Corpse King: "Hello Fan Mao, is it convenient to talk right now?"
Corpse King: "Regarding the food we discussed last time, we'd like to confirm the final price."
The Corpse King typed these two sentences into the panel and then looked up at the four equally anxious people in the room.
It was the same room they had used for dining last time, except now on the table lay not food, but an old-fashioned light bulb with exposed wires.
A fine brown-black wire, soiled with grease, wound the light bulb onto a candle holder, taking the place where a candle once stood.
The dim light shone on everyone's face, casting thick shadows against the wall behind them.
They had been gathered here since nightfall, only just coming to a rough conclusion.
"Ah...
If we hadn't taken in more people recently, we wouldn't be in such a rush for food."
The speaker was a bald man with a scar on his face, irritably scratching the scar on his forehead, expressing his discontent.
