Chapter 3

The live comments were full of praise.

"I'm declaring the Slit-Mouthed Woman my new favorite! I'm heading straight to SpiritStream to vote for her!"

"It's a shame the other brides didn't keep up with her styling. If they had, this instance would've looked even better."

"Slit-Mouthed Woman, please make this look permanent!"

Seeing the compliments made me swell with pride. I was just a small, no-name makeup artist on the set, usually stuck doing makeup for minor roles.

Everyone said my style was too bold—too mysterious and eerie—and just didn't fit with heroic characters.

I never imagined it would be so well received in a horror game. This was the first time my work had earned this much recognition.

As the game approached its end, the Slit-Mouthed Woman returned. Her eyes lit up the moment she saw me. "By the way, what's your name?"

"Luna Frost."

"Okay, Luna. I've already spoken to the boss. We're hiring you as the permanent makeup artist for our instance!"

"I…"

I was about to say no, but the words died on my lips when she mentioned the salary they were offering.

"You'll earn a monthly salary of ten thousand, plus a one-thousand-dollar commission per ghost NPC per time."

My jaw nearly dropped.

As a low-level makeup artist on a film set, I worked myself to the bone each month just to earn five thousand. Even if this was a horror game, money was money. Ghosts or not, there was no way I was turning down that pay.

"Is your in-game currency the same as the living world?" I asked.

"Don't worry," she said. "We go through Aether Bank. It's connected to all major banks, so you can send it directly to your account."

I relaxed. "Perfect."

"The instance runs once a week. The ghosts arrive a few hours before the players, and that's when you do the makeup."

She handed me a stylish wrist device.

"This is a summoning device. When it lights up, bring your makeup kit and come to work."

I secured the device around my wrist. When I looked up, the world around me had already shifted. I was standing in the middle of a crowded city street.

Everything that had just happened felt unreal, like a fading dream. The summoning device on my wrist was the only proof that it had all been real.

My phone rang all of a sudden. I answered, only to hear my superior, Jenny Sawyer, shout furiously, "Luna Frost, where have you been? Why aren't you here yet?"

I grabbed my makeup case and bolted instinctively. "I'm on my way! Traffic was terrible. I'm running—"

She snapped, "Do whatever you want! With your pathetic skills, you can't even do decent makeup for a terrible actor. If it weren't for my leniency, you would've been gone a long time ago!"

Her cutting words made me falter. This wasn't the first time she had put me down. Every actor I had worked with loved the looks I created for them. And yet, Jenny never stopped undermining me, as if keeping me beneath her somehow proved her own worth.

I had been rising before sunrise, slogging through long days for barely half a wage, all while taking her endless verbal abuse. I was done.

"Fine, fire me!" I said firmly. "I've already gotten a new job where my skills are actually valued. You may never recognize me, but someone else will."

"You—"

Before she could finish, I hung up. The thrill of confidence hit me with full force. Ironically, it sprang from the one horror game everyone else avoided.

…

To master my craft and do my job well as the horror game's makeup artist, I spent the week studying and trying out different ghost-ready makeup looks.

When the summoning device blinked to life a week later, I grabbed my makeup case and stepped into the instance.

Before me stood a row of brides. Alongside the Slit-Mouthed Woman were wraiths, ghouls, and vampires.