Horror Game Looks Cute Novels & Stories

The stench of death hung in the air, Mike’s black ooze slowly seeping into the carpet. I forced myself to stay calm, my eyes scanning the rapidly scrolling chat. 【Wait, I think this is a word game!】 【What do you mean?】 【I’ve played horror games like this before. The Boss twists your wish! That guy said he wanted to ‘expose’ the Boss, and the Boss stripped all the flesh from his bones.】 【Holy crap, so how do you beat it?】

Though still ancient tech that hadn’t been updated for a thousand years, at least it was up to date. The right side of the new home page on the game panel showed his status in full. And on the top left corner of the screen was a mini chibi full-body icon of him. The style was gothic but also cute, totally on brand with the Trial's dark fairy tale vibe. His avatar had a red hoodie on, one that looked exactly like the one Alice left in the Hollow Log. The only difference between him and his avatar was the black snake tattoo on his left wrist. It became alive in the icon, and not just sitting there, it was raising its head, sniffing around, and even hissing at him like it had got beef.

“Did I enter the wrong room? Is this even a horror game? I thought I clicked an otome game!” Everyone was stunned, and just like that, under the players’ watchful eyes, he carried me upstairs.

I’m the heroine in an erotic story. My specialty? Turning anything hot or cold into something steamy. On the first day I landed in a horror game, the boss told everyone to choose how they wanted to die. I smiled and said, “I’ll take shortness of breath, trembling legs, glazed eyes, and… pleasure so intense I die from it.” Boss: “???”

I couldn’t make out the building’s details or the faces of the people around me, just vague human shapes. Somewhere nearby, a timid girl started crying. “W-Where are we? I want to go home.” A guy with yellow-dyed hair shouted impatiently, “What the hell is this? Let me out!” Then a man and a woman stepped forward, looking calmer than the rest. They introduced themselves as veteran players—Elaine and Jethro—and kindly explained what was going on. We were inside an infinite horror game. Everyone here was already dead. If we could survive every scenario and collect the legendary 9,999 points, we’d be revived.

I was in the wrong game? This was a horror game, not an otome romance? In just a few seconds, every strange detail suddenly made sense.

" I stayed silent, but that did not deter them. They started ramming the door. I pressed my back against it, looking at my unconscious mother in the bedroom, and closed my eyes. A living hell on earth was worse than any horror game. When humans start killing each other, they were more terrifying than monsters. ... Meanwhile, a group of bosses gathered in the empty supermarket, staring at each other in confusion. "Uhm, where's Ms Thrushwood?" one of them asked. "She's always punctual. Even on restock days when the shop's closed, she tells us ahead of time," another commented.

The ghosts looked fully recharged, lounging around in small groups and staring at me with bright, expectant eyes. A cold, mechanical voice rang in my head. "Game completion reaches 100%. Congratulations on clearing the game, Player. You will be logged out in ten minutes." I froze and was utterly stunned that everything had gone by in just a brief blur. Though it was a horror game, it felt like I was just here working part-time. With a sigh, I put on my brightest smile. "Free hugs limited to one per ghost. Anyone?"

"This place isn't like the living world. Skincare and makeup products are scarce, and only the rich can afford them. "In our horror game, the cosmetics are provided by the studio, but because our instance performs so poorly, our budget is tiny. That's why our makeup never looks good and fails to draw in viewers." I caught a word in her explanation. "Viewers?" She gave a small clap. "Exactly. The live comments in horror games aren't from humans—they come from ghosts watching the stream. It's the same as how you humans watch reality shows." I raised a brow. "So there are a lot of ghosts tuning in?"

"Mrs. Gable, Brenda is an infected ghoul. Her internal organs are mostly decorative at this point." "Still," Mrs. Gable hummed, adjusting her sweater as she shuffled off toward the stairs. "It’s impolite to ignore a neighbor." "Next!" I called out. Next up was Gamer Guy from Apt 201—a twitchy twenty-year-old named Leo wearing an oversized hoodie and sweatpants. He was clutching a heavy canvas duffel bag like a sacred artifact. "Lena! Sister! My savior!" Leo babbled, stepping up to the stool. "Tell me you have double-A batteries! My wireless gaming mouse died right before the apocalypse hit, and I have five off-line single-player RPGs saved on my custom rig!"