Page 61 of Played By Design

Another location that doesn’t exist. Another price that makes no sense.

I check the profiles.

Blackmarket_spy_23.

Shadow_runner_23.

Created together.

And unlike the others, they’re still active.

Four pages of notes fill the screen. I’ve mapped twenty account clusters spanning three years. The quests, the lore, and the community fade from my thoughts. All I see is the pattern, the same coded language repeating through the years.

The pieces start to click into place.

In-game locations become meeting points. Material names become product categories. The ridiculous prices aren’t prices at all. They’re amounts.

‘Payment sent’ and ‘clear’ don’t mean a trade happened in-game; they mean a real-world transaction is complete.

I find what appear to be complaints about late shipments.

user_dusk_warden_07 >> Grey ore stalled at east gate. Supplier issues. 5,000 already paid.

Another:

user_ironbound_merchant >> 8,500 outstanding for iron ingots. Won’t release next crate until resolved.

I find newer clusters using the same pattern.

Obsidian shards. Waterfront depot. Secondary docks. Five-figure payments for worthless materials in-game.

None of the locations exist in Dusk Protocol.

None of the prices belong to its economy.

But they make sense if nobody is talking about the game.

Someone has been using Dusk Protocol’s marketplace as a trade hub. They did it so well that anyone without my game knowledge would read it as only routine chatter. The mods would spot nothing to flag, and once a transaction was complete, the thread would be deleted. Vanished. Except Kain unlocked every deleted conversation.

Laptop in hand, I fling myself off the beanbag, the foam beads collapsing with a plastic rustle.

Three steps later, I slap it down in front of Kain’s keyboard, giving him just enough time to yank his hands back. “Look.”

Kain leans toward my screen. “What am I looking at, Bunny?”

I pull up the first cluster. “Grey ore is worthless, but they want five thousand gold. And look at the pickup location.”

His brow furrows.

“There is no east gate.” I switch to the next thread. “Obsidian shards are another worthless material, but they’re asking twelve thousand a stack. And there’s no waterfront depot in Dusk Protocol, either.”

Another click brings up my spreadsheet, account clusters separated into reds, blues, and greens.

“The accounts only talk to each other. They show up together, stay active for two or three days, coordinate a handful of trades, and disappear. And the prices are insane, but it’s always paid.”

Kain drags the laptop closer.

I scroll.