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Bonus chapter! Thank you to JustSomeOne for the donation! ^^
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The interplay of darkness and dim yellow lighting always carried an ominous feeling, as if something horrifying might crawl out from the shadows at any moment.
Terrifying. Chilling.
Just like what Ruan Qing was feeling right now.
The sound outside had stopped when he locked the door—but after two seconds, it started again.
This time, it was louder. Closer. Faster.
As if whatever was out there had noticed him.
No, not as if—it was coming for him. Ruan Qing stumbled backward, putting distance between himself and the door.
The noise drew nearer and nearer, until… it was right outside.
Every door on the cruise ship was secured with a digital passcode lock, made of reinforced material. They could only be opened with an identity card.
But that didn’t mean safety. Otherwise, this dungeon would be far too easy.
From the very beginning, this Infinite Horror Game had been malicious toward its players, pushing them toward death at every turn. It was never charitable—certainly not the type to hand out life-saving tools at the start.
Just like in the last dungeon, the <Haunted Building>, buying an apartment and becoming a resident of the complex had been both a lifeline and a death sentence.
This dungeon’s "invitation letter" was likely the same.
It might offer temporary protection, but in the end, it would only lead the players to a different kind of doom.
In other words, even with the invitation, safety was never guaranteed.
Ruan Qing’s nerves were stretched to the breaking point. His eyes remained fixed on the door, his breath held.
The sound was right outside now—the dripping of water growing clearer, faster, until it became a relentless, unbroken rhythm.
Cold sweat beaded on Ruan Qing’s forehead as he clutched the baseball bat he’d grabbed from the nearby table, his knuckles white.
But aside from the eerie dripping, there was nothing. No movement. No sound.
Then—he felt it.
A gaze.
Faint, almost imperceptible, but saturated with malice. It sent an uncontrollable wave of terror crawling down his spine.
It was as if something enormous loomed over him, staring down at his insignificant form.
But the door hadn’t opened. The peephole was one-way—there was no way for anything outside to see in.
So why could he feel it watching him?
Ruan Qing's heart clenched in dread. A terrible premonition crept over him as he slowly lowered his gaze toward the gap beneath the door.
A pool of liquid had already gathered there.
His eyes widened, his delicate face paling with panic as he stumbled backward instinctively.
The liquid was seeping in through the door crack!
[AHHHH! What the hell is this?! Holy shit! AHHHH! MY EYES!]
[Where are the comments?! Comment army, protect me!!! My trypophobia is acting up! What kind of nightmare fuel is this?!]
[Seriously?! Why the hell would they zoom in at a time like this?! Who wants to see a puddle full of countless EYES?! And they’re MOVING! AHHH!]
From a distance, the spreading liquid seemed harmless—just an ordinary wet stain.
But the live-stream feed captured every detail, even the water’s surface.
When the camera focused on it, the image magnified several times, revealing the horrifying truth.
The water was filled with... countless eyes.
Pale, lidless orbs like peeled egg whites, each with a pitch-black pupil floating inside.
They didn’t blink—how could they, without eyelids?—but the inky pupils writhed within their sockets, shifting unnaturally.
Dense, unblinking, every single one turned toward Ruan Qing.
A sight so grotesque it defied reason.
Though Ruan Qing couldn’t see the eyes in the water, the moment he noticed the creeping liquid, his scalp prickled. Cold sweat drenched him as primal terror seized his body.
It was an indescribable dread—the kind that accelerated his heartbeat, flooded his veins with adrenaline, yet left his limbs weak and useless.
Just a damp stain on the floor, yet it evoked the same overwhelming despair he’d felt facing a "god" in past dungeons. That same crushing insignificance, as if standing against the cosmos itself.
No resistance was possible. No defiance. Only fear, raw and all-consuming.
Whatever lurked beyond that door was beyond comprehension.
His lungs burned; every cell in his body screamed at him to run.
But there was no escape.
The room had only one exit—the door.
And it was right outside.
Ruan Qing stared rigidly at the water stains on the floor and spoke in his mind, 'System, did you choose this dungeon?'
[No.]
The System fell silent for several seconds before adding, [I’ve lost the authority to select dungeons.]
The water stains on the floor grew larger, spreading unnervingly toward Ruan Qing—an eerie sight that sent chills down his spine.
His lips pressed into a thin line, his face pale, his entire frame trembling with fragile helplessness. Yet his voice remained eerily calm. 'System… will I die here?'
The System stayed silent. This time, the other gave no answer at all.
Ruan Qing’s face lost even more color—not just from the System’s silence, but from the way the water stains continued multiplying.
Now, they had pooled together, creeping sluggishly in his direction.
Under normal circumstances, water on a flat surface should spread outward in all directions from the point where it dripped.
But this wasn’t happening at the door. Instead, the liquid seemed to flow downward toward Ruan Qing, as though his spot were the lowest point.
The problem was—it wasn’t.
Every hair on Ruan Qing’s body stood on end. Without thinking, he scrambled back to the far edge of the room.
He had to find a way out. If he didn’t, he might not survive the night.
Just as he considered desperately damaging the ship’s structure to escape, hollow footsteps echoed from outside the door.
The kind made by human strides.
Instinctively, Ruan Qing turned toward the entrance.
The water stains had vanished. The floor was spotless, as though everything had been nothing more than a hallucination.
No eerie dripping. No liquid seeping under the door.
Ruan Qing bit his lip uneasily. He knew it hadn’t been an illusion.
The dripping had been real. Whatever was outside the door had been real.
This cruise ship harbored something terrifying.
Only after confirming the stains were truly gone did Ruan Qing realize how weak his limbs felt. If not for the wall supporting him, he might have collapsed right then.
Leaning against the cold surface, he struggled to steady his ragged breathing.
That was because he had been holding his breath the entire time.
If not for the footsteps outside, he might have died right there.
The footsteps continued to approach slowly, seemingly heading straight toward Ruan Qing’s room.
His chest tightened. Was it… Lin Zhiyan returning?
The footsteps stopped right outside the door—but no one turned the handle. Whoever was out there wasn’t Lin Zhiyan.
The only thing Ruan Qing could be certain of was that the presence outside was most likely human.
There was a peephole in the door. Silently, Ruan Qing edged closer, trying to see who it was.
Pitch black. He couldn’t make out anything.
Was the peephole broken?
He looked again—still nothing but darkness. It really might be broken.
Just as Ruan Qing was puzzling over who could be outside, a chilling realization struck him.
The footsteps had stopped right in front of the door.
So what he was seeing…
His pupils contracted, his eyes widening in shock before he quickly stumbled backward, putting distance between himself and the door.
The peephole might not be broken at all. What he was seeing could very well be someone’s eye—the person outside was peering in through the peephole!
Peepholes were one-way. Ruan Qing had tested it earlier while inspecting the room—there was no way to see inside from the outside.
Meaning the person outside shouldn’t be able to see him.
Yet every hair on Ruan Qing’s body stood on end as he fixed his gaze rigidly on the door.
Then, suddenly—knocking.
A low, hoarse teenage voice followed.
“Hey, boss… you in there?”
Ruan Qing froze. That voice… it sounded like the boy named Qi Yi.
Was it really him outside?
But how had he known Ruan Qing was in this room?
When no response came, Qi Yi knocked again.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Ruan Qing had no intention of opening the door—but the knocking didn’t stop, relentless, as if the boy would keep at it until he got an answer.
Left with no choice, Ruan Qing finally replied.
If he delayed any longer, Lin Zhiyan would return.
Leaning against the door, Ruan Qing lowered his voice. "Sorry, you've got the wrong person. There's no one here you're looking for."
When he had disguised himself as a player before, Ruan Qing had used a voice different from Xia Qing's, so he wasn’t afraid of Qi Yi recognizing him.
He had expected Qi Yi to leave after hearing that. But the moment his words fell, a sharp beep sounded from the door—the electronic chime of a room key being used.
Ruan Qing froze, staring blankly at the door.
By the time he snapped back to his senses and tried to slam it shut, it was too late.
The door was pushed open.
The force was so strong that it sent him stumbling forward since he had still been leaning against it.
His eyes widened as he lost his balance, falling backward.
Qi Yi stood outside, clearly not expecting someone to be right behind the door. Instinctively, he reached out and grabbed Ruan Qing’s wrist.
Just as Ruan Qing let out a silent breath of relief, an icy voice cut through the air—unmistakably Lin Zhiyan’s.
"Have you been cheating on me after just a few minutes apart?"
