Chapter 3: Evernight Apartment
The glowing panel dimmed slightly, but the words had already burned themselves into Lumian's mind:
[Mission Level: F]
[Objective: Go to Jade City and remain in Evernight Apartments for 5 hours at midnight]
[Rewards: 30 Karma Points, Random Skill]
[Failure Penalty: Death]
Lumian's jaw tightened. "Five hours… in some creepy apartment? What kind of mission is this?"
The sunlight slanted through the cracked windows of his family house, dust motes swirling in the air. Everything around him felt unreal. This wasn't just some trauma or hallucination. The system was real—cold, mechanical, and merciless.
"Death penalty for failure…" he muttered, laughing bitterly. "I can't even talk about you, or you'll kill me. And now you want me to play ghost hunter?"
The panel faded with a faint hum, leaving silence in its wake. Lumian dropped onto the couch, burying his face in his hands.
Jade City… Evernight Apartments… That was across town. He'd need to catch the evening bus.
For a moment, he thought of calling Chaco again, but the memory of blood spilling from his lips made him shudder. He clenched his fists and whispered, "I'm on my own."
---
That night, sleep never came. Every creak of the house was a phantom footstep. Every shadow whispered with his father's ghostly face.
By dawn, he had already packed: a small flashlight, his uncle's old pocketknife, and half a bottle of water. His pulse hammered as he stepped into the morning air and locked the iron gate behind him.
The bus ride to Jade City was long and suffocating. Passengers chatted casually, their lives normal and untouched by curses. Lumian stared at his reflection in the window, wondering if he even looked human anymore.
At last, the bus screeched to a stop.
Jade City.
---
At the far end of a narrow street stood the Evernight Apartments.
The building loomed tall, its dark windows like hollow eyes. The nameplate above the rusted gates had long faded, but the word Evernight was still carved deep, like a scar that refused to heal.
Lumian swallowed hard. "Five hours, huh? Easy… right?"
He pushed the gate. It groaned loudly, echoing through the empty courtyard. The air was unnaturally still, as if resisting his very presence.
The lobby smelled of mold and old wood. The system's cold voice rang again:
[Mission will start at 12:00 AM]
The panel blinked before fading.
Lumian exhaled slowly and glanced around. The interior looked like an old-fashioned residential block. He remembered reading something about this place on the internet: cheap rent, decent rooms—but cursed.
Three years ago, there had been a double murder. A woman and her young son, killed brutally inside these very walls. The suspect, her ex-husband Carl, had been questioned but never convicted. The case went cold, unresolved.
Lumian clenched his jaw. "Damn system… If I don't do the mission, I die. If I fail the mission, I die. What a joke."
---
A sound of footsteps echoed. Slow, heavy, descending the stairs.
An old man emerged, his face weathered, a scar running across his cheek. His eyes softened as he smiled kindly.
"Are you the new tenant?"
"Yes," Lumian replied cautiously. "I… just want to stay here for one night."
The old man raised a brow. "Only one night?"
"That's right."
The man chuckled faintly but didn't press. He led Lumian upstairs, his cane tapping against the steps. At last, they stopped before a door.
"This is the only room available right now," the old man said.
Lumian nodded, thanked him, and entered. The old man lingered for a short chat before leaving, his footsteps fading into the corridor.
---
The room was simple but strangely unsettling. Old furniture, faded curtains, and a painting of a young woman hung on the wall. When Lumian moved the curtains aside, he froze.
Beyond the apartment's grounds stretched a dense patch of trees—a dark forest. Hidden among them was a faint, flickering light. He squinted, realizing it came from a cabin deep in the woods. Remote, dangerous, and utterly out of place.
The clock read 11:00 PM. Still an hour before the mission began.
Lumian left his room to explore. The corridor was dimly lit, lined with numbered doors. From behind the door opposite his—Room 045—came the muffled sound of a young man shouting. Video game noises leaked through, along with curses and laughter.
A tenant. Normal. Human. That gave Lumian a strange sense of comfort.
He walked further when a scream tore through the silence. High-pitched. A woman.
Heart racing, Lumian rushed to the door where the scream had come from. He knocked sharply.
The door creaked open, revealing a young woman. She was beautiful, but pale, her skin glistening with sweat. Her eyes darted unfocused, as though hiding something.
"Sorry," she whispered quickly. "I slipped. Nothing serious."
Lumian's instincts screamed otherwise. He had studied enough psychology to recognize fear. As the door closed, he caught a glimpse of a shadow moving inside the room. A person.
He hesitated but forced himself to turn away. Not my business. Survive first.
Then he froze.
A tall man stood behind him. Lumian stumbled back in shock.
"Sorry," the man said calmly. "I heard a scream."
Lumian nodded, explaining what the woman had told him. The man said nothing more, simply walked down the hall and entered Room 047.
Lumian's chest tightened. That face… He had seen it before.
A memory clicked like a knife.
The newspaper articles. The case files online.
His blood ran cold.
"That's him…" Lumian whispered. "Carl. The ex-husband. The accused murderer."
What was he doing here—still living in the same building where his wife and son had died?
---
Lumian hurried back to his room, locking the door behind him. His mind raced, heart hammering.
The system's cold voice shattered the silence:
[12:00 AM. Mission begins now.]
The room plunged into unnatural stillness.
---