Going back to the dining hall to retrieve the phone now was clearly unrealistic.
The ghost inside had already transitioned from its initial newborn state into an adaptation phase.
At this moment, the sealed-off dining hall was unnervingly quiet.
Whatever was inside seemed to be hiding somewhere, lying in wait for the players to reappear.
If they opened the door now, there was no telling if they’d be ambushed—or worse, if the thing might escape.
Even though this ghost wasn’t particularly powerful yet, any injury it inflicted would still cause immediate necrosis.
No matter where the wound was, it would undoubtedly hinder their movement going forward.
Besides…
The group thought back to the earlier noises in the dining hall. The phone might already be destroyed.
There was really no point in risking another trip inside.
By now, it was almost 10 PM, and everyone ultimately decided to return to their rooms on the second floor.
When they reached the stairwell, the steps leading up to the third floor were pitch black, not a single sliver of light. The darkness above remained absolute.
As they walked down the hallway, Chang Zhao kept pace beside Wen Shichun and suggested, "Hey, maybe you should switch rooms and stay in Bo Ya’s old one?"
The moment the words left his mouth, he was met with a frosty glare from the E-rank player.
Chang Zhao chuckled awkwardly, realizing his idea wasn’t exactly well-received.
What he didn’t know was that Wen Shichun’s internal alarms were blaring.
Bo Ya just turned into a ghost, and this guy’s trying to trick me into staying in that room?!
Wen Shichun quickened his pace—but before he could get far, Yue Cheng caught up to him.
"Brother," he said earnestly, "I really think it’d be safer if you stayed with me. The room you’re in now… probably had a lot of people die in it before."
"That’s just how these dungeons are. Once night hits, all kinds of weird stuff starts happening—"
Wen Shichun: …!!!
Before Yue Cheng could finish, the white-haired "brother" sped up even more, striding straight to his room without another word.
Yue Cheng felt just a little heartbroken.
Finally, everyone returned to their own rooms.
...
By the time Wen Shichun lay down on his own bed, his mind had gone completely blank.
Those few short hours had felt like they might kill him.
His hand rested lightly on his chest, giving himself a few gentle pats.
Inhale—
Exhale.
Reason slowly returned.
After entering his room, he had turned on every single light in the bedroom.
And then thoroughly inspected the entire space one more time.
Now, after staring at the ceiling for a solid few minutes, Wen Shichun summoned his game panel.
He studied it for a while.
Only when the wall clock neared eleven did he finally call for the system.
The system, which seemed embedded in his mind, responded belatedly: [What do you want?]
Wen Shichun dismissed his game panel.
Earlier, he had browsed through some player posts in the forum.
From what he gathered, a player's system was supposed to be an extremely reliable presence in this world—
One that would, within the rules, fully serve its bound player.
After another deep breath, the man on the bed reconsidered the system's icy tone.
Now that he knew more, it even sounded somewhat... comforting.
For once, Wen Shichun spoke amiably: [Were you there all along?]
Again, several seconds passed before the reply came.
The system responded with a simple: [Mm.]
But even as it answered indifferently, it couldn’t help thinking—this host’s fear levels are a little too high.
And worse, they’re persistent.
This is borderline unhealthy.
So… is he scared? Looking for comfort by chatting with it?
The cold, detached system was already planning how to reject this kind of unnecessary service.
Then Wen Shichun asked: [You’ve been watching me the whole time?]
The system: […Mm.]
That’s it. Just mm.
Hopefully, he’ll take the hint and back off.
Wen Shichun thought back to the forum post mentioning high-end systems’ warning functions: [Do you… offer any other services?]
This system of his seemed pretty basic.
Definitely not high-end.
Might as well ask what it can do.
…
Here it comes.
He wants to chat.
It should firmly refuse.
But instead—
The system heard itself say: [What do you need?]
…
Wen Shichun blinked: [I need to rest for a bit.]
The indifferent system: [Then sleep.]
Wen Shichun wasn’t being greedy—he just asked: [If you notice anything wrong, will you wake me up?]
Just like an alarm clock, a simple nudge would do.
The system: [...]
Hah, as if.
The system: [Yes.]
?
Am I malfunctioning?
......
Hearing the system’s response, Wen Shichun closed his eyes, slightly reassured.
For some reason, ever since entering this dungeon, his body had been exhausted—like he hadn’t rested properly in days.
Which was strange, since he’d only just woken up in that ancient castle not long ago.
If not for his nerves being on high alert, he might’ve already collapsed somewhere and passed out.
Whatever.
No point overthinking it.
He’d sleep for a bit first—recharge his energy.
Otherwise, a few more shocks like the one earlier, and his face might just crack apart.
With that thought, the young man on the bed tugged the blanket up a little higher.
Until finally, he’d completely burrowed inside.
Watching the last tiny tuft of white hair still peeking out from the covers, the system on guard duty felt… complicated. [...]
I really want to…
***
In the first bedroom on the right, separated from Wen Shichun’s room by a stairwell, Xun Yi let the curtain fall back into place.
Outside, the snow was coming down harder and harder. Unless something unexpected happened, by tomorrow, the grounds would be buried—trapping them inside this mansion.
And down in the first-floor dining room, a ghost was locked away… one that could break out at any moment.
Xun Yi closed the curtains and opened the team interface in the dungeon.
Then, he selected a name and sent a message:
[This isn’t what we agreed on from the start.]
After sending it, he leaned against the window, waiting for a reply.
A long moment passed.
Only then did a new notification pop up on his screen:
[Don’t worry. I’ll get you out of the dungeon.]
But the message did nothing to ease the frown on the man’s face.
The moment the train failed to stop at the designated area as planned, he’d already sensed something was wrong.
He hated dungeons with too many outside variables.
Xun Yi took off his glasses, and the world before him instantly shifted from an eerie dark blue back to normal colors.
The effect of the glasses had been removed.
After a brief pause, he sent another message:
[What about the ghost in the team?]
This time, the reply came quickly:
[You already know the answer, don’t you?]
Xun Yi’s frown deepened as he stared at the words on the screen.
They were simple enough, but something about them felt... off.
It was as if he could picture the sender’s face—twisted into an unnatural smile.
With a sharp motion, he snapped the interface shut.
Better not to let it affect him.
***
On the first night of the dungeon, no sane player could sleep soundly.
Most stayed awake, bracing through the deadliest hours.
Outside the mansion, shadows of distant trees swayed, revealing lights still burning in many of the second-floor rooms.
Light filtered through the curtains, faintly outlining shapes in the gloom.
But before long, on the side where four rooms had been lit, the light in the second room from the left suddenly went out.
Perhaps due to some unknown exhaustion weighing on his body, the person sleeping in that darkened room didn’t wake despite the change.
Instead, he sank even deeper into sleep, swallowed by the pitch black.
Then, at exactly 4 AM—
A flicker of light pulsed against his closed eyelids.
Only then did the man on the bed open his eyes.
His body reacted faster than his mind.
In less than a second, Wen Shichun pushed himself upright on the large bed.
And there, directly across from him—
The desktop computer, which should have been powered off, was now inexplicably turned on.
A pale blue glow from the monitor spilled into the dim room.
His awareness sharpened—
His hand, resting beside him, abruptly clenched into a fist.
The veins beneath his fair skin stood out, taut with tension.
Who turned off the lights in his room—?!
The beauty on the bed wore an expression of icy fury.
The blanket that had been covering him now lay tangled on the floor, one corner nearly reaching the bathroom door.
—Someone had been inside his room.
His freshly awakened mind raced.
But before he could process further—
Three crisp, piercing beeps echoed through the silent space.
"Beep—beep—beep—"
The sound was so abrupt, so jarring, it felt unnaturally sinister in the darkened room.
Wen Shichun’s gaze locked onto the illuminated screen.
At the top of the display, in the open chat window—
New text had appeared.
Wen Shichun ignored it all, his chillingly expressionless face betraying nothing.
His body shifted slightly.
Moving toward the edge of the bed.
His right hand reached out.
To turn on the lamp on the nightstand.
Click.
The light didn’t turn on.
Click—
This time, his finger pressed the switch harder.
Still nothing.
……
"Beep—beep—beep—"
Another string of text appeared in the chatbox on the desktop monitor.
Having already settled on the edge of the bed, Wen Shichun finally gave up and stood.
As his feet touched the carpet, his entire body tensed.
Then, he walked toward the deep red hardwood desk where the computer sat.
The wooden chair that had been beside the bed was now placed in front of the desk—as if waiting just for him.
Wen Shichun stopped in front of the computer.
He had no intention of sitting down.
To his left, the bathroom door, previously shut, now stood slightly ajar.
The glow from the screen spilled toward the doorway, failing to illuminate the darkness beyond.
His ice-blue eyes fixed on the chat window in front of him.
The sender’s avatar on the left was a default software icon—a gray human silhouette against a black background.
So… the computer had internet now?
Wen Shichun moved the mouse and clicked on the wireless network icon in the upper right corner of the screen.
The previously empty signal box now displayed a single available network:
allofyouwilldie
The same network this desktop was connected to.
"Beep—beep—beep—"
When the third message came through the chat app, Wen Shichun could almost feel the other party’s impatience and irritation.
On the screen, the three messages appeared in order:
1. 'Hello, Xiao Shi.'
—Sent the moment he first looked at the screen after waking up.
2. 'Stop trying. It won’t turn on.'
—Sent when he attempted to switch on the bedside lamp.
And the latest one—
3. 'Xiao Shi, why are you ignoring me?'
...
His temple throbbed as he read the last message.
This thing—
If it wanted to send messages, fine.
But while the rest of the text was in plain black, that question mark at the end was deliberately in blood-red.
It was trying to scare him.
Wen Shichun took a deep breath.
He had no doubt that if he didn’t reply now, those relentless beeps would continue.
By the time his fingers touched the keyboard, his back had long gone numb.
That thing was watching him.
And he—he couldn’t sense its location at all.
'Hello.'
Wen Shichun saw the profile picture that popped up on the right side of the chatbox.
It was a photo of himself.
And the background of the photo— was the study at the end of the third-floor hallway.
His mind went blank with a deafening buzz.
The face in the picture looked unnaturally pale, washed out from overexposure when it was taken.
Wen Shichun remembered the blinding white flash—the last thing he saw before being pulled into that strange space, just as that thing had lurched toward him.
The photo had been taken in that moment.
And now, it was the profile picture of the account logged into thi\s chat program.
His spine stiffened, fingers twitching slightly over the mouse.
This time, he moved the cursor to the top-left corner of the screen.
When he clicked to open the device information—
where the username had once displayed "LZ"—
it now showed a single letter: "S".
Before long, another message came through.
‘Xiao Shi… are you scared?’
