Having spent years studying human anatomy, Gao Ruxue had logged more hours with corpses than with roommates. She struggled with social interactions—dead bodies made better company than the living.

“The makeup our actors wear is specially designed,” Chen Ge explained, avoiding the topic of embalming and Black Friday (secrets he’d never share). “Combined with the haunted house’s eerie environment and your own psychological suggestibility… that’s why you saw illusions.”

He brushed past the question, eager to change the subject. “If you two are done, I need to get back to work.”

After seeing the forensic students off, he tasked Xu Wan with clearing the props and slipped into the control room alone.

Only Chen Ge knew the truth behind He Shan’s collapse: the creature lurking in the mirror hadn’t left. It was still hiding in the haunted house.

“Leaving it here is a ticking time bomb,” he muttered, replaying He Shan’s surveillance footage frame by frame. The nightmare quest had backfired—he’d never anticipated such consequences.

At 9:24:11 PM, He Shan entered the west wing, panic-stricken. By 9:24:14, he reached the inner room and laid eyes on the copper mirror. Then—something shifted.

The frantic He Shan froze, as if time itself had stopped. He stood motionless before the mirror until 9:24:17, when he suddenly raised his left hand and lurched toward it, as if pulled by an invisible force.

At 9:24:20, Xu Wan (dressed as a bride) chased after him. By then, half of He Shan’s body was pressed against the mirror. The footage flickered—something darted across the glass—and He Shan collapsed.

“Did Xiao Wan’s arrival disrupt the creature’s plan?” Chen Ge muttered, rewinding the 10-second clip. He rubbed his temples, no closer to a solution.

“For now, I’ll cover all the mirrors. Once I figure out how to banish this thing, I’ll deal with it permanently.”

He raided the prop room for black cloth and returned to the haunted house.

“Boss? What’re you doing here? I’ve got this!” Xu Wan called from across the room, re-stuffing paper dolls into a coffin.

“I need to tell you: all mirror-related props are off-limits. And when you dress as a ghost, stay away from the mirrors.” Chen Ge helped her reassemble the coffin.

Xu Wan didn’t question him, but her confusion lingered.

Alone in the west wing, Chen Ge stared at the copper mirror. The room glowed dimly under red lanterns.

“A being trapped in the mirror? Could there be another world on the other side?” He pressed his palm to the cold glass, studying his reflection. “Earlier, He Shan used his right hand to take water—so he’s right-handed. But in the footage, he raised his left first. Why the switch? Was he… controlled?”

Chen Ge mirrored his left hand against the glass. “Only the mirror’s world flips reality.”

Covering the mirror with black cloth, he pulled out his black phone. “The monster was summoned by this phone. To defeat it, I need its help.”

He opened the app, and the interface flickered. Today’s visitor count and monthly total had each risen by two. Under “Unlockable Scenarios,” a new trial mission appeared:

​​Midnight Escape Trial: A dangerous psychiatric patient has broken into a dilapidated apartment building, wielding scissors and a hammer. He’s pacing outside your door.​​
​​Location: Ping’an Apartments, West Suburb.​​
​​Objective: Arrive by 11 PM, find the killer, and survive until dawn.​​
​​Hint: He hides among the crowd—a kind facade masking a shattered soul.​​
​​Accept? Warning: Trials expire in 24 hours. Fail to accept, and the scenario locks forever.​​

Chen Ge hesitated, then tapped “Accept.”

“No risk, no reward. The ghost house is finally picking up. I’ll take every chance to grow it.”

Beneath the trial, the Horror Wheel of Fortune had activated. He tapped it, and a message appeared:

Life and death are fated; wealth and misfortune are written. Here lie fruits of longevity and vengeful spirits.
Collect 100 screams (over 70dB) to earn one spin. First spin: free.

“One spin per 100 screams?” Chen Ge raised an eyebrow. “Rigged much? Even if I get lucky, what if I summon a demon?”

His finger hovered over the screen, the urge to spin as compulsive as checking a buzzing phone.

“Eh, worst case, it’s not a demon,” he muttered.

His finger tapped.

The wheel spun.

Just don’t let it be a demon.