There can't be a Harvest Moon in the RimWorld.

"Occupy the mines! Fight for equal rights!"

This inspiring speech, just as they had heard countless times, stirred hope, courage, expectation, and even greed in the eyes of these people.

I should have suspected some of them much earlier. But Hooker's overly reserved defense led me into a blind spot.

When I heard the news and rushed to the scene, the place was a complete mess.

Judging from the footprints left by the spilled wine, these people headed southwest of the town. The messy footprints stretched endlessly, passing over Little Hook's estate and heading into the territory of Mount Mads.

I am deeply saddened that Little Hooker Plantation, our last line of defense, failed at the most crucial moment after hindering us countless times.

Is this strange?

No, the strange thing isn't here, but in what happened next.

For the next three days, we did not find the dozen or so people who had gone into the mountains. At first, we thought they were building fortifications and preparing for battle, but that idea also failed.

There was nothing on the mountain.

The last footprints stopped at the entrance of the mine at the foot of the mountain.

Based on my analysis, when those people entered the cave, some remained outside. However, whether it was because the mine was too rich or because of a conflict among them, everyone eventually entered the mine, leaving only broken and fallen weeds behind.

I also observed that one person was the last to enter the cave and tried to leave a mark on the wooden stake at the entrance, but the stone was eventually discarded on the ground and the mark on the stake was blurred and difficult to recognize.

And so, the mine completely swallowed up the intruders, leaving no trace.

We returned to the foot of the mountain and explained to the remaining miners that they had collected enough precious ore, then crossed Mount Mads and escaped by boat from the other side of the island.

The miners knew it was impossible. The island's regular flights were under our control; no one could circumvent the alliance's agreement and escape alone. These men would surely die at our hands, as the price of the rebellion.

We know this is impossible. It must be the second strange event that happened again when we weren't paying attention. These people must have died in the randomly shifting mine shaft, leaving no trace.

However, both sides were unwilling to reveal their suspicions, so they tacitly continued their daily routines.

Besides Dolanco, who still works as a carpenter, his years of logging have made him one of the people who know this mountain best.

After that, he went up the mountain many times in an attempt to find the missing person, but his greatest find was only some suspicious and blurry footprints, with no complete and discernible shape.

…………

The ship is about to set sail. Thanks to those damned profiteers of the Navigators' Alliance, they remain the most reliable partners in the world, as well as the most ruthless exploiters.

I can finally talk about the last strange thing in peace. It might be the most incredible thing that has ever happened to me.

During our last days in town, the question we asked most often was one sentence.

Did you hear those sounds?

If you say you heard it, then congratulations, you will receive a bunch of hugs, blessings, and pitiful looks.

If you say you didn't hear it, then unfortunately, you will continue to live in this unspeakable atmosphere of terror, living in constant fear.

Children say it to their parents, friends say it to their drinkers, family members say it to themselves...

Countless people kept repeating this question because a faint, ethereal song began to spread throughout the town.

Those who have heard it describe the sound as a whistling mountain wind blowing through the crevices of a canyon—and this is by no means a compliment.

The sound was sharp, drawn-out, and fluctuating in intensity, like someone stirring a nerve and then tying it to a gallows and suspending it high in the air, waiting for the tragic moment when it would break and release its kinetic energy.

Over time, some people have described it as a kind of singing in their delirium. But how can someone consistently emit that kind of scream, like a neurotic cat whose tail has been stepped on?

Rumors began circulating in the tavern once again.

In the description, during the gathering at the tavern that day, when the atmosphere reached its peak, the people collectively and spontaneously fell silent. The noisy scene suddenly seemed empty and insignificant, and even the distance between people seemed to be lengthened.

The leader stood on the stage, mouth agape, his dry throat unable to utter a complete sentence, only managing to make a "ho ho ho" sound, like a goose being grabbed by the neck.

Everyone heard a faint sound and followed it outwards, chasing the direction from which the sound was clearest.

They marched in neat rows, leaving footprints of varying depths, listening to voices from beyond the heavens, and thus embarked on the irreversible journey to Mount Mades.

Inside the tavern, there was a poor soul who had been dead drunk since the night before, huddled among the barrels in a corner. In his dazed state, he recorded the entire moment, and with his superior caution and negligible experience, he was once again so frightened that he fainted.

What might have been a drunkard's rambling conversation about getting drinks became the final straw that broke the miners' backs. After that, any casual humming or rhyming couplet would trigger their fragile nerves.

Desperate, the miners abandoned their work and boarded the ship back to the mainland.

They carried only exhaustion and the fear that would accompany them for the rest of their lives.

Once again, only a few of us founders remained on the island. Time seemed to have rewound to the period right after we landed, when we, a few penniless men, wanted to conquer this land with nothing but our bare hands.

We checked with each other repeatedly and didn't hear any suspicious singing.

But not long after, old Yorkson disappeared.

This poor old man was too old to leave his room and spent his days sitting in a rocking chair, reading the heavy tome on his lap, living a life of asceticism.

The second is Doranco.

He persisted in his daily mountain patrols, walking alone through dark, dense forests, beside deep pools of water, and along steep cliffs, futilely trying to find the truth behind it all.

Then came the third, the fourth...

Forgive me, this cowardly sheriff.

I booked the earliest ferry, determined to leave all my belongings behind and escape this place of trouble.

Before I even heard that song.

I know that day is not far off.

The clouds on the horizon rose up and were slowly stirred by the wind before sunset, spreading in all directions.

This sunset is just like the scene when we landed on the island back then.

Back then, we lived together in a row of houses by the sea, but later only that stubborn little Hook refused to move...

Wait a moment?!

Little Hook!

Damn it, I forgot there was someone else on the island!

That was our last brother!

I looked desperately toward the island, which was about to be submerged at the horizon.

Just then, a mournful song, carried by the trade winds of the sea, came up from that island!

I heard it!

I heard you!

It caught me!

I furiously questioned each sailor whether they had heard anything, until I was firmly tied to the mast, my eyes blankly staring at a corner of the sea.

I heard a deafening song coming from that island, soaring straight into the sky.

I also heard a completely different melody mixed in with that terrifying singing.

The melody was thin, fragile, noisy, and vulgar, but it held firm in the corner, refusing to yield an inch...

Crossing high mountains and small rivers.

We are a group of penniless people.

Pickaxe clanging

Pickaxe clanging

Silver ore was mined like pearls

The mined copper ore looks like seashells.

Ding ding dang dong, gold mine found!

They all went into the old turtledoves' treasure box.

Ha ha ha ha………

Hahaha……

My brother...

Chapter 23 Suspicious Points

"Prompt message: Residual information has been read successfully"

"Close the information interface."

As I stepped into that dark, gaping mine, a piercing alarm blared in my ears.

I saw a red light flashing incessantly next to the gear icon in my field of vision, like a piece of iron heated red-hot by a blacksmith, imprinted three inches into my retina.

At that moment, my left foot had already stepped into the mine pit, and my right foot was on tiptoe, about to push myself into the bottomless darkness.

I was secretly glad that I had received this reminder.

It must have been because my doubts at the hot spring inn were too strong that, driven by curiosity, I recklessly ventured into a mine that hadn't been used for many years without any lighting, first aid, or breathing equipment.

Cave roof collapse, gas leak, poisonous creatures, ferocious beasts, abandoned traps...

Either of them has the power to kill me.

After all, I learned today that while the Colonizer System amplifies my abilities, it doesn't guarantee that I'm invulnerable.

When I was hit by the pony, my abdomen was already afflicted with a negative status effect. If my heart or head had been attacked...

Having calmed down, facing this dark abyss, I finally regained my senses, found a rock to sit on, and began to check the alarm.

Unexpectedly, after turning on the alarm, a long monologue appeared.

It may be taken from a diary, a memoir, a letter, or simply someone's ramblings.

Judging from the parts of the monologue that have been omitted, the information spans a vast period of time, and the story may have been distributed over several years or even decades.

I sketched and wrote on the land, trying to clarify the underlying connections. Although the timeline wasn't explicitly stated, these stories should be linearly distributed.

I began to think about the protagonist.

The protagonist is an illegal immigrant who landed on the island earlier and carried out a frenzied and radical development project in the island's mines. Of the five people who accompanied him, at least four appear in the story: Old Yorkson, Little Hook, Antonio, and Doranco. In addition to the protagonist, "I," there is one more person who never appears.

I am an ordinary miner with little education who later learned some knowledge on my own. I possess the courage and caution befitting my status and eventually escape by boat alone, but my efforts ultimately fail.