Chapter 075: Tales of the Dread Night

Lines of blood seemed to condense into words on the surface of the phone screen, thick and vivid as though the crimson might spill out at any moment, dazzling and lurid.

“Nightmare instance triggered. Scenario generated. The game begins…”

Current Scenario: Tales of the Dreadful Night
Number of Players: 1
Game Mode: Puzzle-solving
Scenario Description: On a tranquil night, a group of weary travelers arrives at a century-old inn, warmly welcomed by the innkeeper’s wife. Yet on this nightmare-ridden night, one bizarre event follows another, and the toll of death’s bell draws near. Look—there’s a shadow behind you…

Clear Condition: Unravel the mysteries and survive until dawn.

The corners of Su Cheng’s mouth twitched fiercely—so much for a relaxing getaway; it looked like this trip would turn into a night of terror.

What a pain.

“Puzzle-solving mode? My items and abilities seem to be sealed. That means I can’t brute-force my way through this instance.” He noticed that all the item and skill icons in the game had turned gray, as if sealed by some mysterious force, rendering them temporarily unusable.

In this state, Su Cheng could no longer use items to repel the spirits or monsters lurking in the inn.

“This persimmon is really sweet.”

Miyazaki Daisuke didn’t even notice that what dripped from the persimmon in his hand wasn’t juice but blood. After eating the flesh, he spat out a blood-red seed and gave a satisfied belch.

Su Cheng eyed Miyazaki Daisuke curiously, wondering if he’d be clutching his stomach in pain soon.

“Are you traveling with your girlfriend?” A young woman in an open-necked sweater sat cross-legged among the group of tourists, probing gently.

“I’m traveling alone, just to clear my mind.”

“I see.” Her eyes lit up, catching the scent of a single man; she sidled closer to Su Cheng, her posture subtly emphasizing her figure. “We’re climbing Mount Fuji at sunrise tomorrow. Would you like to join us?”

A strong perfume stung Su Cheng’s senses. His gaze happened to sweep over her and caught sight of a scar on her chest—though, on closer inspection, it seemed drawn with eyeliner.

Clearly, she was a seasoned flirt, but her tricks had little effect on Su Cheng.

“Sorry, I have other plans tomorrow.”

Seeing him refuse so decisively, the girl pouted in disgruntlement, muttering under her breath, “How boring.”

“Haha, who would have thought even Chizuko could be rebuffed?” Yoshizawa, fiddling with his DSLR, looked on in schadenfreude at Chizuko’s failed attempt.

It seemed Chizuko wasn’t especially popular among them.

After chatting for a while, Su Cheng learned that they were all photography enthusiasts from a club, gathering monthly at Mount Fuji to photograph the sunrise.

“You must be a bachelor too, huh? Women are just too much trouble,” said Miyazaki Daisuke, pushing up his black-rimmed glasses with a look of deep understanding.

“What bachelor? Daisuke, you just can’t get a girlfriend because you’re too fat,” Chizuko snapped, her tone sharp and disdainful.

Miyazaki Daisuke was long used to Chizuko’s barbs; he only scratched his head awkwardly.

“So, every time you come to shoot, you stay at this inn. Have you ever seen a black-haired boy, around five or six years old?”

At Su Cheng’s question, the atmosphere instantly stilled. The living room fell silent; all eyes were on him. He noticed a few girls’ faces had paled with fear, as if something had truly frightened them.

“You… You can see that child?” Yoshizawa’s mouth twitched, his expression stiff and his voice changed.

From their reactions, Su Cheng was certain they knew something.

With some careful prodding, he finally drew the tale from Yoshizawa’s lips—a tale of terror surrounding this century-old inn.

“A strange disappearance once occurred here. The innkeeper’s six-year-old son, Genta, vanished without a trace while playing alone inside. Nearby surveillance showed the boy never left the inn, but despite the police combing every inch, there was no sign of the missing child.”

“Not long after, something bizarre happened. Every night, the sound of a child’s laughter echoed through the house. It’s said a guest once got up late to use the restroom and saw the missing boy standing in the hallway, staring straight at him.”

“The guest was so terrified he fell ill for weeks. Word of ghosts spread, drawing thrill-seekers and truth-chasers alike. Many thought it was all a ruse by the owner to attract attention.”

Yoshizawa paused, an unmistakable terror flickering in his eyes. “But three years ago, something truly horrific happened.”

“A group of paranormal enthusiasts checked into the inn, and that very night, every member committed suicide—by methods too gruesome to imagine.”

“Gruesome?” Su Cheng’s brow furrowed, signaling Yoshizawa to continue.

“One of them, for example, stabbed himself over thirty times with a blunt knife, each wound missing any vital organ. He finally died from blood loss and shock.”

It was a slow, torturous end—most who wish to die would choose a painless way, not this madness, unless driven by self-loathing or worse.

“The others all killed themselves in bizarre ways, but the police found no evidence of murder and closed the case as suicide.”

As Yoshizawa spoke, Su Cheng felt that something was off, though he couldn’t name it.

“Afterward, no more guests came, and the inn soon closed. A year ago, the owner died of illness, and Miss Sayo bought the place and reopened it.”

Miss Sayo, now the innkeeper, was, bizarrely, the widow of one of those paranormal enthusiasts.

“They say if the boy’s ghost ever asks you to play with him, you must never agree—or he’ll devour your soul,” Yoshizawa warned in all seriousness.

Su Cheng thought to himself that it was already too late—he’d already agreed to play with the boy.

“That’s just a legend. There’s no way ghosts exist,” Chizuko forced a strained smile.

Behind her, a shadow passed silently by.