“Sweetie, I’ve picked two game scenarios for you. You’ll be playing guiding NPCs, so you won’t have to do any killing or arson. Just give players some hints at the right moments,” my father said, his towering 6’6″ frame looming over me with a kindly expression. I nodded helplessly, indicating that I understood. At this point, I’d take any job he offered, even if it meant being the horror boss myself. “Remember, no workplace bullying, alright? Get along well with those boss colleagues of yours,” my dad reminded me as he pressed the transfer button, still reluctant to let me go. [Welcome to Naranmud Academy] [Naranmud is a renowned international high school where you can gain knowledge, broaden your horizons, and enter your dream university.] [However, the school has strict rules. Please follow them carefully.] […] I stared at the professional broadcasting equipment before me, utterly confused. What was going on? A sweet system voice chimed in the room: “Welcome to the NPC team for this horror game! Let me introduce you to your job responsibilities.” Still bewildered, I sat down in the chair and was about to pick up the work manual on the desk when a low, slightly hoarse voice sounded behind me. “Bootlicker.” Huh? Who’s he calling a bootlicker? A tall, muscular figure cast a looming shadow over me. Golden-brown hair, steel-blue eyes, and a face hidden behind a mask. He licked his pale red lips, staring at me unblinkingly as he asked, “Nepotism hire? Pretty gutsy.” “How can you tell I got in through connections?” He jerked his head towards the system that had just spoken. “I’ve been here five years, and this is the first time I’ve heard it speak in that sickeningly sweet voice instead of its usual robotic tone.” Oh, so he was calling the system a bootlicker. I laughed awkwardly, making a mental note. This must be the boss of this game scenario, my first workplace colleague. I had to make a good impression! I extended my hand towards him. “Hi, I’m Lily. I’m new here, please take care of me.” His large, calloused hand enveloped mine, sending an instinctive shiver through me as he rubbed his fingers together. His lips moved slightly as he uttered a name. “Anderson.” He sat down in another chair and began adjusting the broadcasting equipment. “Your job is to read the text from the manual over the PA system, guiding players to the next plot point when they reach certain triggers. It’s safe here; no one can harm you. The game starts in ten minutes, so get ready.” His steel-blue eyes glanced over at me. “Any questions?” I scratched my head. “Actually, yes.” I pointed at his eyes. “Do they make colored contacts in horror games?” Anderson paused for a moment, then a hint of resignation appeared in his eyes. “I’m mixed-race. This is my natural eye color.” The crimson doors swung open with a bang, and a group of people cautiously peered inside the school. A clear voice came over the PA system. [Welcome to Naranmud Academy.] [Naranmud is a renowned international high school where you can gain knowledge, broaden your horizons, and enter your dream university.] [However, the school has strict rules. Please follow them carefully, or terrible things may happen.] [Rule One: No dating allowed on campus.] [Rule Two: The infirmary is off-limits after midnight.] … The group’s expressions grew increasingly grim. Invisible to the players, blood-red comments floated through the air. [Finally, the Maddog’s stream is here!] [He may be crazy, but his sex appeal is off the charts. Sigh…] [Hey, the broadcast voice changed. It sounds pretty nice.] [Hurry up and start! I want to see Maddog kill someone already.] … In a dark, dilapidated hallway, a group stumbled along, their ragged breathing and muffled curses mixing to create a heart-pounding escape scene. “Damn, this madman just won’t give up!” “How unlucky can we get? We’re going to die in this scenario today.” The tall, muscular man maintained a constant distance behind them, like a cruel cat toying with fleeing mice. I watched this scene on the large screen before me, unsure how to feel. Anderson had shed the calm facade I’d seen earlier, revealing a bloodthirsty interior. The massive saw that looked impossibly heavy seemed like a toy in his hands. He excitedly revved it up, the sharp blade striking sparks as it touched the ground. The leader of the escapees gritted his teeth, suddenly stopping to throw back an item. A cloud of smoke billowed out, and Anderson disappeared. The leader smirked triumphantly, turning to continue his escape—only to freeze as his gaze met the tall man’s. The hunter, bored with this game of cat and mouse, brought down his gleaming saw in an unavoidable arc. [That was awesome!] [As expected of Maddog. I’d call this the art of violence.] [Hubby is so cool! I want to discuss some human reproduction knowledge with him.] [To the person above, I’ll say it again: fangirls shouldn’t watch these streams.] … The 3-day scenario ended in less than 2.5 days with all players dead. The stream closed. Anderson wiped down his saw blade and spoke up: “Leaving already?” I glanced at him and sighed. “Yeah, us working stiffs have no rights. Gotta go slave away for the capitalists at my other job.” I work seven days a week—Monday to Wednesday here in Anderson’s scenario, Thursday to Saturday in another, with Sunday off. I trudged out with heavy steps, completely missing the look Anderson gave me. A dangerous, meaningful gaze that licked from head to toe over my gradually retreating figure. The pale neck, the waist hidden under clothes, down to the ankles that could be grasped in one hand… “Lily…” he murmured. [Welcome to The Shining] [You’ve checked into the Farview Hotel. The facilities are excellent and the environment is cozy. You like it here, but soon you notice something’s not quite right.] [Try to survive for 72 hours, dear player.] As the white light faded, I recovered from the dizziness of spatial transfer and looked down at my uniform. Lace trim, a black and gold belt, an elegant uniform that clung to my body, and snow-white gloves that fit my hands perfectly. I glanced at the cocktail glass on the bar. So my NPC role this time is a bartender? Just then, I heard a rustling sound nearby. It seemed to be… coming from under the bar. I bent down to look. A young man was curled up there, his chest heaving slightly. He looked extremely uncomfortable. I reached out to pull him up. “Are you okay? Not feeling well?” Unexpectedly, a pair of slender hands grabbed my wrist, holding it in mid-air. The young man’s face was flushed, his eyes brimming with moisture as he gazed at me longingly: “Big sis, I feel so awful.” He tilted his head towards my wrist, his bright red tongue darting out to lick along the edge of my glove and slip inside, caressing my skin. My pulse quickened slightly, as if welcoming the teasing of his lips and tongue. As he licked, he raised his pitch-black eyes to look at me, greed and madness on full display. My heart skipped a beat. “Aiden, let her go.” A mellow voice sounded behind me. I jumped, hurriedly pulling my hand away. Another young man stood there, tall and handsome with black hair and eyes. He frowned at me. “I’m sorry, miss. He’s my brother. Please excuse his rudeness earlier.” I shook my head to indicate it was fine. He walked over and roughly yanked Aiden up. Aiden’s expression gradually shifted from infatuation to clarity. “My name is Ethan. We’re the bosses here. You must be the new NPC, right? Let me explain your job to you.” He pulled out a bar stool and gestured for me to sit. When both brothers stood before me, I was surprised to find they looked extremely alike—same height, same face, same clothes, like mirror images of each other. But despite their similarity, they were easy to tell apart. The one with a gentle, non-threatening aura was the older brother Ethan. The one with an obsessive, predatory gaze was the younger brother Aiden. “Your bar will only appear when players trigger certain quest points. You just need to give them clues to guide them along. It’s very simple and completely safe,” Ethan said with a slight smile. “Well, if you don’t have any questions, we’ll be going now. The game is about to start.” They gradually disappeared down the hallway. In the darkness, the twins’ footsteps were eerily in sync. Aiden rapturously sniffed the hand that had touched the new bartender, a dissatisfied whine escaping his throat: “I want… I want to eat big sis up…” Ethan licked his canine teeth, also struggling to control himself as he reassured his brother: “Wait a little longer. We’d scare her off now. Just wait…” The crimson carpet was like thick blood, countless branching corridors resembling spreading veins. A player huddled in a hidden corner, body trembling almost imperceptibly. He was the last player left. If he could just avoid detection for five more minutes, he would survive. He kept reassuring himself. “Bingo, found you.” An amused voice sounded by his ear. The player looked up in panic, eyes filled with disbelief and despair. Vines burst forth, tearing his body apart before he could even scream. [Yay! Congrats to big bro on getting the final kill.] [What? I lost my bet. Can’t believe little bro got so many fewer kills!] [That guy was so close, the scenario was about to end.] [You clearly don’t know, newbie. This is big bro’s signature move—letting people see a glimmer of hope, then crushing it before their eyes.] … Before closing time, Ethan came to me looking a bit embarrassed. “Aiden got hurt and wants you to bandage him. He won’t let me touch him. Could you help, miss?” “Of course.” I poured disinfectant over the gruesome gash on Aiden’s arm. It must have been extremely painful, but he didn’t make a sound, just stared at me with blatant, feverish eyes. I finished bandaging under that gaze, sweating profusely. After tying a neat butterfly knot, I tried to stand up. Aiden suddenly flipped his palm over, loosely grasping my wrist for a moment before letting go. His beautiful lips curved into a smile, his slightly lowered voice thick with desire. “Thank you, big sis.” I quickly grew accustomed to this kind of work. Monday through Wednesday, I was the broadcaster at Anderson’s place, guiding players to the next quest point and occasionally oiling Anderson’s saw. Out of courtesy, Anderson would sketch portraits of me in return. He was an excellent artist. On many warm afternoons, we’d sit in the empty, blood-stained playground. I’d doze off as I posed, while his pencil flew across the paper, his steel-blue eyes peering at me over the easel. Thursday through Saturday, I was the bartender for the twins, providing clues to players who triggered plot points and sometimes bandaging Ethan or Aiden’s wounds. They’d beg me to mix them drinks, listening to stories about the odd things I encountered outside the game as we waited. On Sundays, I’d go home to eat the meals my dad cooked, listening to his worried questions about whether my job was going well or if my colleagues were bullying me. I’d think of my coworkers’ smiling eyes and shake my head, telling him not to worry. Another Monday arrived. The broadcast announced, [Will the two students please report to the administration office immediately.] My melodious voice did nothing to ease the players’ terror. In fact, it seemed to make them even more frightened. Behind the microphone, I also frowned. In all my time here, this was the first hidden plot point to be triggered. The two players were a couple—the man a high-level medium, the woman a healer. Working in perfect sync, they had narrowly escaped Anderson’s pursuit, triggering the first school rule: [No dating allowed]. A large black door slowly materialized behind them, emanating an ominous aura. A gilded plaque hung on it, bearing three words: [Administration Office]. They approached uncertainly. Through the door, the man timidly activated his medium abilities. Moments later, he suddenly clutched his chest and coughed up blood. “What’s inside?” the woman asked, supporting him anxiously. “Fire… a huge fire…” “Fire?” [Will the two students please report to the administration office immediately.] The broadcast repeated its urgent summons. The woman bit her lip and, supporting the man, pushed open the door. The door slammed against the wall, stirring up a thin layer of dust. Surprisingly, there was no fire as the man had sensed. The small room was filled with dust, its contents visible at a glance. A row of bookshelves stood at the far end. The woman slowly walked over. I stared intently at the woman’s actions on the screen. She flipped through the messy books and papers on the shelf, pulling out a file folder. The moment my eyes fell on the folder, my pupils constricted. There in the name field was clearly written: Anderson. Followed by the enrollment date: May 1, 20XX. The woman on screen froze. She turned back in horror to find Anderson standing in the doorway, his steel-blue eyes filled with violent killing intent, a glimpse of sharp white teeth visible like a wild beast’s fangs. “Ladies and gentlemen, game over,” he said.
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