"Clang!"
Grace landed on his back in a most ungracious manner.
The tailbone meeting the unforgiving ground sent a muffled throb of pain through him, twisting his expression as he bit back a curse.
But, it wasn't the time for complaints.
Swallowing down his grievances, Grace grimaced, lifting his head to swiftly survey his surroundings.
Bright fluorescent lights overhead, a grimy sink before him, and rows of deep-blue stalls behind—everything from the color scheme to the facilities was newer than any scene he'd encountered in previous missions.
Clearly, he was in a bathroom.
A women's bathroom.
"..."
Even those not fond of movies knew such a setting was a horror genre's darling.
Suddenly finding himself alone here, Grace, far from courageous, felt a spike of fear.
Keep it together, keep it together.
He chanted inwardly.
Grace approached the door, giving it a firm push.
It didn't budge.
The doorknob rattled under his grip, making a 'click-clack' sound, but the door itself might as well have been cemented shut for all the movement he got from it.
...
No panic, no panic.
And this is a level-D mission! It shouldn't be so quick to throw someone into a no-exit scenario.
Grace closed his eyes, attempting to calm down.
He reached into his pocket for his ID card.
**[ID Card]**
Name: Tyler (changed to: Grace/Audrey)
Age: 16 (changed to: ???)
Occupation: Talent Middle School freshman (changed to: Talent Middle School freshman intern teacher/Niece of the guidance counselor)
Relevant Plot: Yet to be unlocked (changed to: ???)
Grace noticed the lines related to "Grace" had darkened significantly, whereas the text for "Audrey" was a faint grey, almost as if it might vanish any second.
He appeared pensive.
It seemed the more people who believed in this identity, the more solid it became, akin to being gradually acknowledged.
So, as long as his identity wasn't exposed, might he be able to craft an unprecedented storyline in this mission?
—Like rewriting the script.
He steadied his mind, reining in his wandering thoughts.
This wasn't something for someone with a life hanging by a thread to worry over.
Flipping the ID card, he saw the time frozen at 21:05, immobile.
The static countdown struck him.
It meant that "hidden sidelines" didn't consume survival time.
Not wasting time was good.
But... it also suggested a dangerous trend.
Outside, survival time, though a limit, also served as a sort of protection.
According to a seasoned broadcaster, in these minor missions, as long as you played by the rules and didn't do anything stupid, you wouldn't lose time, providing a mental cushion.
In this "hidden sideline," that rule clearly didn't apply.
Meaning, whatever came next was unpredictable.
Grace shivered, a foreboding feeling rising within him.
Just then, a mechanical voice void of life spoke into his ear: "Ding, broadcaster's live feed hits two hours. Commence point tally?"
"Start it," he replied.
"In E-level broadcast room 789326qwk, with an average viewership of 2000 per hour, you earn 200 points.
Detected you're a rookie broadcaster, your earned points for this broadcast are doubled, tallying to 400 in your account.
You are 4600 points away from upgrading your broadcast room. Keep up the good work and shine brighter!"
"During this broadcast, you received tips from 63 people, totaling 500 tipping points.
Detected you're a rookie broadcaster, the system will not take a cut this time, depositing another 500 points to your account."
**[Your account balance: 900]**
**[Next point tally: 24:00]**
"Wait a minute..." Grace suddenly realized something, "You take a cut of the tips?"
"Yes," the dispassionate voice politely answered, "After the rookie phase, the system's cut from tips will gradually increase."
"..."
Grace felt a twitch at the corner of his eye, accepting resignedly, "You guys sure know how to make a buck."
He had a bad feeling, and continued, "And the viewership points? You take a cut from those?"
"No."
Before Grace could breathe a sigh of relief, the mechanical voice added:
"However, as your broadcaster rating increases, the points conversion rate will adjust flexibly. All our rules aim to enhance viewers' experience, rest assured."
—Which meant, what's one to ten now, might not be in the future, right?
Grace: "..."
Why should I feel assured!
The viewers' watching experience is literally costing me my life!
Damn capitalists!
Before he could probe further, footsteps approached outside the bathroom, followed by the soft giggles and murmurs of two girls.
"!"
Startled, Grace instinctively dashed into a stall.
As he hid, the previously immovable bathroom door swung open easily with a creak.
"Tap, tap, tap."
Light footsteps and the girls' conversation drifted in.
"...Have you heard about that?"
A thrilling whisper.
"What?"
"The legend, that legend!"
Grace, hidden in the stall, listened with a complex feeling.
As a grown man hiding in a girls' bathroom listening in...
It was borderline perverse.
The girls outside continued.
"Ah! You mean..."
"Yes!"
Unbeknownst, they stopped right in front of Grace's hideout, shadows flitting under the door as their voices clearly reached him:
"There's a mirror in Room 408 of the dorm. Find it, and it grants you a wish."
Another hesitated, "Do we have a 408 on the fourth floor?"
"They say it's sealed with cement."
The girl's voice turned secretive, "You have to look after midnight to find it, and once you open the door..."
"Stop, I don't want to hear it!"
Another voice, panicked, cut her off, "Teacher Aaliyah would lock you in solitary if she caught us!"
"That old witch?"
Her tone darkened, "She slapped me and skipped my dinner just last week. That ugly, vile, disgusting woman, the world's better off without her."
"Quiet, she might hear..."
"I don't care." A giggly retort, "She better not mess with me if I find that mirror. She won't get off easy."
The sinks turned on and off as the girls washed their hands, their footsteps and laughter fading.
With their departure, the bathroom returned to an unnerving silence.
Grace released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and glanced towards the gap under the stall.
The shadow was gone.
...They've left?
He reached for the door, intending to exit.
"Drip."
A sound from outside halted his hand.
"Drip, drip."
Closer, right beyond the door.
"Drip."
A drop of blood, thick and scarlet, fell from the ceiling, staining the pale skin of his hand.
Frozen, a chill slithered down Grace's spine, a nameless terror gripping him.
Then, a tickle at his neck.
It felt as if... long hair was dangling from the ceiling, brushing gently against his sweat-drenched skin.
At that moment, a girl's giggling voice echoed above him:
"Found you, peeping."
Before the word 'you' fully landed, Grace kicked the stall door fiercely.
Half the door flew off, hitting the floor with a crash, stirring dust.
The next second, like his tail was on fire, Grace bolted out, not looking back as he sprinted out of the bathroom.
"..."
The audience in his live feed was just as shocked.
"?"
"???"
"I was waiting for the jump-scare, and he just runs?!"
"So mad! Look up! What are we supposed to watch if you don't look up?!"
"Damn, this guy runs faster than a rabbit, swear I saw afterimages."
"HAHAHAHAHAHA, LOL, seriously, the desperation is spilling out of my screen, guys, I can't stop laughing."
Aaaaah! There's something behind me!
As Grace internally screamed, legs pumping furiously.
Hell, why wait? What, for a polite request, "Mind if I kill you?"
Forget what it is, run first, ask questions later!
Emerging from the bathroom, he was back in the familiar, dark corridor of the dorm, stretching endlessly out of sight.
Clearly, he was back in the dorm building, but everything seemed newer, the stains on walls and floors mostly gone, placing him outside his known timeline.
Then, from behind, came a rustling, something grazing against walls and floor.
Grace glanced back while running.
That glance sent shivers down his spine.
Black hair, like writhing snakes, crawled out from the bathroom, stretching towards him. Amidst this dark tide, pale limbs intertwined, advancing ominously.
A tinny, disconnected humming filled the air.
A dispassionately mechanical voice announced:
**[Congratulations, broadcaster has triggered scenario: Chase
Countdown: 10:00]**
Following that, two health bars appeared in his vision.
One for life, one for sanity.
**[If life health bar drops to zero, broadcaster dies, live feed ends.
If sanity health ends, broadcaster becomes part of the mission, live feed ends.]
[To ensure viewers enjoy a smooth watching experience, please keep the broadcast running without disconnection!]**
"..."
Damn, exploiting every last drop of laborer blood.
His face twisted, Grace pressed onwards, the chasing hair close behind.
Truth be told, Grace was in decent physical shape, even above average.
Having a well-proportioned physique was a job requirement, after all.
In other words, Grace had muscles under his slim appearance. Thus, outrunning whatever was chasing him through the corridors for ten minutes shouldn't be a problem.
But Grace had a feeling this Chase wasn't going to be so straightforward.
"Giggle."
The naive laughter of a girl echoed from everywhere, making it impossible to pinpoint:
"Not playing by the rules, little one, means punishment."
"Drip, drip—"
In the dim light, viscous blood dropped slowly, hitting the floor with an echo.
Grace watched as the blood spot on the floor began to darken and seem alive, the previously solid ground turning black and soft, as if teeming with living entities beneath.
"!"
With a swift sidestep, Grace narrowly avoided an assault of hair strands shooting from the floor.
"Drip."
A drop of blood fell, landing on his shoulder.
Grace felt an instant chill on his right side, as terror took hold. For a second, he thought he saw a pale little face clinging to his shoulder, blank eyes staring gleefully at him.
"Damn!"
He shivered, stopping abruptly.
Before Grace could take a closer look, the face vanished, leaving a corroded pit on his shoulder's clothing.
Refocusing, he saw a chunk missing from the sanity health bar overhead.
"..."
So, sanity points meant this.
Seizing this moment, the long black hair from the corridor behind crept closer, slowly spreading across the floor like hands reaching out to grab him.
"Hehe."
A pallid figure turned the corner.
"Little red comb, combing in front of the mirror, comb once till the end, smart and beautiful, comb twice till the end, happiness never far away..."
The childish rhyme echoed through the empty hallway, sending shivers down Grace's spine.
The corridor lights flickered, faintly illuminating the twisted, eerie limbs crawling amidst the hair.
Grace's hair stood on end as he turned and bolted, now more cautious and alert, skillfully evading the dripping blood from above and the creeping hair snaking up from below.
As he moved forward, the blood drips increased, making avoidance more challenging.
Finally, as Grace sprinted, the staircase entrance loomed ahead.
A blood-red number was imprinted on the wall: 2.
The staircase ascended and descended, both ends vanishing into darkness, a foreboding sight.
Without hesitation, Grace dashed upstairs.
But just as he took a few steps, he abruptly halted, standing rigid in place.
At the staircase entrance, he glanced back at the approaching dark hair, under the dim lights his face betraying a rare hint of indecision.
In the live room of 789326qwk, discussions were lively.
"Come on, place your bets! Is the streamer going upstairs or downstairs?"
"He's definitely going upstairs, can't leave the dorm building and downstairs is too cramped, only six minutes left in this chase, going downstairs now would be a sure loss."
"Forget it, he doesn't know he can't leave the dorm building, I bet he'll go downstairs!"
"If we think from his perspective, I bet he'll go downstairs! Remember the advice from the old lady in the cafeteria 'stay away from the fourth floor'? If I were him, I wouldn't run upstairs!"
"That advice might be correct, but in this hidden task, survival lies on the fourth floor, it's a pity."
"What are people laughing at? The NPCs in the restroom gave hints, the fourth floor was mentioned several times. Based on the streamer's previous actions, I don't believe he'd miss such a clear clue!"
[Spoilers ahead, for viewer discretion only]
The hair strands drew closer.
Grace's expression wavered, torn between two options.
Finally, as if having made a decision, he retraced his steps, then without looking back, dashed downstairs.
In the live stream, emotions ran high.
"Haha, I knew he'd run downstairs! Most people would think to run straight in this situation!"
"Argh, this streamer was so clever just now, why act foolish now at such a critical moment?"
"Oh, this is so disappointing... I thought this streamer could last a bit longer, turns out he's about to bite the dust again."
"I don't know what to say, can I get a refund for the donations? @Live room moderator"
Watching Grace head towards the exit after descending, the barrage became more impatient.
"What's the point in rushing to the exit? Circle around in the lobby! Six minutes is tight but not impossible!"
"Why the hurry upstairs? It's just a stream, why the emotional investment? I can just switch to another stream."
"To be honest, I've been wanting to see this streamer fail."
"Yeah, watching a newbie stream for the fun, if I want to see a pro ace it, I'd go watch the elite streamers."
Despite the comments, the viewership in the live room, initially at its peak, began to decline, from over two thousand to just above a thousand.
Grace quickened his pace, heading straight for the exit—
He rushed towards the duty room next to him.
This time, without any tools to pick the lock, he lifted his leg and kicked the door with a loud bang, making it crooked and clattered to the ground.
"???"
"??? What is he up to?"
"Isn't it? Is he addicted to running to the duty room? The situation this time is different from last time, why is he going to the duty room again?"
"Tsk tsk, these low-level streamers, they all love sticking to their comfort zones, quite silly, not very interesting."
Grace charged in, went straight to the wardrobe, expertly yanked open the drawer, and grabbed something inside.
Turning around, the flowing hair had reached the duty room, its dark strands climbing up the walls, crossing the threshold, aiming towards its long sought-after prey—
The lobby lights began to flicker under a strange influence.
The pallid limbs contorted, writhing within the tangled hair.
Grace took a deep breath, his forehead and neck covered in cold sweat, his fingers twitching slightly under extreme tension, palms becoming moist.
He steadied himself, starting to hum:
"Little red comb, combing in front of the mirror, comb once till the end, smart and beautiful, comb twice till the end, happiness never far away, comb thrice till the end, hearts meet and content."
The earlier mocking barrage, now silent, suddenly stirred:
"Wait, this tune?"
"These lyrics?!"
"Didn't he forget? Isn't this the boss's tune from earlier?"
"No no no, the boss never sang the last line!"
"!! I get it! Damn! The tune the old witch was humming was always incomplete, now the boss is singing it also incomplete, but it's pieced together now!"
Grace slowly raised his hand, revealing a comb lying in his fair and slender palm.
Like the entire building, time seemed to reverse on this comb; though now dull in color, a hint of its former bright red could be discerned, even the broken teeth restored to completeness.
The undulating hair ceased its movement, becoming still.
Behind the man, the forcefully pulled open drawer remained ajar.
Amongst the scattered items inside, lay a few yellowed photographs.
Before the dust settled, one could see a tall woman standing in an amusement park, next to a thirteen or fourteen-year-old girl with black hair in a large braid draped over her shoulder. Though time had blurred their features, the happiness on their faces was frozen in that narrow photo.
Below, with a pen, a few words were written:
"Wishing Camila a happy birthday."
Grace took a deep breath, stepping forward slowly:
"Camila, Mom... Mom, I miss you so much..."
The barrage fell into a hushed silence.
"..."
"..."
"...What is he saying?"