Horror Game Designer

Chapter 8: The Return of Strange Tales

“You say this house is dangerous, but isn’t it just a normal home?” With a bold and challenging demeanor as if seeking danger, Gao Ming only heightened the investigator’s worry.

“The former occupant of apartment 2507 took their own life. You shouldn’t stay here just because the rent is affordable,” the investigator cautioned, his face so disfigured it was unreadable. Yet, his urgent tone unmistakably conveyed a grave problem with apartment 2507.

“Why? Was Brother Zhao’s death not a mere accident but rather a homicide?”

“Don’t inquire about it!” Sweat beaded on the investigator’s scarred face as he gestured towards his own gruesome features. “If you don’t want to end up like this, leave at once!”

Clearly, the investigator knew something, which only further sparked Gao Ming’s interest. “You need to provide us with a reason.”

Being asked to move out abruptly is naturally disagreeable for anyone.

“Not just you, everyone on this floor needs to relocate temporarily until the cause of the oddity is determined.” Having encountered Gao Ming the night before, the disfigured investigator was aware of his skepticism. “You overcame the Rainy Night Killer, and I acknowledge your courage, but some perils are unseen! These entities are behind the numerous murders in the old city port region!”

“These entities are…” Gao Ming squinted his eyes. While most would be terrified by the investigator’s appearance, he found him fascinating.

“The more you know, the more they’re drawn to you. My actions and words are for your protection. I hope you’ll trust me.” The investigator implored earnestly, but Gao Ming and Xuan Wen were unconvinced. “You won’t believe it until you come face to face with your own coffin, will you?”

Gao Ming slowly bowed his head. It was uncertain if he would weep at the sight of a “coffin,” but he knew Xuan Wen wouldn’t, just as she wouldn’t in a capsule hotel.

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“If you truly won’t leave, then heed my warning.” The investigator, unable to persuade them to depart, could only offer advice. “Replace anything used by the deceased. Avoid copying the deceased’s behavior or emotions, day or night.”

“I get replacing their items, but what do you mean by not mimicking the deceased?” Gao Ming was perplexed. “Does it imply that if we replicate their emotions or actions where they died, they will come back?”

The investigator neither confirmed nor denied; instead, he ascended the stairs, apparently to investigate further.

“This investigator seems very knowledgeable,” Xuan Wen observed softly, standing behind Gao Ming. Her look was both menacing and captivating. “Now, no one will bother us anymore.”

She secured the security door and quietly approached Gao Ming with a hushed voice, “The game you’ve crafted represents the convergence of two worlds, with you as the pivotal element to activate it prematurely. Our mission is straightforward: to replicate the life of the deceased in his home, emulating his emotions and completely embodying him. In doing so, his fixations, malevolent thoughts, suffering, and regrets that linger in the limbo between worlds will be attracted to you, inciting the eerie stories centered around you.”

Gao Ming pondered, her words resonating with the recent caution from the investigator. “Sis, are you certain this is without risk?”

Momentarily pausing at Gao Ming’s term of address, Xuan Wen patiently elaborated, “The game involving these bizarre tales is the most fearsome. Once it fully materializes, dread will embed itself in the hearts of all who learn of it, eroding their tranquility. We lack the resources to confront this directly. Thus, our sole strategy is to prematurely trigger it and stifle it at its inception. I acknowledge the risk, potentially even leading to death, but if we remain passive, the future consequences could be exponentially worse.”

Xuan Wen’s logic was compelling. The current scenario was already alarming, with mere family and romance-themed games becoming distorted. Should these sinister tale games fully fuse with the city, the perils facing Gao Ming would intensify significantly.

“Some challenges are inescapable.”

“Alright, I’ll attempt it.”

Following Xuan Wen’s instructions, Gao Ming positioned himself in front of the living room mirror, holding an unmarked obituary photograph.

All lights in the room were extinguished, and four white candles were lit, one in each corner.

The room was enveloped in the eerie glow of candlelight, the sound of rain falling, and the occasional thunderclap, intermittently illuminated by lightning, creating a somber and foreboding atmosphere.

Gao Ming shut his eyes, steadying his breath, immersing himself in the life of the deceased.

Brother Zhao, full name Zhao Xi, was an orphan found near a garbage heap by an elderly woman. Lacking formal education and constantly clad in worn-out clothes, he endured bullying by other children and the woman’s second son, yet he never retaliated.

As an adult, Zhao Xi labored as a dockworker, striving to earn tuition for his younger siblings and upholding familial responsibilities.

Despite his grueling existence, Zhao Xi was perpetually upbeat, warmly greeting all he encountered. Those who once tormented him now respectfully referred to him as Brother Zhao.

Over time, Zhao Xi emerged as the most benevolent figure in Li Jing Apartments. Unmarried, he was always available to assist those in need. When his brother was incarcerated, he cared for his mother and pregnant sister-in-law.

It seemed implausible that someone as positive and resilient as Zhao Xi would opt for suicide, leaving his neighbors perplexed. Gao Ming, however, had pieced together some clues.

Zhao Xi had endured physically taxing jobs for years, which had taken a toll on his health. A leg injury the previous year resulted in his dismissal from the factory.

With no formal education, a physical disability, and deteriorating health, Zhao Xi struggled to find employment. Confined at home, he endured cold glares and reprimands from his sister-in-law and foster mother.

As an adopted child, Zhao Xi yearned for recognition and a sense of belonging more than anything. He craved authentic familial connections. Yet, he was met with disrespect from those around him. His phone seemed to be his only solace, understanding him more than his own family and the only outlet for his bottled-up emotions.

The cheerfulness, determination, and warmth he exhibited were largely a self-constructed mask to avoid feeling “abandoned” once again. However, the more he endeavored to maintain this façade, the deeper the internal agony he experienced.

Feeling hopeless, incapable of altering his circumstances, and perceiving himself as a burden, he eventually grew to despise himself.

As these negative emotions resurfaced, the temperature in the room perceptibly dropped.

Seated in the living room, Gao Ming felt transported back to the night Zhao Xi ended his life.

In the darkness, no light penetrated the heavy clouds. Although there was no rope around his neck, Gao Ming experienced an increasing struggle to breathe. He touched his neck, overwhelmed by a surge of repulsion from within.

The windows and doors seemed to offer no respite. He felt cornered, forgotten by the world, isolated and impotent.

Suffering from headaches, heart tremors, and a disordered mind, sleep eluded him. He desired only to keep his eyes open, relentlessly sifting through memories.

The reflection in the mirror began to warp. Shadows swelled throughout the room like a flood, imbuing his soul with remorse and fixation.

A familiar coldness crept up his spine. Gao Ming’s eyes snapped open to find all the candles in the living room snuffed out. The entire room 2507 was shrouded in darkness!

Peering into the mirror, Gao Ming saw his pupils shrink as the full-length mirror displayed an inverted, distorted world.

“Bang!”

Before Gao Ming could process, a thunderous noise erupted from below. He rushed to the balcony to see what had happened.

In the courtyard of Li Jing Apartments, by the entrance of building two, lay a contorted body with a broken neck, its lifeless eyes staring directly up at the balcony of apartment 2507.