The previous night, before venturing to Western Jiujiang's Private Academy, Chen Ge had skimmed the black phone's three Daily Missions, each offering a different path to advance his Haunted House's dark legacy. The simple mission tasked him with rooting out hidden security threats—a routine sweep for mundane dangers like faulty wiring or loose props, though in his world, "threats" often carried a spectral edge. The normal mission urged him to find a suitable location for the Haunted House's first expansion, a step toward unlocking the black phone's deeper secrets, like the School of the Afterlife. The Nightmare Mission, however, was a cryptic challenge: identify the "other individual" sharing his room, a task dripping with menace, likely tied to Zhang Ya's lingering presence or another unseen entity. Nightmare Missions, from his past experiences, demanded execution around midnight, their rewards rich but their risks deadly. Missing the time window meant automatic failure, and with the day already waning, Chen Ge wasn't about to gamble his life on a deadline he might've already missed. No need to tempt fate, he thought, selecting the Normal Mission with a tap on the black phone's screen. The prompt flashed: "Normal Mission: You've met the criteria for the Haunted House's first expansion. Find a suitable location soon!" It was vague, offering no guide, but the contract for the underground parking lot—secured from Director Luo just hours ago—felt like destiny aligning.
Chen Ge sat in the Haunted House's breakroom, the dim light casting long shadows as he pondered the expansion. The black phone, his constant companion and curse, gave no step-by-step instructions, leaving him to navigate its cryptic demands through trial and error. No manual, no hints—just me and this damn phone, he mused, scrolling through its interface. Two sections caught his eye. The "My Team of Ghosts and Ghouls" tab remained stubbornly empty, despite his encounters with Zhang Ya and Yin Xiaoxiao. Xiaoxiao's affection had risen to "Can be Trusted," but she wasn't yet bound to the Haunted House, her gentle spirit a stark contrast to Zhang Ya's volatile, crimson allure. Zhang Ya, with her "Yours forever" vow, was a wildcard—her sadistic whims made her as likely to kill him as to aid him, let alone join his spectral roster. The second tab, "Haunted House Expansion," glowed red, no longer grayed out. Tapping it revealed a single prompt: "Please select the location of the entrance." The red text pulsed, clickable, a sign the phone was ready to act. Chen Ge's mind turned to the underground parking lot—a sprawling, abandoned space a third the size of New Century Park. Its only flaw was its external entrance, disconnected from the Haunted House's flow. I'll carve a new path directly beneath the building, he decided, envisioning a seamless descent into the maze he'd build.
The Haunted House sat in an isolated corner of the park, uniquely positioned above the parking lot, unlike the rollercoasters or Ferris Wheel, which were barred from having substructures due to safety codes. This quirk made it the perfect hub for his expansion. Holding the black phone, Chen Ge paced to the first-floor entrance of the Night of the Living Dead scenario, a once-popular setup now overshadowed by newer one-star scenarios like Minghun and Murder by Midnight. The space felt stale, its props gathering dust, a relic ready for reinvention. I'll place the entrance here, he thought, grabbing a piece of chalk to mark a rectangular patch on the floor beside the scenario's doorway. If needed, I can scrap Night of the Living Dead later and repurpose the space. But as he stood back, chalk dust on his fingers, he realized the phone offered no way to input his choice. Since inheriting the device, it had been a one-way street—commands issued, obedience expected. Am I missing something? He tapped through the app, frustration mounting, until a double-tap on the home screen triggered a shift. The interface zoomed out, revealing a detailed layout of the Haunted House, every corridor and scenario meticulously mapped, mirroring the real building down to its creaking boards.
Chen Ge's pulse quickened as he located the Night of the Living Dead scenario on the digital map. He tapped an empty space beside its entrance, and a prompt appeared: "Are you sure you want to place the entrance here?" He confirmed with a decisive "Yes," and a new question followed: "Please select the expansion direction." Downward, he chose, envisioning the underground maze spiraling beneath the park. The screen flickered, returning to normal, but a flurry of notifications flooded in. "Only through continuous expansion will your Haunted House host more homeless spirits and collect more screams. Congratulations for completing the Normal Mission. Reward: A free spin at the Wheel of Misfortune!" Another message followed: "Congratulations on your first expansion. Special reward: Unique construct obtained—Midnight Ticket Counter (Broken)! Midnight Ticket Counter (Broken): One in a thousand chance to attract special 'visitors' who differ from others and may lend aid." Chen Ge read each word carefully, his mind parsing the implications. The Wheel of Misfortune, a lottery fueled by a hundred screams, promised rare rewards but was a gamble—his "luck" had once landed him a cursed love letter from Zhang Ya, a memory that still sent shivers through him, equal parts dread and forbidden thrill. The Midnight Ticket Counter intrigued him more, its cryptic description hinting at spectral allies, but its "broken" state left him wary. As the black phone dimmed, the chill in his eyes—Zhang Ya's mark—flared, her presence a reminder that every reward came with a price, her crimson touch weaving through his fate like a thread of blood.
Chen Ge's mind churned with grim possibilities as he considered the Wheel of Misfortune, its promise of rare rewards overshadowed by the specter of his past "luck." The image of Zhang Ya and another baleful spirit—perhaps Xiaoxiao, or something far worse—loomed in his imagination, their bloodied knives raised in a macabre tug-of-war over his body, each vying to claim a piece of him. Zhang Ya's crimson allure, with her sadistic whims, already held him in a precarious dance; adding another spirit to the mix felt like tempting fate to cleave him in two. Too soon for that gamble, he thought, shoving the Wheel to the back of his mind. Instead, he focused on the other reward: the Midnight Ticket Counter (Broken). The Haunted House had never needed a dedicated ticket counter before—the black phone's arrival had transformed it from a failing attraction with barely ten weekly visitors to a growing hub of terror. But a counter, even a broken one, hinted at structure, at legitimacy. What's this "one in a thousand chance" for special visitors? he wondered, the phone's cryptic wording gnawing at him. Ghosts? Spirits like Xiaoxiao? Or something else entirely? The uncertainty was unsettling, but the black phone's rewards always carried hidden edges, much like Zhang Ya's touch—both salvation and threat, her "Yours forever" vow a constant pulse in his veins.
He paced to the Haunted House's front gate, hoping to spot some sign of the Midnight Ticket Counter, but the entrance stood unchanged—same creaking doors, same faded posters, no trace of the new construct. Maybe it manifests after midnight, like the Murder by Midnight scenario, he reasoned, recalling how the black phone's changes often tied to the witching hour. With time to kill, he turned to practical matters, rolling up his sleeves to tackle the mess left from the mirror monster's defeat. The toilet's mirror, smeared with fake blood, needed cleaning—the aftermath of his desperate bid to trap the shadow creature. The task was urgent, spurred by an embarrassing incident earlier that day. A visitor, caught short during a tour, had followed Chen Ge to the toilet, only to blanch at the blood-soaked floor and refuse to enter. The man's face had turned a sickly green as he held it in, forcing Chen Ge to escort him out.
The haunted house was alive with eerie whispers and flickering shadows, the air thick with the scent of fog machines and adrenaline. Chen Ge, the charismatic owner, was in the midst of cleaning up a mess from an earlier mishap—crimson blood splattered across the bathroom walls, a prop gone awry from the afternoon's chaos. The clock ticked toward closing time, but one last visitor lingered: a shy, breathtaking tourist named Lila, her wide eyes darting nervously in the dim light.
Lila's breath hitched as she approached Chen Ge, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I need a bathroom. Urgently." Her cheeks flushed, a mix of embarrassment and the haunted house's lingering terror. Chen Ge, with his easy grin and confident swagger, nodded, guiding her through the maze of creaking corridors to the staff bathroom, the only one still functional after the day's mishap.
He pushed open the door, revealing walls streaked with glistening red, the plasma-like prop glowing faintly under the flickering fluorescent light. Lila froze, her body trembling as she clutched his arm. "I—I can't go in there," she stammered, her emerald eyes wide with fear, her lips parted in a soft gasp. Her sundress clung to her curves, betraying the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
Chen Ge's gaze softened, but a spark of mischief danced in his dark eyes. "It's just a prop, Lila. Nothing to fear." He stepped closer, his voice low and reassuring, yet laced with a heat that made her pulse race. "But if you're scared, I can help you... relax."
Her eyes flicked up to meet his, curiosity mingling with her nerves. The air between them crackled, the haunted house's eerie ambiance amplifying the tension. Chen Ge's hand brushed her arm, a deliberate, slow caress that sent a shiver down her spine. "Trust me," he murmured, his voice a velvet promise.
Lila's breath caught as he gently guided her into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind them. The red-streaked walls seemed to pulse, the atmosphere both thrilling and forbidden. Chen Ge's hands found her waist, steady and strong, and he lifted her effortlessly onto the edge of the sink, her legs parting instinctively as her dress rode up her thighs. Her eyes locked onto his, a silent question answered by the hunger in his gaze.
"You're safe with me," he whispered, his fingers trailing along the hem of her dress, teasing the soft skin of her inner thighs. Lila's lips parted, a soft moan escaping as she nodded, her body arching toward him, craving the heat of his touch. With a slow, deliberate motion, he slid her panties down, the fabric whispering against her skin as it fell to the floor.
Chen Ge's breath was hot against her neck as he leaned in, his lips grazing her pulse point, sending sparks of desire coursing through her. His hands explored her, confident yet gentle, igniting every nerve. When he pressed himself closer, the hard length of him brushing against her, Lila's gasp echoed in the small room, her fear melting into a molten need.
"Please," she whispered, her voice trembling with want. That was all he needed. With a slow, deliberate thrust, he entered her, their bodies melding in a rhythm that matched the pounding of their hearts. The bathroom's eerie glow bathed them in crimson, the slick walls a surreal backdrop to their fervor. Lila's fingers dug into his shoulders, her moans growing louder, drowning out the distant creaks of the haunted house.
Each movement was a dance of control and surrender, Chen Ge's hands gripping her hips as he guided her through waves of pleasure. Lila's body responded eagerly, her earlier urgency forgotten in the throes of ecstasy. The tension built, a crescendo that left her trembling, her release a shuddering cry that echoed off the walls. Chen Ge followed, his own climax a low growl against her ear, their connection electric and undeniable.
As they caught their breath, Lila's shy smile returned, her fear replaced by a sated glow. The plasma-streaked walls no longer seemed terrifying—just a strange, intimate part of the night's adventure. Chen Ge helped her down, his touch lingering, a silent promise of more to come.
"Feeling better?" he teased, his grin wicked.
Lila laughed, breathless. "Much."
Scary belongs in the scenarios, not the facilities, he thought, echoing his father's old advice: "The frights should terrify, but the rest of the experience should feel safe, welcoming. We're in the service business." Those words, once just fatherly wisdom, now felt like a mantra for survival, grounding him as he scrubbed the mirror, the red stains dissolving under his cloth, leaving the glass clear but his reflection haunted by the chill in his eyes—Zhang Ya's mark, ever-present.
By 11:00 p.m., the toilet sparkled, the mirror pristine, the broken door repaired with a few deft fixes. Chen Ge stood before the glass, the black phone in hand, its weight a reminder of the night's unfinished business. He swiped to his profile on a video-sharing app, a side hustle he'd started to boost the Haunted House's visibility. His follower count was climbing steadily, each video of screaming visitors or eerie teasers gaining traction, some even going viral. Advertisers had begun reaching out, offering deals that could fund his expansion. This is the key to promotion, he realized, scrolling through comments praising his "authentic" scares. The irony wasn't lost on him—his terrors were all too real, born of the black phone's missions and Zhang Ya's crimson whims. He pocketed the phone, the clock ticking toward midnight. The mirror, now clean, showed no new numbers, a relief after the mirror monster's defeat, but he couldn't shake the feeling that its secrets lingered, tied to the School of the Afterlife and his parents' disappearance. As he waited for the Midnight Ticket Counter to appear, the chill in his eyes flared, Zhang Ya's presence a silent warning that every step forward—every new visitor, every expansion—was a dance with her desires, a path where triumph and torment were inseparably entwined.