Every one of my teammates is more unbelievable than the last:
A thousand-year-old white weasel, highly knowledgeable but afraid of pain, has become the “search engine cheat code” in my head.
And the campus belle I just managed to win over heard the truth and immediately asked, “Can I come along on your next adventure?”
Now we’ve set our sights on the “elevator game” that’s taken the university by storm.
They say that if you press the right floors, you can have any wish granted. Press the wrong ones, and the darkness outside the doors will turn you into a sleepwalking shell.
The old con man took a drag on his cigarette and stepped into the elevator. “Watch and learn, kid. This time, what we’re hunting might be a big one, fed by the ‘daydreams’ of hundreds of students.”
