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Chapter 13
The dormitory caretaker—a sleepy old lady half-lying in her recliner—opened one eye when she saw two “students” carrying sacks bigger than themselves.
“Oh my, you two—where are you headed with all that?” she asked lazily.
“Sixth floor!” one of the players replied enthusiastically, always polite toward every NPC they met.
“The sixth floor? That’s far up. Looks heavy, too,” the caretaker tutted. “Which dorm room?”
“Room 623.”
“Young lads sure have strength,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Be careful now—don’t throw your backs out.”
She watched the players disappear up the stairwell, then settled back in her recliner, basking in the sunlight with her eyes half closed.
A moment later, she suddenly sat bolt upright, her face pale.
“…623?!”
“Room 623.”
Yan Lang lifted his gaze to the faded dorm plate and took out a key. The lock clicked open.
From the doorway, the room appeared dim and murky. The balcony curtain was tightly drawn, blocking out the sunlight. The faint green glow filtering through the dark fabric bathed the entire dorm in an eerie, swampy hue.
The two beds nearest the balcony were empty—upper bunks and desks below, clearly unused for a long time.
Yan Lang walked through the narrow aisle until he reached the right side of the room—where one bed was completely shrouded behind heavy black-and-white curtains.
It was the only bed that looked lived in.
Though not necessarily by someone alive.
“This place looks like a funeral hall,” his teammate muttered uneasily behind him.
Yan Lang dropped the sack onto the floor. Dust burst upward, floating through the greenish light like fine ash. The whole dorm was blanketed in gray; even the white walls seemed tinged with decay.
He turned toward the thick white curtain and felt a jolt of alertness.
【You used Weakness Analysis on Bed No.1. Analysis failed.】
…Failed?
“Yan-ge, this room’s giving me bad vibes,” his teammate whispered.
Yan Lang stepped closer until he could catch a faint, cold fragrance seeping from the curtain.
It smelled almost identical to Tang Yu’s scent today.
Was this Tang Yu’s bed?
If it was, that would explain a few things. Earlier, Tang Yu had him buy a mountain of daily necessities—as if he were moving into a new dorm—but Tang Yu himself hadn’t brought much, except for this heavy curtain that completely concealed the bed and desk.
Was he hiding something?
And if this wasn’t Tang Yu’s bed… then why did Tang Yu smell exactly the same?
…Did Tang Yu sleep with this person last night?
Before he could stop himself, Yan Lang’s hand was already moving. He grabbed a corner of the white curtain, his fingers brushing against something cold and silky—like human skin or satin. He clenched slightly, leaving a few wrinkles in the smooth fabric.
“Wait—wait, Yan-ge!” his teammate said nervously. “You’re not really gonna pull it open, are you?”
“What else would a tightly closed curtain be for?” Yan Lang said softly—and yanked it to the side.
The moment the fabric flew open, he found himself face to face with a pale, lifeless face.
His teammate behind him let out a reflexive, “Holy shit—!”
Yan Lang’s heart gave a violent jump. Then he blinked, realizing it wasn’t a real face at all—just a crudely made paper effigy sitting upright on the bed.
The paper figure had two black, painted eyes, bright red circles on its cheeks, and a perfectly curved smile drawn across its lips.
“Who the hell does that?! Putting a paper doll here—scared the crap out of me!” the other player babbled, voice trembling from lingering fright. “Whoever sleeps here is seriously messed up.”
Yan Lang stared at the paper effigy.
【You used Weakness Analysis on the paper effigy.】
【You discovered: its entire body is a weakness.】
He reached out and poked its head. The flimsy thing wobbled, and he let out a derisive chuckle.
“Yan-ge, that thing really looked real for a second. When my grandpa died, they had paper figures too—but those didn’t look quite like this…” his teammate mumbled. He couldn’t even explain what was different.
Yan Lang half-listened, idly examining the fragile effigy. It felt like he could tear straight through it with a flick of his wrist.
Then—his hand froze.
A sudden wave of unease washed over him. He turned sharply, scanning the room.
Behind him stood only his nervous teammate and an empty bed.
On the balcony, the curtain swayed faintly though there was no wind.
Above, the ceiling fan hung thick with cobwebs, two dead gnats caught in the webbing.
Everything looked normal—yet nothing felt right.
He looked back at the crude paper man, muttered, “Tch,” and punched it.
The paper effigy crumpled and fell soundlessly to the floor.
Behind him, his teammate screamed.
Yan Lang spun around.
“I—I thought it moved on its own!” the player stammered.
“It was me,” Yan Lang said calmly.
“This thing’s freaky, man… really freaky…” The teammate rubbed his face, then froze. “Wait—it’s the eyes!”
Yan Lang frowned. “What about them?”
“I remember now! When my grandpa died, those paper figures at the funeral didn’t have eyes. I asked my dad why, and he slapped me—told me never to ask stupid questions.”
He turned toward the fallen paper figure again. Its head was twisted, bent like a broken neck, yet those painted black eyes seemed to be staring right at him.
It felt more oppressive than any NPC’s stare ever had.
He gave a nervous laugh. “I found out later—you’re not supposed to paint eyes on a paper man. Once you do, it becomes too real.”
Yan Lang raised an eyebrow at the crude figure, then shifted his attention back to the half-closed curtain.
What was still hiding on that bed?
He reached for the remaining corner of the fabric—
Bang!
A deafening noise exploded through the dim room. Instinctively, Yan Lang turned toward the dorm door, which had slammed shut by itself.
There was no wind.
So what closed it?
He let go of the curtain and walked toward the door—
one step, two steps.
The sense of being watched grew stronger with every move.
Yan Lang narrowed his eyes at the small square window in the door.
Something dark flickered past—
a black head, there and gone in a blink.
“There’s someone there! After him!” Yan Lang shouted and burst out the door, moving like a gust of wind.
His teammate followed, stumbling in panic. The door swung halfway shut behind them.
Inside the dorm, the air glowed faintly green and cold.
At some unknown moment, the fallen paper effigy had silently risen back into its original place. Its painted black eyes followed the departing players, and its lips curled upward—revealing a faint, eerie smile.
The curtain fell back into place.
The dorm door slammed shut with a heavy thud.
“Thud, thud, thud.”
The players’ footsteps echoed down the hallway. They chased the fleeting shadow they’d seen vanish into the stairwell between the sixth and fifth floors.
That section of the building had no windows. The air was heavy and dim, like dusk even in broad daylight.
The players ran without hesitation. The stairwell rang with their pounding steps—down one flight, then another, and another.
“Haah… haah… Yan-ge, I can’t keep up!”
“Wait.”
“It’s okay, Yan-ge! Don’t wait for me—go ahead!”
“No,” Yan Lang said quietly, frowning. “I mean…”
He looked up at the floor number sign, and his expression hardened.
“…Why are we still on the fifth floor?”
They had been running down forever—yet the number on the wall never changed.
Meanwhile, Tang Yu sat in class, glancing nervously at the door—half-dreading the moment the players might barge back in, all excited from their “mission.”
He didn’t know what reward he was supposed to give them this time… or what task would come next. After all, they’d already bought nearly every daily necessity he could think of.
In frustration, he checked his phone and reread Shen Junxing’s last message.
“Tenth task: Have them deliver all the items they bought to your dorm.”
Tang Yu had replied:
“And then?”
Shen Junxing’s answer had been:
“There’s no ‘then.’”
At the time, Tang Yu hadn’t pressed for an explanation—the players had just arrived, and he’d been too busy to ask.
Now, an hour had passed since he assigned the tenth task. The usually fast, efficient players hadn’t returned.
He stared at the chat screen. The blue in his eyes flickered faintly.
And then, like a sudden flash of understanding, it hit him.
He finally realized what Shen Junxing meant by—
“There’s no then.”
“Haah… haah… Yan-ge, I can’t—can’t anymore…” MeowDongLi (the player) leaned on the railing, gasping for breath.
“Wait,” came Yan Lang’s calm voice from below.
“It’s fine, Yan-ge, don’t wait—just keep chasing!” MeowDongLi panted. He was about to flop down on the stairs when Yan Lang’s voice drifted up again, smooth and gentle:
“I’m right below. Come here.”
Huh?
Despite being exhausted, MeowDongLi felt a small wave of gratitude. He’d thought Yan Lang would leave him behind without a second thought.
Maybe Yan Lang wasn’t so cold-hearted after all.
He gripped the railing and started descending. After a few steps, he leaned forward to look down.
The stairwell was empty. Layer upon layer of stairs spiraled downward endlessly. The more he stared, the more a strange sense of dread rose in his chest.
“Yan-ge? Where are you?”
“I’m right here,” came Yan Lang’s voice—from deep within the dark corridor.
Though it was broad daylight, that corridor seemed unnaturally dark.
“When did you go in there, Yan-ge?” MeowDongLi asked, his voice trembling slightly. For some reason, his feet dragged, his instincts screaming not to move closer.
“I found something new. Hurry up,” Yan Lang said. His tone carried a sharp edge of command.
Hearing that, MeowDongLi didn’t dare hesitate. He quickened his pace into the darkness.
“Come faster!” the voice urged.
He stepped fully into the shadows—
—and the next second, a terrified scream tore through the blackness.
“No, I mean…” Yan Lang frowned, staring at the floor sign again. “We’ve been running for so long. Why are we still on the fifth floor?”
From above, MeowDongLi’s voice echoed excitedly:
“Yan-ge! Come up here quick! I found something!”
Yan Lang climbed a few steps—
and found the stairwell completely empty.
