The mirror monster's chokehold tightened, its invisible grip crushing Chen Ge's throat as Zhang Peng advanced, knife gleaming with murderous intent. His vision swam, veins bulging in his neck, but Chen Ge's eyes locked onto the black phone's glowing screen, Zhang Ya's profile still open. With no time to spare, he lunged for the phone, his trembling fingers typing two desperate words: Help me!
A cacophony of mocking laughter roared in his mind, drowning out the world as Zhang Peng's knife slashed toward him. Chen Ge spun, grabbing whatever his hands could find in the cupboard—tools, props, anything—and hurled them at his attacker. His limbs grew heavy, each movement a battle against the monster's suffocating weight. Clawing at his neck, he found nothing tangible, only the relentless pressure. The phone's my only shot, he thought, glancing at the device on the floor.
Blood-red text pulsed on the screen:
"She has understood your demand. Please accept the content of the second agreement."
Chen Ge's heart sank. A two-way deal? She helps me, but at what cost? With Zhang Peng's knife inches away and the mirror monster strangling him, he had no choice. Crawling forward, he tapped the "Yes" button.
The maintenance room turned frigid, icy drafts swirling from every corner. The laughter in Chen Ge's head cut off abruptly, replaced by a tremor from the monster on his back—it was afraid. A dripping sound, like leaking blood, filled the silence. The mirror monster released Chen Ge, its shadowy form slithering back into Zhang Peng's body, as if seeking refuge.
The room stilled, an unnatural quiet settling in. Zhang Peng's eyes flickered with unease, sensing the shift, but his desperation overrode fear. Knife raised, he charged at Chen Ge, his steps heavy with reckless fury. But as he moved, his face contorted, his body jerking unnaturally—the mirror monster was fighting for control, trying to flee. Their internal struggle paralyzed them, and in that moment, Chen Ge's shadow stretched, a blood-red dress materializing behind him.
Zhang Ya's presence was a visceral force, her crimson aura radiating trauma from their earlier encounter at Western Jiujiang's Private Academy. Zhang Peng and the mirror monster, united by terror, turned to run, their movements synchronized in panic. Freed from the monster's grip, Chen Ge staggered to his feet, rage coursing through him. You almost killed me—you don't get to walk away.
Gripping Dr. Skull-cracker's iron hammer, he prepared to strike, but Zhang Ya was faster. Her sadistic streak flared, black hair shooting from her like needles, piercing Zhang Peng's body. His steps faltered, pain twisting his features. Chen Ge seized the moment, swinging the hammer with brutal force, connecting with Zhang Peng's shoulder. The impact sent him crashing forward, a cry escaping his lips. Chen Ge followed through, slamming the hammer into Zhang Peng's upper calf, eliciting a bone-chilling scream that echoed through the maintenance room.
The mirror monster, sensing its host's defeat, abandoned Zhang Peng, its shadowy form darting toward the corridor. Chen Ge's eyes widened. The toilet—there's a mirror there! Before he could react, Zhang Ya surged past him, her red dress a blur as she pursued the creature, her hunger for it palpable.
Chen Ge scrambled to his feet, spotting a half-full vat of fake blood in the corner. It might work. He grabbed it and sprinted to the toilet, where the door creaked ominously. Inside, Zhang Ya's black hair had pinned the mirror monster, its humanoid shape writhing inches from the mirror. Without hesitation, Chen Ge hurled the fake blood, splattering the mirror's surface. The monster hesitated, its form flickering, and in that split second, Zhang Ya's hair ensnared it completely, coiling like serpents.
The red dress billowed as Zhang Ya toyed with her prey, compressing the shadow into a writhing ball. With a flick of her wrist, she tore it in half, swallowing one portion with a predatory glint.
Zhang Ya's blood-red dress rippled in the stale air of the toilet, her spectral form exuding a predatory grace as she toyed with the mirror monster. The black shadow, once a menacing force, was now a writhing mass in her grasp, compressed into a tight, squirming ball. Her crimson lips parted, and with a subtle, almost teasing inhale, she devoured the shadow whole, its essence vanishing into her mouth. Her cheeks puffed slightly, an oddly endearing contrast to her lethal aura, and Chen Ge's mind—still reeling from the near-death encounter—flashed to an earlier moment: those same cheeks stretched around his cock, her spectral tongue working him with unholy skill.
The memory, raw and unbidden, stirred him, his body betraying him with a surge of arousal despite the chaos. I just survived a knife and a monster, and this is what gets me hard? he thought, a mix of shame and adrenaline coursing through him. Zhang Ya's gaze snapped to him, her eyes glinting with a knowing, dangerous amusement, as if she'd sensed his blasphemous thoughts. She drifted closer, her form hovering inches from his, the air between them crackling with cold and promise.
Chen Ge's breath hitched, his mind torn between fear and anticipation. Is she… offering more? But before he could process, a chill seized his lower body. Zhang Ya's icy hand slipped into his pants, her fingers wrapping around his erect cock with a deliberate, almost cruel precision. Her grip tightened, a slow, punishing squeeze that teetered on the edge of pain, as if she meant to claim it—or tear it away. Chen Ge shuddered, his arousal warring with terror, the sensation both exquisite and horrifying.
The other half Zhang Ya shredded into fragments, blowing them toward Chen Ge's face with a playful, chilling smirk. The pieces dissolved against his skin, leaving a cold sting.
A strange sensation pricked his eyes, like a cold mist seeping into them, and his body grew frigid, as if Zhang Ya's touch was draining more than his warmth. Her lips curled into a faint, wicked smile, her hand lingering a moment longer before releasing him, leaving him gasping and unsteady. She floated back, her dress swaying, and vanished into the shadows, her laughter—a soft, chilling echo—lingering in the air.
The cold sting in Chen Ge's eyes lingered, a ghostly residue that made his body shiver despite the morning's warmth creeping through the Haunted House. What did she do to me? He sought answers from Zhang Ya, but the Red Specter, having fulfilled her end of their perilous bargain, had melted into his shadow, leaving only the creaking toilet door as evidence of her presence. The mirror, smeared with fake blood, stood silent, its surface no longer a gateway for the mirror monster. She devoured half of it and blew the rest into my face, Chen Ge thought, a surreal haze clouding his mind. No new numbers should appear tomorrow… right?
The numbers that once haunted the mirror remained a cryptic puzzle, hinting at a deeper secret he couldn't yet grasp. Shaking off the unease, he closed the toilet door and dialed the local police, opting not to burden Inspector Lee, who'd been stretched thin by recent cases. Leaning against the corridor wall, Chen Ge glanced at Zhang Peng, sprawled lifelessly on the floor. The man's eyes stared blankly, hollowed out, as if the mirror monster had stripped his soul when it fled. Karma's a brutal judge, Chen Ge mused, his own survival a stark contrast to Zhang Peng's ruin.
By 6:00 a.m., a convoy of police cars and park management vehicles clogged the entrance to New Century Park. Officers from Western Jiujiang's station and the city's investigation team swarmed the Haunted House, securing Zhang Peng, the final suspect in the Ping An Apartment case. As the handcuffed man was dragged to a squad car, his vacant gaze met Chen Ge's for a fleeting moment, igniting a chill that wasn't entirely physical. Chen Ge didn't linger; he slipped back into the Haunted House, locking himself in the staff breakroom, his body craving rest but his mind buzzing with plans.
The Ping An Apartment case is closed, he thought, collapsing onto the narrow cot. The mirror monster's gone, devoured by Zhang Ya. No threats lurk in the shadows now—I can open all scenarios for business tomorrow. His thoughts shifted to expansion. The black phone's new scenarios, like School of the Afterlife, won't unlock without more space. I need that underground parking lot. After I wake, I'll convince Uncle Xu. The Haunted House's future glimmered with potential—certificates for surviving high-star scenarios, thrill-seekers flocking to conquer his horrors, He San as a mascot of courage.
But sleep eluded him, a persistent chill caressing his skin despite the blanket cocooning him. It seemed to emanate from his eyes, a cold that no warmth could banish. Zhang Ya's stunt with the mirror monster… did it leave something behind? He grabbed a small hand mirror from the breakroom shelf, studying his reflection. His face looked unchanged, but his pupils were darker, like twin voids swallowing the light, deep and unsettling as a fathomless lake. Is this her mark? Or something worse?
Exhaustion finally won, and Chen Ge tucked the mirror under his pillow, drifting into a fitful sleep haunted by crimson dresses and shadowed knives. At 10:30 a.m., his phone's shrill ring jolted him awake, barely four hours after he'd closed his eyes. Groaning, he checked the caller ID—Xiao Wan, his employee. "Morning off," he mumbled into the phone. "Come in this afternoon."