Novel & Cerita Dead Man's Phone Game

Then, she paled and shrieked in fear. She pulled out her phone and made a call, the shakiness of her voice a testament to how terrified she was. "Hello? Yes, someone has just died here! Yes… The address is…" After hanging up, she patted her chest and glanced at me. Then, she turned away. Suddenly, she remembered something, and her expression turned conflicted. After a brief hesitation, she made another call. "Mr. Gary…" She walked away. I wasn't interested in what she had to say, so I didn't follow her. She only returned after some time and stood before me. She put her hands together and muttered to herself.

A treacherous part of me still loved the man he was supposed to be. Dammit, I still loved the liar. "I'll give him one last chance," I said, pulling my hands back. The Elder sighed in relief and stepped back. My heart pounded as I reached out to Ford through our mind-link. It took him a long time to answer. "Shelly?" His voice was tight with impatience, the tinny sound of a TV buzzing in the background. "Starlight," I said, my voice hoarse. It was our private code, our promise.

Even so, her hands began to undress, though painfully slowly. “Doing it on purpose?” Damien raised an eyebrow and continued, “If you don’t want to, you can always choose again.” There was no choice at all, but he spoke as if giving her many. Just as Emma thought there was no way she would escape tonight, suddenly the phone rang, shattering the strange tension. Damien ignored the phone, his eyes still fixed on Emma. “Keep going.” But the ringing wouldn’t stop. The long tone made Damien impatient. He frowned, picked up the phone, his voice cold and dangerous, every word carrying a chill that could freeze the blood.

"Hurry up, the Boss is dying …" Before she could finish, her phone suddenly flew out of her hands. Yara looked up with her gaze firmly locked on her phone before finally resting on the bathrobe-clad Timothy. The man looked down at the phone screen displaying a group of players surrounding a tree stump with eyes and a mouth. The game's various skills and weapons were flying across the screen. The man on the other end of the line urged, "Babe, sweetheart, what are you doing? Move a little. You're going to get me killed if you just stand around like that. My HP is going to be sucked dry if you don't hurry."

"Help! Where am I? I want to go home!" I heard a woman screaming. As I crawled up from the ground, the system announcement sounded from the speakers. "Welcome, honored players. Congratulations on being selected to join the Death Game. This instance, named 'Deserted Island Amusement Park,' is rated nine stars in difficulty. Players, do your best to stay alive." As the sound of the announcement faded, the phones of the more than 20 people present lit up simultaneously, mine included.

Dea, who was lying on the bed, suddenly felt the urge to turn on her phone, which was previously turned off. For some reason, something was bothering her. The flat device, once lifeless, was now brought back to life by the woman. She gazed at the screen with an expressionless face, assuming there was nothing there. However, her assumption was wrong. There were several messages and calls from an unfamiliar number. Yet, Dea knew it was Mr. Bad. She immediately started reading the messages.

“Farò esplodere questo posto. Ucciderò voi tutti. Vi seppellirò con le mani nude.” (I’m watching my woman cry and I swear—I’ll blow this place apart. I’ll kill you all. I’ll bury you with my bare hands.) One of the guards behind him shifted, then let out a small, cruel laugh. “Watch.” Dominic’s head turned slowly. The man stepped forward, pulling a sleek black phone from his pocket with a smug little smile like he was about to show him a magic trick. He tapped the screen once, twice, then lifted it to his ear.

He sat at the table I’d booked, just in front of the shop, and pulled an old cellphone from his bag, his eyes flipping around as he pressed the buttons. My lip slipped free from my teeth as my phone buzzed. I glanced down at the screen where his name "Dead Man" displayed. Of course, he was already dead before I came here, but he had looked a lot younger in all the pictures Venice had shown me. Scarier, too. I twisted the silencer onto my pistol and steadied myself before stepping out. His face brightened the moment I sat across from him, then twisted into confusion. “Mr. Igor,” I said, pushing my hood down.

And it might be that girl who was running away. They stroked the nozzle of their riffles to his face but the man didn't wake up. "He is dead," one said. "Yes he is," the other replied. The illetirates didn't even know that he won't wake up just by stroking their riffles to his face. Suddenly, she heard a phone ringing and one of them picked it up. "Hello," Someone replied from the other side of phone to which he looked at his partner and soon he hung up the call.

A hundred times, until blood pooled on the ground. "So what she said was right. You never loved me." Eve choked out, before finally taking her last breath. As the world was about to disappear, Shane quickly called upon the System in his mind. "Take me to Janine's world." "Understood, Host. However, I have to remind you: this is your last chance to finish a mission. I trust you know the consequences of failure." "Fine." Shane was also a transmigrator. His goal was to revive his wife, Celine, and his mission was to harm Janine.