutton was standing in front of him and to the left. His lips weren’t moving, and he didn’t even glance in Richard’s direction.

Richard swallowed. His mouth was so salty and dry that his throat was starting to feel numb.

He calmly drew his gaze back and looked toward the front of the cage again.

[Perception] Lv. 2 kicked in at that moment.

Even without activating his Spiritual Vision, he could feel the Ether Flow around the cage twisting in a way he had never seen before.

They were like "tentacles" of some kind, reaching up from the depths of the well’s walls.

When these "tentacles" reached the cage, they would first probe the breathing rhythm of everyone inside.

Following each person’s breath, they would reverse-engineer the vibration patterns of their larynx, which were then reconstructed into that person’s voice.

Finally, they would arrange that voice into a sentence that was hardest to ignore.

The cage descended another twenty feet or so.

"Kid."

This time, the voice came from behind him to the right. It was Old Big’s familiar, greasy tone.

"Were your hands shaking just now? Don’t be so scared on your first trip down the well... C’mon, c’mon, let’s go over the rules again."

Richard ignored it. He was prepared this time.

He didn’t open his mouth, instead flicking his gaze to the right and back.

Old Big was standing there, holding the small wooden box with the engraving tools.

He was facing the front of the cage, his jaw set tight and his lips unmoving.

At that same moment, Old Big’s eyes darted toward Richard.

Their eyes met, and Old Big slowly raised the index finger of his left hand to his lips.

Richard understood.

Old Big had heard it too—he had heard the words that weren’t his own.

But he hadn’t said a thing.

Because he knew this was the exact response the thing in the well was hoping for.

Someone else proving it for you: "That wasn’t me who just spoke."

As long as anyone in the cage opened their mouth about it.

Even a denial would give the thing in the well the opening it needed.

So the best way to handle it was to act as if you heard nothing.

Richard’s fingers tightened inside his jacket pocket.

He clutched the small pinch of coarse salt so tightly it nearly left an imprint on his skin.

The cage descended another twenty feet or so.

The voices grew more frequent.

"Richard," Lady Mod’s voice came from his front right.

"Your hands are so sweaty. Do you want to wipe them?"

"Richard," Mr. Spence’s voice came from his back left.

"There’s something on the back of your neck."

"Richard," the voice of the tall, thin leader from Team Two drifted from the edge of the cage.

"Your camera strap is about to break."

Richard’s mouth was completely numb; the grain of salt was almost gone.

The cage descended another stretch.

"Richard."

This time, the voice drifted up from below the cage.

It was Mrs. MacNeil’s voice.

The Spirit Medium wasn’t in their cage. She was in the first group and had already reached the bottom.

But this "Richard" sounded as if she were whispering right in his ear.

"That grain of salt you’re holding under your tongue... has it almost dissolved?"

"You should swap it for a new one. There are more in your inner pocket."