***
Bonus chapter! Thank you to --- for the donation! ^^
***
"Ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling."
The ringing continued, sharp and unrelenting, sending chills down his spine and stirring a deep, primal fear within him.
University lights-out was at 11 PM, and it was long past that now—the entire campus was enveloped in silence.
In such stillness, even the faintest sound would be jarring, let alone in an empty classroom with only one person inside.
Ruan Qing’s delicate face paled, his body stiffening as his mind screamed at him to run.
But running wouldn’t help.
This dungeon was called Death Call—clearly, everything began with this late-night phone call. There was no way to escape death just by refusing to answer.
And worse, this dungeon had undergone some unknown changes, meaning it was undoubtedly even more dangerous than before.
"Ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling."
The phone kept ringing, relentless, as if it would never stop until he picked up—its shrill tone like a vengeful ghost coming to claim his life.
Ruan Qing’s grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles turned white. He bit down hard on his lower lip, using the pain to force himself to stay calm.
No matter how deadly a dungeon was, it would never kill a player the moment they entered. This was only the first night—he still had a chance.
Suppressing his terror, he shakily raised the phone.
On the screen were two options: Answer or Decline. Above them was an unfamiliar number, labeled Unknown Caller.
Most importantly, the time displayed at the top read 23:58.
It wasn’t midnight yet. Even if it was just two minutes away, it didn’t meet the Death Call’s criteria.
This wasn’t the call mentioned in the dungeon’s briefing.
Ruan Qing’s tense nerves eased slightly. Only then did he notice how stiff his body was, his forehead damp with cold sweat, his lower lip bitten raw, a faint trace of blood seeping out.
The mere presence of a vengeful ghost always unnerved him.
Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself and answered the call.
But before he could speak, an angry voice, thick with suppressed fury, came through:
"I never thought you were this kind of person. We’re done."
Most people saw through the original owner’s clumsy flirting, but a rare few had actually fallen for it.
For example, the person calling him right now.
Of course, it wasn’t just this one man—he was merely one of many.
The man had probably seen the screenshots in the group chat and realized he’d been scammed by the original owner.
Hearing the furious tone on the other end, Ruan Qing actually felt a wave of relief. He lowered his voice and spoke.
"...Let me explain."
Perhaps because he hadn’t spoken in a while, his voice carried a faint, husky rasp.
His tone was naturally cool and detached, but with that added roughness, it took on an inexplicably seductive quality—smooth and captivating, as if it could melt straight into the listener’s heart.
The man on the other end had been ready to hang up after his outburst, but the moment that voice reached his ears, his finger froze mid-air. His heart skipped a beat without warning.
So… so damn pleasing to the ear.
This scumbag’s voice was actually this mesmerizing? So much so that it made him… lose his composure.
With the phone pressed close, that slight roughness made it sound like a lover’s drowsy murmur against his ear.
The man’s ears burned faintly red. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to end the call. He forced out a cold reply: "...Then explain."
Realizing how weak that sounded, he stiffly added, his tone harsh, "If you don’t give me a proper explanation, we’re done. And you’re paying back every cent you borrowed."
Ruan Qing had expected the call to be cut off immediately. He never imagined the other man would actually demand an explanation, leaving him momentarily speechless.
The accusations were undeniably true—the original owner had done all those things, and the group chat had already exposed the evidence, leaving no room for denial. Ruan Qing had no idea how to talk his way out of this.
The silence stretched too long. Impatient, the man snapped, "Well? Explain. What, cat got your tongue?"
"No explanation? Then pay up."
Explain? How was he supposed to explain? His earlier words had just been a stalling tactic.
This was Ruan Qing’s first time dealing with a situation like this—it was like being forced to argue that a nailed-down fact wasn’t true at all.
Gritting his teeth, he blurted out, "Those screenshots in the group are fake. They photoshopped them to frame me. I never harassed anyone, and I don’t even know what I did to make them target me."
He resorted to the original owner’s usual tricks and script: "If others don’t believe me, fine—but you? Shouldn’t you trust me? We haven’t been together long, but you must’ve felt how much I care about you. My feelings for you… they’re real."
"‘Real’?"
The man didn’t confirm or deny it. Instead, he let out a faint, cold chuckle before lowering his voice and asking, "Then do you know my name?"
Ruan Qing: "..."
Truthfully, he had no idea.
The original owner had been in relationships with at least three different people, and they had only ever chatted through text—never a single phone call, not even a shared phone number.
The man hadn’t dropped a single clue about his identity in his earlier words, so of course, Ruan Qing couldn’t answer.
In the end, he could only awkwardly reply, "Of course I know. You’re my dearest baby."
The original owner had flirted with so many people that even he couldn’t keep track of who was who. To avoid mixing them up, he just called everyone "baby."
Cheesy. Cringeworthy.
Yet, when those disgustingly sweet words spilled from Ruan Qing’s lips, they carried a weight that made hearts skip a beat. His cool, detached voice wrapped around the word "baby" like a lover’s whisper—like sinful music to the ears.
No one disliked sweet nothings, and no one could resist them when spoken in that voice.
The man knew full well that Ruan Qing was spouting nonsense. He knew this guy had no clue who he was. But the moment he heard "baby," his grip on the phone tightened involuntarily, and his body reacted in ways it shouldn’t.
His so-called "boyfriend" had a voice that was too pleasing—not just for speaking, but for making… other, even more enticing sounds.
Eyes darkening, the man glanced at the number on his screen but didn’t press further. Instead, he brought the phone back to his ear and asked another question.
"So… I’m the one you love the most?"
His tone no longer held anger, as if he’d accepted this flimsy excuse—maybe even forgiven Ruan Qing.
Hopelessly lovesick.
After a brief pause, Ruan Qing answered, "...Yes."
"Then say you love me." The man’s voice was low, roughened with something unspoken.
"I love you." This time, Ruan Qing didn’t hesitate—though his words lacked any real emotion.
A long silence followed, so prolonged that Ruan Qing wondered if the call had disconnected.
He checked the screen. The timer was still ticking. The line was still open.
The man said nothing. Ruan Qing stayed quiet too.
The empty classroom fell into suffocating silence, broken only by the sound of Ruan Qing’s breathing.
Right now, he was completely alone.
The reason he was still in the classroom at this late hour was simple—after sneaking into the school, the original owner had been using it as a makeshift bedroom at night.
Posing as a college student wasn’t hard, but getting into a dormitory was another matter. This classroom was the best spot the original owner could find.
Time passed indistinctly until the man’s voice sounded again, laced with hesitation and doubt:
"Do you really love me?"
It was almost baffling. The original owner’s schemes had already crashed and burned spectacularly—how could the man on the other end of the line still be asking something like this?
Then again, if the guy had been even remotely normal, he wouldn’t have fallen for the original owner’s lies in the first place.
But Ruan Qing was the original owner now. Gritting his teeth, he forced out a reply: "Yes."
"Then…" The man’s voice turned tentative, almost shy. "Can you moan for me?"
Ruan Qing: "…?"
A flicker of stunned confusion crossed Ruan Qing’s striking eyes. For a second, he wondered if he’d misheard. He glanced down at the call screen, long lashes fluttering slightly.
…Surely, he’d imagined that?
The man’s next words shattered that hope.
"I want to hear you moan."
His voice dropped lower, smooth and oddly persuasive. "If you love me, you’d do it, wouldn’t you?"
Ruan Qing: "…?"
Even without a response, the man grew increasingly assertive, his tone shifting to something demanding. "Moan for me, and I’ll forgive you."
"You need money, right? Keep going, and I’ll keep lending it to you."
When Ruan Qing stayed silent, the man’s patience thinned. "Hurry up."
Ruan Qing: "…"
This guy’s out of his damn mind.
Expressionless, Ruan Qing ended the call—consequences for breaking character be damned.
Wrecking the act for one person was a risk he could take.
Besides, the original owner had barely shown his face to these so-called "partners." No one would suspect he wasn’t the same person just because he hung up.
"Ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling—"
The shrill ringtone pierced the empty classroom again. The caller ID flashed the same name.
Clearly, the man hadn’t given up.
Ruan Qing didn’t want to answer. He had no intention of entertaining the man’s twisted demands, so he simply hung up.
Yet the phone continued to ring relentlessly, as if it wouldn’t stop until he picked up.
Ruan Qing grabbed his phone again, ready to reject the call and block the number for good. But just before his finger could swipe to end it, his hand froze midair.
This wasn’t the man calling.
The number flashing on the screen was—4444. (T/N: 4444: Chinese often associates the number "4" with death.)
A normal phone number had eleven digits. Even special service numbers weren’t just four digits.
This… was a call from a vengeful ghost.
Ruan Qing’s heart lurched to a stop, then began racing uncontrollably. His entire body broke out in goosebumps, his blood turning to ice in his veins. His mind went blank.
Staring at the call screen, his pupils contracted. The numbers seemed to wobble, distorting before his eyes, growing larger and larger.
The swaying, expanding digits overlapped in dizzying layers, blurring his vision. His pupils lost focus.
His slender, pale fingers twitched—then slowly, helplessly, began inching toward the answer button.
