For a moment, the comment feed fell silent before bursting back to life.

[…Okay, this is actually kind of impressive.]

[It does match the textbook definition of Gothic aesthetics, but how do they even know what the real thing looks like? They must’ve just made it up.]

[It’s pretty cool… but why does the vibe feel so eerie? Heh, guess that’s what you’d expect from an exile planet.]

Lai Yuanjia clenched his teeth, his face burning with embarrassment.

Near the cliffside, a projection simulation seemed to be in use. The moment they stepped within a hundred meters of the castle, the sky darkened, thick clouds rolling in as streaks of lightning flashed across the horizon.

Stepping off the tour bus, the weight of the castle’s presence pressed down even harder.

In the interstellar age, much of civilization had eroded—including architecture. The fact that Shang Jingyan had managed to restore a full Gothic-style castle made it a spectacle unlike anything the audience had ever seen.

Sensing Lai Yuanjia’s discomfort, the tour guide’s voice took on a cheerful lilt. “The attraction we’re about to experience is called ‘The Haunted House.’ It’s an original collaboration between Director Shang and Xue Tourism Group—the first and only one of its kind in the entire galaxy!”

The comment feed immediately bristled in protest.

[Excuse me? That’s a bold claim.]

[Just slapping together an attraction doesn’t make it ‘groundbreaking.’ Sure, the castle looks nice, but that’s about it.]

[Heh. Streamer, go check it out. If they actually manage to surprise me, I’ll eat my neural interface live on stream!]

Lai Yuanjia’s expression darkened as he approached the ticket booth.

Before purchasing a ticket, visitors had to sign multiple agreements, confirming they were of legal age and had no history of heart conditions—presumably to prevent any medical emergencies caused by fright.

“Tch. Talk about overhyping it…”

Lai Yuanjia grumbled but begrudgingly paid the fee.

The tour guide added, “The first ten visitors to complete the Haunted House challenge will get their admission fees refunded—and a live, personal autograph from Director Shang!”

Not far away, Jiang Yuran’s eyes lit up. “Director Shang is here? Bro, we have to make the top ten!”

The crowd erupted in excited chatter, their enthusiasm visibly rising.

–

On the second floor of the castle, Shang Jingyan stood by the window, watching the growing crowd below. At the sound of approaching footsteps, she asked, “You’re here?”

It was Pei Yi and You Yao. Shang Jingyan had invited them to be among the first test visitors for the Haunted House.

Pei Yi had a small pouch strapped to his chest. Shang Jingyan’s gaze lingered as the zipper slowly unzipped from the inside, revealing a pair of fluffy white rabbit ears poking out.

“It kept trying to escape, so I figured I’d just let it stay here,” Pei Yi coughed awkwardly.

Meanwhile, You Yao glanced around eagerly. “So, when do we start? Are the ghosts in this place really like the ones in Eldritch God?”

Shang Jingyan shook her head. “No. The guests downstairs can already read a brief introduction to this Haunted House’s storyline. As they explore, they’ll uncover the full setting.”

Since many of the visitors had already seen Eldritch God, directly copying the movie would take away the element of surprise. Instead, Shang Jingyan had written a brand-new script for the experience.

The story took place after the events of the movie. The Eldritch God and her lover had returned to the depths of the sea, but the castle where they once went for a honeymoom remained plagued by strange phenomena.

An eccentric scientist—expelled from the research institute—had purchased the castle, turning it into his personal underground laboratory. To outsiders, however, he disguised it as a hotel, luring in unsuspecting guests.

The visitors would be playing themselves—the latest victims to be targeted by the mad scientist.

To maintain the perfect eerie atmosphere, Shang Jingyan had imposed a strict limit on group sizes. The castle had multiple routes, and each group could have no more than five people at a time.

However, she had no plans to ban livestreaming. She believed the promotional benefits far outweighed any potential spoilers.

You Yao’s interest was piqued. “Director Shang, don’t just send us in alone—why don’t you come with us?”

“Are you sure? I’m no fun in haunted houses.” Shang Jingyan shrugged.

She was notoriously fearless—very few haunted houses could even make her blink. And considering she had personally designed this one, there wouldn’t be any surprises for her.

Pei Yi laughed. “That works out perfectly. I’m a total coward, so if you’re with us, I won’t be as scared.”

He rested his chin on his hand, suddenly struck with an idea. “Why don’t we… sneak in with the other visitors?”

Shang Jingyan considered it for a moment before her eyes lit up. “That’s actually a great idea.”

You Yao shivered for some reason, feeling a sudden pang of sympathy for whichever poor souls ended up in their group.

Pei Yi hesitated. “But what if someone recognizes you?”

“No worries. I’m an expert at this.”

True to her word, Shang Jingyan immediately disappeared into the employee changing room. When she emerged moments later, she was completely transformed.

Her hair was now swept up into a neat bun, tucked beneath a pastel pink sun hat. She had swapped her usual attire for a frilly, princess-style outfit, oversized pink sunglasses covering half her face, with a mask snugly secured under her chin.

Even her posture had changed—gone was her usual relaxed swagger, replaced with an air of quiet arrogance.

Pei Yi blinked, stunned, his rabbit equally dumbfounded in his arms.

Shang Jingyan, unfazed by their stares, tilted her chin up with a smirk. “Impressive, right? It’s all about technique. If I didn’t understand acting myself, how could I possibly direct actors?”

–

Lai Yuanjia’s designated route started in the castle’s underground level, with the final destination on the top floor.

The tour guide suggested he form a four-person team, but he found that too disruptive for his livestream and declined.

Creak—

The heavy wooden door groaned shut behind him. Lai Yuanjia took a deep breath and looked around—he was in an underground crypt.

He stood in a long corridor of dark stone bricks, dimly lit by flickering torches. The walls on either side were lined with rusted iron-barred cells.

Inside the cells, the remnants of rotting bedding lay scattered, their original white color long since lost to filth. In several cells, skeletons still dangled from rusted chains.

His audience had already received a crash course on haunted house attractions, but now that they were actually inside, no one had any complaints.

Because, honestly? They’d never seen anything quite like this.

And, weirdly enough… it actually seemed kind of fun?

The stone floor was cracked and uneven, red-brown stains seeping into the gaps.

Drip. Drip.

The faint sound of liquid falling echoed around him, its source unknown.

Unlike virtual horror games, reality had a way of making fear feel too real. The line between fiction and reality blurred in places like this.

“Tch, what’s there to be scared of? If this place makes me flinch even a little, I’ll give them credit.”

Rather than critiquing the concept, Lai Yuanjia shifted his focus to mocking the so-called ‘exile planet exaggeration.’

The passage grew narrower—soon, he had to turn sideways to pass. The stone walls gave way to corroded metal, eerily illuminated by sickly green lighting.

A chilling image flashed through his mind:

When this was still a functioning prison, the inmates could reach through the bars and touch the hands of those across from them.

A shiver ran down his spine.

[Holy crap, this is actually terrifying.]

[Wait, is this really the first of its kind? I still can’t believe it…]

[What’s at the end of this corridor? I don’t think I want to know.]

Suddenly, from within the cells, breathing sounds emerged—many of them.

Lai Yuanjia’s breath hitched.

For the first time, cold sweat formed on his back.

His feet felt glued to the ground, but his pride wouldn’t let him stop walking.

Then, without warning, he froze in place.

Something—something was touching his back.

And then, slowly, it gripped his shirt.

[Streamer, turn around. Just take a look.]

[Oh my god, what the hell is that?!]

[Jesus, what kind of nightmare NPC is this?!]

Lai Yuanjia swallowed hard and turned his head inch by inch.

A figure with long, disheveled hair and a blue-and-white hospital gown was clutching his clothes!

“Help me… help me…”

It was impossible to tell if the person was male or female. Their voice was weak and broken, barely more than a breath. Bloodshot eyes peeked out from beneath the tangled hair, their mouth devoid of teeth, skin sunken and gaunt. It was impossible to tell whether they were human or something else entirely.

Lai Yuanjia’s hair stood on end. He let out a sharp yell: “What the hell?!”

Yanking himself free, he bolted forward.

More hands began reaching through the iron bars. All of them clad in hospital gowns, their skin rotting, some missing fingernails entirely.

“Help me…”

“Save me, save me…”

“Don’t leave, don’t leave…”

“Please, save me!!”

The NPCs’ cries surged like waves, their desperation and resentment almost tangible.

[This is insane. What kind of Dreamweaver goes this hard just to build a haunted house?!]

[I swear, I’m about to scream too!]

[My god, I nearly forgot this isn’t real!!]

“Holy shit, don’t touch me, don’t touch me!!” Lai Yuanjia was losing it. His brain told him these were just special effects, but his body screamed otherwise—he could almost feel their rotting flesh clinging to him.

The further he ran, the more high-tech the setting became. The iron-bar cells gave way to hospital rooms with one-way glass walls, but the bloodstains on the floor only looked fresher.

Behind the glass, countless hands pounded desperately. The figures inside were blurred, distorted.

Some patients begged for help. Some shrieked in agony. Others rammed their heads against the glass, blood snaking down the surface in eerie trails.

[Where the hell IS this place?!]

[This is psychological torture!!]

[If I had to walk through this, I’d lose my mind for real!]

Lai Yuanjia abandoned all pretense of composure and sprinted for the exit. At the end of the hall, stairs led up. He scrambled out of the underground level, his heart hammering in his chest.

He barely had time to calm himself—he was now on the first floor of the castle, somewhere near the lake. The sound of dripping water suddenly made sense.

Another long corridor stretched ahead, narrow and claustrophobic, keeping the pressure on. Gritting his teeth, he pressed forward. Midway through, the solid floor turned into transparent glass, revealing dark waters below. Strange bioluminescent creatures pulsed in the depths.

[I hate deep water I can’t see the bottom of!]

[I can’t look, but I can’t stop watching—this haunted house is cursed!!]

[Streamer, maybe it’s time to call it quits. I just looked up Dreamweaver Shang Jingyan—this guy is the real deal!]

“I’m not quitting!” Lai Yuanjia snapped, humiliated that chat was starting to doubt him.

Clinging to the wall for support, he forced himself forward—until suddenly, from beneath the water, a black tentacle shot up and slammed against the glass!

“AAAAAHHHH!!”

Lai Yuanjia’s nerves were already frayed to the breaking point. This sent him over the edge.

Beneath the glass, the water churned violently, as if some colossal beast lurked below, restless, trying to break free.

The tentacles were covered in eerie, glowing patterns—poisonous-looking, deep-sea monstrosities straight out of a nightmare.

BANG. BANG. BANG!

The tentacles hammered the glass harder and harder. Cracks spiderwebbed across the surface.

Lai Yuanjia nearly collapsed. His brain refused to process the fact that these fractures were just an illusion on the screen.

And then—

A sudden, wet, slimy touch against his palm.

“AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!”

His scream was earsplitting, raw with terror.

With a deafening crash, the metal mesh barrier beside him tore open. A tentacle burst through and coiled around his wrist.

[OH MY GOD HELP, I’M JUST WATCHING AND I’M TERRIFIED!!]

[Okay, okay, I admit it—this haunted house is NEXT LEVEL.]

[Nope, nope, I’m out. Streamer, I’m abandoning you!!]

Lai Yuanjia lost all semblance of control. Screaming his lungs out, he scrambled down the hallway, slipping and stumbling. Every step he took, the sound of shattering glass followed, tentacles thrashing wildly beneath his feet.

He had no idea where he was running. He only knew he had to get away.

A half-open door appeared ahead. Salvation!

He flung himself inside and slammed it shut.

The room was dark. Silent. Damp with the scent of mold.

For the first time, Lai Yuanjia dared to breathe.

Then—

A screeching sound behind him.

Lightning from outside flashed through the castle windows, illuminating the room.

Right in front of him, a man in a white lab coat loomed. A gas mask obscured his face—but from beneath the mask, countless writhing tentacles slithered out.

In his hand, he held a buzzing power drill.

Lai Yuanjia’s breath caught in his throat.

Tears sprung to his eyes as he let out a wail: “AAAAAHHHH!!”

—

Unlike Lai Yuanjia, the Jiang siblings were more cautious. They decided to form a team right at the entrance.

Their group consisted of three strangers—two guys and a girl. Judging by their dynamic, they weren’t couples, just friends.

The girl stood out the most. Dressed in a frilly princess-style dress, casually sucking on a lollipop, and towering at least 5’9”.

“She’s so cute,” Jiang Yuran whispered to her brother, Jiang Yubai. “Sweet but badass.”

Jiang Yubai, knowing his sister had a habit of befriending strangers at lightning speed, simply muttered, “Just don’t let us scare her instead.”

Their team entered through a side door, stepping into the grand hall of the castle.

Unlike the movies, the hall was cluttered with junk, creating blind spots and forcing them into a winding path forward.

Jiang Yubai instinctively hunched his shoulders, clutching his sister’s sleeve.

Their teammates seemed unfazed. The princess-dress girl took the lead, strolling through the haunted house like she was on a casual evening walk.

The decorations were unsettling—like a vase filled not with flowers, but a doll’s severed head.

Then, as they rounded a delicate oriental screen—

Laughter.

A child’s giggle echoed through the empty castle.

“FUCK!” Jiang Yubai swore, nearly bursting into tears. Jiang Yuran froze beside him.

“La, la, la… heeheehee…”

The voice drifted, eerie and distant, like someone singing a nursery rhyme. Footsteps pitter-pattered somewhere nearby.

“One… two… three…”

Jiang Yuran’s blood ran cold.

It was counting them.

[Shang Jingyan, you evil genius!!]

[This is terrifying, but I WANT IN. Way scarier than a roller coaster!]

[That voice was used in a short horror film before—it’s even creepier in this setting!!]

“Nope, nope, I’m not listening!” Jiang Yuran covered her ears and yanked her brother along in a mad dash.

But then—

“Hey, look,” the princess-dress girl said casually. “The head’s gone.”

Jiang Yuran glanced back.

The doll’s head in the vase was missing.

Jiang Yubai’s knees nearly buckled.

“…Are you one of the actors?!”

The letters and punctuation slanted downward to the right, with the last character in “run” barely visible. A long streak trailed from the final comma, as if the person had started writing while standing but had been dragged away, struggling to leave a message.

Jiang Yuran shivered and rubbed her goosebumps. “Alright, left it is!”

The girl in the princess dress eagerly nodded. “Sounds good to me!”

[Knowing Director Shang, both paths are probably terrifying. Brace yourselves for the storm. (doge emoji)]

[Director Shang: Since you’re here, might as well get the full experience.]

[That girl is seriously fearless. Her two friends look like they’ve seen a ghost, and she’s just strolling along. So jealous!]

Sure enough, they had barely taken a few steps when “surprise” arrived. A figure in a blue-and-white hospital gown, its head wrapped in writhing octopus tentacles, staggered toward them—then lunged!

Chaos erupted instantly.

“Mom!! Bro, save me!” Jiang Yuran shrieked.

She jumped in sheer panic, arms outstretched, instinctively seeking Jiang Yubai for support. Instead, she wrapped herself around the octopus-headed creature.

Jiang Yubai: “?”

Octopus NPC: “?”

Jiang Yuran: “…?”

Something felt off. She opened her eyes and found herself face-to-face with the creature’s grotesque mouthpiece. A cold chill ran down her spine.

Jiang Yubai yanked her away, yelling, “What are you waiting for? Run!!”

The NPC, still new to the role, took a second to register what was happening before belatedly raising its arms and giving chase.

[Hahaha, I’m dying! The NPC: ‘I did NOT sign up for this workplace harassment.’]

[Why is this both terrifying and hilarious at the same time?!]

[Did anyone catch that trashy streamer Lai Yuanjia? He got scared out of his mind—so satisfying to watch! Over there, it’s a horror movie. Over here, it’s a full-blown comedy.]

Watching from the control room, Shang Jingyan was speechless.

How the hell did they turn a haunted house into a comedy show?!

She shook her head, amused. Since haunted house NPCs weren’t a thing in interstellar history, Xue Jiang hadn’t had time to train staff. Most actors had been replaced with robots, but for chase sequences like this, human NPCs were still the best choice.

Despite their fear, the Jiang siblings made steady progress. Shang Jingyan noted their advance and decided to take a shortcut—she needed to get to the finish line ahead of them to sign autographs for the guests.

“I’m heading out first. Keep them from panicking,” she told Pei Yi and You Yao.

The two of them: “…”

You’re leaving us behind in a haunted house, and we’re supposed to not panic?!

Unfazed, Shang Jingyan moved through the dim corridors. The haunted house didn’t really scare her—90% of the effect came from atmosphere. If you knew the script, all that was left were predictable jump scares.

She pulled out her comms device and messaged the anonymous account from last time: [Did I do a good job?]

As a director, she was skilled at knowing when to push for more.

Reality Matter Society’s motto was “Return to Reality,” and from that perspective, her haunted house project had done exactly that—dragging countless players away from VR gaming and into a real-world experience. A huge success.

Might as well get paid for it. At this point, she might as well have “Give me a bonus” written on her forehead.

A moment of silence from the other side. Then, a transfer notification popped up.

[10,000 Star Credits received.]

Shang Jingyan had been testing the waters, seeing how much Reality Matter Society was willing to invest in her.

Seeing the transfer, she had no problem sweetening the deal: [Much appreciated! I’ll continue developing the next phase.]

[Good.] The response was brief, followed by: [We will find our wings again.]

Shang Jingyan raised an eyebrow and typed back slowly: [We will find our wings again.]

She put away her device and reached up to undo her bun, letting her long white hair spill over her shoulders. The dim lighting made it hard to see, and as she fumbled, a hairpin got stuck, partially covering her face.

Resigned, she walked forward, still untangling her hair, just as she turned a corner where the flickering green emergency light gave the eerie impression that something might jump out at any moment—

“AHHH!! HOLY SHIT, A GHOST!!”

A bloodcurdling scream shattered the silence.

Not Shang Jingyan’s.

The octopus-headed NPC had stumbled upon her.

Shang Jingyan: “…”

She thought about her current look—hair down, awkward movements—and suddenly understood.

Yeah, she probably did look like a ghost.

The NPC pressed itself against the wall in terror.

Raising a hand in a non-threatening gesture, Shang Jingyan said, “Relax, I’m human.”

To prove it, she deliberately moved away at a slow, non-aggressive pace.

Only after she disappeared down the hallway did the NPC whip out their comms device and frantically call HQ.

“HELP! When the hell did we add a new NPC in B01?! Nobody told me!”

Control room: “What? We didn’t.”

Octopus NPC: “…”

Then what the hell did I just see?!

—

Meanwhile, on the interstellar web, a ton of the first wave of visitors had started livestreaming. Unfortunately, most of them spent more time screaming than filming properly, leaving audiences both frustrated and eager to see more.

Except for Lai Yuanjia, a professional streamer whose stabilized camera had captured everything in crystal-clear detail.

His humiliating reactions, in stark contrast to his usual arrogance, gave the people of the Exiled Star System a rare sense of satisfaction. Soon, #LaiYuanjiaGetsOwned was trending.

[Hah! Finally got what was coming to him. Always acting so high and mighty just because he was born in the Central Star System, like he’s some aristocrat or something.]

[Wait, who designed this haunted house? It looks insane!]

[Not a designer, a Dreamweaver. This is part of an amusement park based on the IP ‘Married to the Eldritch God,’ developed by an Exiled Star System Dreamweaver.]

[Who says the outer systems can’t innovate? Director Shang’s work is one-of-a-kind in the universe!]

The comments section exploded with excitement. Many who had been put off by Lai Yuanjia’s snobbery were now actively looking up the attraction, while Exiled Star System residents proudly spread the word.

[Shang Jingyan’s films are amazing! New fan guide: [link]]

[I NEED to visit! I’ve never been to the Exiled Star System, but their attractions look sick.]

[It wasn’t always like this. It’s all thanks to Shang Jingyan striking a deal with the Xue family’s new head to develop a completely new concept.]

[They’re even working on a Chinese-style haunted house next! Ugh, I missed the reservation. Hope they add more slots!]

—

Back in the haunted house, Lai Yuanjia had no idea how he’d managed to flee that last room. He knew his reputation was tanking fast, but he had no time to care.

Panting heavily, he hesitated to move forward, unwilling to be seen as a coward yet too terrified to continue. Then, a cunning idea struck him—

If he could find an employee entrance, he could sneak out and pretend he got lost. The park wouldn’t call him out, right?

[Uh, dude, that’s kinda lame. You’re ruining the game.]

[Shouldn’t people from the Central Star System be setting a better example?]

[Bro, we get it, you’re scared. But this is next-level dumb.]

Even his own viewers were turning against him, baffled by his lack of logic.

But Lai Yuanjia ignored the chat. He had already found a hidden door behind a curtain and was yanking at the lock—

Just as, on the other side of the wall, Shang Jingyan happened to be walking by.

Shang Jingyan: “?”

What the hell is that noise?