Giving Interstellar Players a Horror Ghost Game Shock - Chapter 51

Unexpectedly, the game’s mandatory room turned out to be just an ordinary bedroom. But it was decorated in a style that was worlds apart from their own era.

The most eye-catching feature was, of course, the intricately carved wooden bed. Each of its four corners was adorned with posts draped in delicate gauzy curtains embroidered with elegant peonies.

To the interstellar people, this kind of antique aesthetic was utterly alien. As soon as they entered, their gazes were drawn to the bed canopy. It took them a few seconds to look straight ahead, where their breath caught—

Directly across from the door was a massive full-length mirror! Anyone entering would find themselves face-to-face with the shadowy figure in the mirror, catching them off guard with a fright.

The mirror’s base was connected to a small vanity table and cabinet, which held what looked like combs and other grooming tools.

The mirror was made of a strange material they had never seen before, and the reflection it showed was fuzzy and unclear, not nearly as sharp as the mirrors they were used to. It was an antique design from the Tang Dynasty.

Overall, everything in the room appeared to predate even the near-ancient human era. Strictly speaking, these items belonged to a period so distant they could only be described as ancient by Ye Yuxi’s standards—artifacts from a time long past.

However, while Ye Yuxi might appreciate the intentional vintage vibe, the game’s setting wasn’t truly ancient. Players wouldn’t actually have to light kerosene lamps.

So, Liu Yuling, leading the group, easily found the light switch on the wall. When she flipped it on, the eerie atmosphere evaporated instantly.

She even heard Ji Yu let out an audible sigh of relief—though he was still hiding behind his teammates, utterly refusing to be the first to step inside.

Left with no choice, Ye Yuxi entered with Liu Yuling, and Wang Yuze forcibly shoved Ji Yu in after them.

As they silently searched the room, Ye Yuxi glanced at the livestream chat and noticed some viewers saying they were about to leave.

After all, the lack of thrilling content for so long had tested their patience. Not everyone was interested in the game’s historical aesthetics—in fact, most found these archaic elements too incomprehensible and unappealing.

Ye Yuxi knew things couldn’t go on like this. Clearing her throat, she began to narrate:

“This is a dressing table, an essential item for women in their boudoirs in ancient times.”

“In ancient times, women were expected to stay indoors and never leave the house. They weren’t allowed to work and spent their days trapped at home. Just think of all the young women who must have stood in front of their mirrors, secretly crying over their broken dreams and shattered hopes.”

As Ye Yuxi deliberately dragged out her words, everyone listening was involuntarily drawn into the scene she described.

For a moment, it was as if they could see a young woman sitting before the dressing table, applying makeup while tears stained her red-rimmed eyes. Her sorrowful face was reflected in the mirror, and her tears seemed tinged with bl00d…

Wait, why did the image in their minds feel so vivid?

No, this wasn’t their imagination!

There really was a woman sitting in front of the mirror now!

Ji Yu was the first to notice, and he froze in place.

Moments earlier, he had avoided approaching the bed out of fear that a ghost might be hiding beneath it, so he had stayed closer to the mirror. Now, he deeply regretted that choice—he was the closest to the ghost woman!

Swallowing hard, drenched in cold sweat, Ji Yu found his legs paralyzed with fear. He didn’t dare move a muscle.

Liu Yuling was the first to react, trembling as she softly reassured him, “D-Don’t panic. It doesn’t seem like she’s a ghost.”

She raised her camera. “I didn’t capture her image on the camera.”

Ji Yu nearly broke down on the spot.

“Isn’t that even scarier?! Ghosts can be photographed, but she doesn’t show up—what is she?!”

Liu Yuling sighed in exasperation.

“Did you not notice? The room temperature is still normal. Look at the thermometer…”

Her words abruptly cut off.

The red line on the thermometer, which had been steady at 20 degrees, suddenly plummeted.

All the players with synced sensory inputs could feel the temperature dropping rapidly.

At the same time, the woman seemed to have finished applying her makeup. She let out a long, sorrowful sigh and began to slowly turn her head.

Her neck twisted a full 180 degrees, her gaze locking directly onto the intruders.

She stared intently at Ji Yu, who was no longer behind her but now face-to-face with her.

Ji Yu was on the verge of wetting himself.

No joke—he couldn’t even scream. All that came out of his mouth were wheezing gasps, like someone on the brink of suffocation.

The ghost woman had spent ages applying her makeup in the mirror, but what exactly had she been doing? Her face was a horrifying mess: patches of rouge smeared chaotically across her cheeks, eyebrows drawn up to her temples, and bl00d-red streaks at the corners of her mouth—whether it was smeared lipstick or something more sinister was anyone’s guess.

Suddenly, her disastrously painted skin began to peel off in chunks. Within seconds, her entire face was gone, leaving behind a gruesome display of exposed, bloody flesh!

“Ahhh!” Ji Yu was on the verge of tears.

Sister Ghost, I swear I’ll never call you ugly in my head again! Please, just put your skin back on!

Unfortunately for him, once a vengeful ghost begins her hunt, she doesn’t stop until she claims a victim.

The room filled with an icy gale, strong enough to lift the bed curtains into the air.

The three players, who were nearly frozen stiff, snapped out of their daze. Without a word, they bolted for the door, each trying to outrun the others. Despite being the closest to the door in theory, Ji Yu was left behind in the chaos.

Wang Yuze, the last to pass him, hesitated for a split second before his conscience got the better of him. He grabbed Ji Yu and dragged him along.

Ji Yu, deeply moved, was practically sobbing. “Wuwuwu bro, oh my god.”

Wang Yuze’s face twisted in frustration. “Can you move your own legs? Dragging you is too slow!”

Ji Yu wailed, “But my legs are numb—I can’t move!”

Wang Yuze: “…”

Meanwhile, their two unburdened teammates had already escaped the room. Predictably, Wang Yuze, saddled with Ji Yu, didn’t make it out in time.

Just as they were about to cross the threshold, the door slammed shut with a deafening bang.

Two eerily familiar paper dolls appeared on either side of the door. Their faces wore the same stiff, festive smiles, but their blush and lipstick had deepened to a bl00d-red hue, as if freshly painted with gore.

Wang Yuze’s heart leapt into his throat. The sight immediately brought to mind Ji Yu’s previous death in the last round, where he had been pinned to the door and sliced in half. Wang Yuze quickly backed away from the paper “guardians,” forfeiting his chance to escape.

At the same time, the lights in the room began flickering wildly, adding to the terrifying atmosphere. With every flash, the ghostly woman seemed to draw closer.

“Brother Ze, I don’t want to die! Help me!” Ji Yu wailed.

“Shut up! If I’m dying, I’m taking you with me!”

The room filled with the sound of panicked cries and desperate scrambling. Outside, Liu Yuling and Ye Yuxi exchanged uneasy glances. They didn’t want to seem heartless by fleeing in the car, but neither did they dare venture back inside—let alone try to re-enter the haunted room.

They were stuck in a moral dilemma.

Finally, the flickering lights gave out completely, plunging the room into darkness.

A bl00d-curdling scream erupted from within:

“AHHHHHHHH!”

The sheer anguish in the cry sent shivers down Liu Yuling’s spine. She rubbed her goosebumps, raised her voice, and called out,

“Hey! Are you guys still alive in there?”

Even as she asked, a part of her felt certain that both of them were already “dead” and waiting to respawn at the revival point.

After a moment of silence, a trembling voice—Wang Yuze’s—answered from inside:

“I’m still alive, but Liver Bro is… gone…”

Apparently satisfied with claiming one life, the ghost had departed. The door creaked open.

The three survivors wasted no time, stumbling out of the room and scrambling back to the car. No one dared look at Ji Yu’s mangled corpse left behind on the floor.

Back at the vehicle, the team’s physiological data revealed that, except for Ye Yuxi, everyone’s sanity points were dangerously low. Ji Yu’s had already hit zero.

Wang Yuze, once full of bravado when entering the game, now slumped in utter defeat, his face pale and haunted.

He cursed under his breath. What the hell—this is way too terrifying!

Meanwhile, Ji Yu, now waiting at the respawn point, radiated an aura of pure grievance, practically rivaling that of the ghost herself.

Why? WHY?! Why is it always me who ends up like this?

Ye Yuxi watched his expression and couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy.

Honestly, in her original design, situations like this usually resulted in a double kill. A ghost taking just one victim and leaving was actually pretty rare.

No entourage for the afterlife, just Ji Yu alone—if even the game designer herself had to comment, it would be:

Liver Bro, you really died a tragic death.