Chapter 1

A moment earlier, I was clutching my makeup case and sprinting toward the film set. The next thing I knew, the world flipped, and I was hauled into a horror game instance called The Devil's Bride.

Before I could even figure out what was going on, an angry shout suddenly came from the room ahead.

"What do you mean the makeup artist reincarnated or something? Then what am I supposed to do about my bridal makeup?

"Our instance has ranked dead last three times in a row already. If there's no makeup or styling, our ratings are definitely going to tank again. The players are about to enter the instance. Where am I supposed to find another makeup artist now?"

I was a little confused by the first part, but that last sentence instantly snapped me into work mode.

As a dedicated, hardworking makeup artist, hustling for jobs was part of my daily routine.

I knocked on the door immediately and volunteered. "Are you looking for a makeup artist? That's me!"

Silence settled over the room. Moments later, the door slowly opened.

A young woman with delicate features and a mask covering her face appeared in front of me.

Was she an NPC in a horror game? She didn't look threatening at all.

She sized me up from head to toe, her expression full of suspicion. "Are you a player?"

I nodded sincerely. "Do you want bridal makeup? I've handled many weddings before. I can make you look truly beautiful."

"Beautiful?"

A trace of mockery flickered through her eyes. "That word has nothing to do with me."

She pulled off her mask. Long, jagged gashes split open on both sides of her mouth, nearly reaching all the way to her ears.

"Do you still think I'm beautiful?"

Contrary to her expectations, I showed no sign of panic or disgust at all. I simply smiled and nodded.

"Yes, you're very beautiful."

I looked at her with a gentle smile. "Every woman has her own kind of beauty. You just need more confidence. As for the less perfect parts, makeup can help refine them. That's not a big problem."

Many of my clients struggled with appearance anxiety. When someone lacked confidence, I knew a negative reaction was the last thing I should show. That was just professional ethics.

The Slit-Mouthed Woman froze, clearly caught off guard by my response.

Her smile disappeared, and she sank into the chair with a heavy thud. "Forget it. I might as well try anything at this point. Go ahead and do my makeup. The goal isn't beauty—it has to be eerie and scary. Viewers love watching players lose it."

I thought about her unusual request for a moment. "Honestly, I don't think beauty and creepiness have to clash. The obvious way to scare people is with grotesque, horrifying makeup, but there's a more effective approach—when you look beautiful yet still inspire pure fear. You may look innocent, but in truth, you're a flower blooming in the dark, nourished by the corpses around you.

"When players stumble helplessly into your traps, you clap with glee, your face twisted into a crazed smile, the slits at the corners of your mouth stretching as if they could devour them. That shocking contrast is exactly the kind of thing viewers love to see."

The Slit-Mouthed Woman stared at me like I was a psychopath. "Are you really a player? I'm the monster here, but why do I feel like you're more twisted than I am?"

I scratched my head in embarrassment. "I used to do makeup for film sets, so I tend to analyze characters. When we design makeup and styling for actors, we have to understand the essence of the character first. Only then can we create the most fitting look for them."

"That sounds kind of risky…" She thought about it for a moment. "But whatever. We're already ranked last anyway. It can't get any worse."

With a completely resigned expression, she said, "Let's do it your way."

"Got it!"

I opened my makeup case and started by prepping the Slit-Mouthed Woman's skin with some moisturizer.