Ever since Shang Jingyan transmigrated, she had always felt a strange sense of detachment, like she wasn’t fully grounded in this world. Even after the system had reinforced her stability, that feeling still lingered.

But now, for the first time, it faded—just a little.

And just like that, the swirling black mist before her was no longer some incomprehensible entity.

It was… cookies.

With newfound enthusiasm, she continued playing the projection. The black mist recoiled further and further, revealing the unicorn’s previously obscured wound. The only odd thing was that the unicorn itself was also backing away.

“Hey, don’t move! I’m healing you.”

Shang Jingyan, still a glowing mass of light, clung to the unicorn’s neck to stop it from retreating. “Look, the black mist is disappearing! Don’t you feel much better?”

As the film reached the part where blood started seeping from the castle ceiling, the unicorn’s expression turned even more horrified.

By the time the episode finished, the black mist had completely withdrawn from the wound.

“Don’t run away! I’m not done eating yet.”

Shang Jingyan surrounded the unicorn with a full 360-degree projection, forcing the mist to sit through the next episode. With no way to escape, the mist could only resign itself to its fate, looking utterly defeated as it was purified into nothingness.

The unicorn hesitated for a moment, then lifted a front hoof in surprise. Shang Jingyan studied the wound and, after some thought, channeled a portion of the energy she had just absorbed.

As expected, the wound began healing at an incredible speed.

The unicorn neighed softly, its beautiful eyes filled with gratitude as it nuzzled against Shang Jingyan.

Shang Jingyan patted its head. “Alright then, see you around.”

The moment the mental connection was severed, she was hit with a wave of post-meal lethargy. She felt both overstuffed and exhausted, as if she’d overexerted herself. Struggling to stay awake, she figured she should probably get some sleep.

Across from her, Dr. Tian Jiangli was also just waking up.

“Huh?…”

She looked dazed, as if she hadn’t fully processed what just happened. It took her a second to realize that she had actually dozed off during the session.

Embarrassed, she quickly apologized. “I’m so sorry! I must’ve been too tired.”

Falling asleep in the middle of a session? That was practically malpractice. Tian Jiangli’s face turned red with shame.

Shang Jingyan shook her head. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Actually, it was my fault. Cough.

Feeling guilty, Tian Jiangli admitted that she probably wasn’t in the best condition to continue treating patients today. Shang Jingyan didn’t mind and casually got up to leave. But just before stepping out, she paused and asked,

“Dr. Tian, when you fell asleep just now, did you… feel anything?”

She was genuinely curious about the effects of her ‘horror film therapy.’

Tian Jiangli scratched her cheek, hesitant. Normally, doctors weren’t supposed to share their own experiences with patients, but her dream had been so bizarre that she couldn’t help but say,

“I… I had a nightmare.”

“I dreamed of this incredibly bright light—so bright it hurt my eyes. And inside the light, there were terrifying monsters! I didn’t want to look, but someone was holding my head, forcing me to watch.”

Still shaken, she placed a hand over her chest and muttered, “It was really scary. Maybe I’ve been under too much stress lately?”

Shang Jingyan: …

Maintaining a straight face, she replied, “Huh. That’s a pretty weird nightmare.”

—

After Shang Jingyan left, Tian Jiangli sat on the couch, rubbing her temples.

Mental therapists also had to undergo regular check-ups to monitor their own mental health. Healing others meant they accumulated a lot of negative energy themselves.

During her last evaluation, her supervisor had warned her that she was showing early signs of Psychic Void Syndrome and needed to take better care of herself.

And yet, she had continued working. Resources were scarce in the Exile Star System, and here, even the healers were often sick themselves.

After that incident, she had already resigned herself to the inevitability of falling ill…

Was what just happened a sign of her condition worsening?

Strangely enough, she didn’t feel exhausted at all.

Puzzled, Tian Jiangli entered her own mental landscape to take a look—

And nearly jumped out of her seat.

What the hell?

Her mental core… had healed?!

—

[Won’t they notice?] X71, the system, had been silently observing the entire time.

[There’s no proof.]

Shang Jingyan had only undergone a basic fluctuation scan today, not a full assessment.

A person’s mental power level wasn’t something that changed easily. If she suddenly tested way beyond the original host’s baseline, she’d definitely be dragged in for research.

Perhaps due to the energy she expended during the treatment, it took her two whole days to fully recover.

The moment she opened her eyes, the system sounded the alarm: [Host! You’re finally awake! You’ve missed a lot! People are questioning you!]

[Questioning me?] Shang Jingyan raised an eyebrow as the system flooded her with screenshots and links. At the very top was a forum post titled:

“I’ll admit that Married to the Eldritch God is a fresh and outstanding work, BUT…”

[At first, this post didn’t gain much traction,] the system explained, [but after about ten hours, it suddenly blew up. At the same time, a bunch of similar posts started spreading, all demanding that Evergreen Streaming clarify the competition’s judging criteria. Someone’s definitely pulling strings behind the scenes!]

The original post had already racked up five or six pages of replies.

X71 was freaking out, but Shang Jingyan remained calm. She had expected this.

With less than three days left until the competition ended, her ranking had risen to 48th place—even with only two-thirds of her story published.

That must have made a lot of people jealous. And as an unknown newcomer with no connections, she was an easy target.

[Don’t worry,] she said with a smirk. [They’re being way too impatient. They haven’t even seen my full outline, yet they’re claiming I don’t meet the criteria?]

Ignoring the online chaos, she got back to work on the final episode.

And exactly one day later, at midnight—

The conclusion of Married to the Eldritch God went live.

Evergreen Streaming Division

Ever since watching Eldritch God, Admin No. 3 hadn’t been able to get it out of her head.

She’d seen the skepticism online these past few days. Fans of Eldritch God were anxious but had no solid rebuttal. Honestly, that forum post had a point—so far, the two protagonists were practically strangers wrapped in the illusion of a relationship. There was no sign of love developing, making the so-called “slow-burn romance” feel like a total farce.

Frustrated, the admin had rewatched the released episodes multiple times, even setting up notifications for new updates. The moment Jingyan dropped a new episode, she perked up immediately.

“She’s really not going to address the controversy? …” That felt a little off to her, but she still rushed to Azure Snow’s livestream.

She needed to watch it in a group—watching alone was just too unsettling. This time, though, she remembered to use a burner account.

The chat in the livestream was carefully maintaining peace, with Azure Snow tightening moderation to keep any drama out of sight.

Picking up where they left off, the protagonist’s girlfriend had disappeared, and now the police had taken him in for questioning.

The interrogation was relentless. The officers grilled him over and over about his girlfriend, forcing him to confront the truth—

She was gone.

“This type of being can only parasitize a dead body upon its first descent into this world. And the time when it went missing perfectly coincides with your girlfriend’s so-called ‘recovery’ at the hospital.”

The officer’s voice was cold and matter-of-fact. “Your girlfriend died at the scene of the crash. In fact, you two had already broken up before that. Don’t you remember? You were there in the hospital, watching as her vitals flatlined on the monitor.”

The male lead’s pupils constricted as memories flooded back—

The beeping of the heart monitor. His tears spilling onto the hospital bed. Then, through the blur of grief, he’d lifted his head—

Only to see her corpse open its eyes, staring at him in confusion.

He’d even seen it. The multifaceted, insect-like pupils that flickered in her gaze. The black tendrils writhing beneath her skin.

And what did he do?

He froze.

He stood there as the creature adapted to its new body, as it fully took human form. Then, as if possessed, he reached for her hand and murmured, Thank God, you’re alive.

Then he announced her miraculous recovery to the world.

—The thing was, before all this, she had already wanted to break up with him. Those warm, loving memories he clung to? A total illusion. She had stopped loving him long ago.

She had only invited him on that fateful drive to revisit their first date spot—one final goodbye. But fate had other plans.

The hospital staff had seen the monitor readings. Her recovery had been far too fast, too unnatural. Her family protested, even her own parents refused to acknowledge her.

But the male lead dug in his heels. He proposed. He moved in with her. He cut ties with everyone who doubted them.

As the memories came rushing back, he clutched his head and let out a scream.

Not even twenty minutes into the episode, and Admin No. 3 was already staring in shock. The livestream chat was blowing up:

[Holy shit, what a twist! So he always knew she was dead but just… suppressed it?!]

[Dude really gaslit himself into believing it? Absolute madman. This is some next-level horror romance.]

[Oh my god. No wonder all the family portraits had their faces ripped out. No wonder they never contacted anyone during their honeymoon. No wonder their wedding had no guests. No wonder it was always just ‘the two of them’… I thought it was just budget constraints, but it was all foreshadowing?!]

[I mean, yeah, probably a budget thing too, but the way it all ties together? Genius.]

[I take it back, I thought she was the scary one. But honestly? He’s worse.]

[Wait, so from her perspective, the story goes: I escaped from a lab, possessed a corpse, and the moment I woke up, some guy was crying with joy and immediately cut off everyone who doubted me. He loved me so much, I was moved. Maybe I should love him too. He does look at me weird sometimes, but whatever—I guess I won’t kill him.]

Just then, the admin’s phone buzzed. It was a notification—

Jingyan had just posted their first-ever social media update:

@Jingyan: “Here’s the ‘love’ you asked for. Enjoy.”

Three minutes later, the top comment:

[Fk, Eldritch God really is a love story after all. I believe it now.]