From Smut to Survival

I’m the main character of a steamy romance novel.

My specialty? Taking anything—black, white, you name it—and turning it fifty shades of scandalous.

So, on my first day in a horror game…

When the final boss told everyone to choose their own death…

The words just tumbled out of my mouth:

“I choose to die breathless, legs trembling, eyes losing focus, heart pounding… until the very end.”

The Boss: “?”

1

[Welcome to the SSS-Rank Instance: ‘The Wish’]

[Please choose your method of death!]

The moment I was pulled into the horror game and met up with my teammates, a strange man materialized before us.

His head was a swirling vortex of black mist, his face completely obscured. An aura of unspeakable dread bled from him, chilling the air.

“Shit!” a guy with bleached-blond hair swore under his breath. “Are you kidding me? Do they think a few cheap special effects are gonna make me fall for this crap?”

Blondie had been complaining nonstop since we arrived. No matter how the veteran players tried to explain the situation, he was convinced we were all in on some elaborate prank to screw with him.

He stomped forward, shoving a hand toward the mysterious man. “I’m warning you! Let me the hell out of here, or I’ll—What the—!”

His hand passed right through the man’s form as if through smoke.

Horrified, he snatched his hand back. But as he stared at it, his fingers began to dissolve, disintegrating into a fine, crimson mist.

“What… What’s happening to me? Help… Somebody help me!”

Tears and snot streamed down Blondie’s face as he scrambled back toward us. But it was too late. In a matter of seconds, his body abruptly burst, splattering gore and viscera across the floor.

The system’s voice echoed, cold and impersonal.

[Deaths: 1]

[Survivors: 7]

[Keep up the good work, players!]

The man in front of us hadn’t moved a muscle. He simply repeated his earlier statement, his voice a low, empty drone.

“Welcome to the SSS-Rank Instance: ‘The Wish.’ Please choose your method of death.”

2

We were all frozen, paralyzed by a mixture of shock and terror.

Suddenly, lines of text began to scroll across my vision, like comments in a livestream.

[Damn, this group is unlucky. ‘The Wish’ has a 0% clear rate. It’s the toughest instance known to exist.]

[The Boss grants every player’s wish, but always in the most twisted, horrifying way possible.]

[As soon as you enter, you face him. He forces everyone to wish for their own death, then ‘mercifully’ grants it.]

[To survive, you have to find the one single, correct wish.]

[Tons of top-tier players have wiped here. This bunch looks pretty average. How long do you think they’ll last?]

After witnessing Blondie’s gruesome end, nobody dared to be the next guinea pig.

The dead silence stretched on, thick and heavy.

Finally, the Boss’s patience wore thin. His voice turned sharp as ice.

“Since none of you have a wish… I’ll just start reaping at random.”

A colossal scythe materialized from the black mist behind him, its blade gleaming menacingly...