Chris stared at his phone screen, bewildered. The app icon, depicting the entrance to a haunted house, resembled the popular simulation games that were all the rage—except this one was not about managing a hotel, aquarium, or pet park. Instead, it was about managing a haunted house.
He scrolled through the app's interface, noting that everything seemed eerily aligned with his own haunted house. Daily visitor numbers, the layout of the exhibits—everything was a mirror image of reality. It struck Chris as deeply unsettling, as if the app were a virtual extension of his real-world business.
The similarities were uncanny. Both the app and his haunted house faced financial ruin, and he couldn't shake the feeling that the two were intertwined.
"Could this game be based on my haunted house? If I make changes in the app, will it impact my real-world situation?" Chris pondered.
He continued scrolling, noting that the current exhibits in the app were rated poorly. The "Zombie Resurrection Night," which had once been a major attraction, was deemed utterly mediocre. Even the once headline-grabbing horror projects were rated only half a star.
"If even the major attractions get half a star, I can't imagine how terrifying the unlocked scenes must be," Chris mused. He attempted to unlock more scenes, only to be prompted that he needed to complete daily tasks first.
"Daily tasks are the foundation," he concluded. "Only by completing these tasks can I unlock more terrifying scenes. More scenes will attract more visitors, which will increase revenue and allow for expansion. It's a cycle."
Chris, an avid mobile gamer, quickly grasped the rules: the completion of daily tasks would influence the growth of the haunted house.
The daily tasks section presented three options:
Easy Difficulty: Improve the backstories for "Zombie Resurrection Night" and other horror scenes.
Medium Difficulty: Repair all the mannequin models in the haunted house before midnight.
Nightmare Difficulty: Curiosity about whether ghosts exist? Play a mini-game to find out. The truth will be revealed the moment you open your eyes.
Daily tasks refreshed at midnight, with only one task available per day, each varying in difficulty and reward.
"Are these tasks meant to be completed in reality?" Chris wondered. "Does this mean the game can impact the real world?"
Determined to test his theory, Chris decided to tackle one of the tasks.
The medium difficulty task involved repairing all the mannequins before midnight—a challenge, but doable. He had just completed the task within the deadline after several hours of continuous work.
The notification on his phone read: "You have completed the medium difficulty daily task. Attention to detail is key to creating a perfect horror experience. Congratulations on receiving your reward: 'Black Friday' soundtrack."
Chris raised an eyebrow. "'Black Friday'? Isn't that a banned track? It's rumored to induce suicidal thoughts if listened to extensively. The original track was said to have disappeared."
In the app's inventory, Chris found a CD icon labeled "Black Friday." Skeptical, he clicked on it. A haunting melody filled his ears—one he had never heard before.
The music was otherworldly, filled with solitude and melancholy. Chris felt as though he was sinking into the depths of the ocean or wandering through an endless tunnel. The experience left him drenched in sweat and shaken to his core.
"This is real," he realized. "This must be the original track."
Completing tasks in the game provided real-world rewards, opening a potential path to improving his haunted house's fortunes. He turned off the music and carefully saved it, then retreated to the staff lounge.
Exhausted but wide awake, Chris struggled to sleep, his mind racing with the day's events.
Around midnight, he pulled out his phone. "The daily tasks should have refreshed by now," he thought.
Opening the app, he found new tasks:
Easy Difficulty: Install sound detectors and cameras in the haunted house to monitor visitor flow and timing.
Medium Difficulty: A successful haunted house requires a skilled team. Recruit new staff to help manage the workload.
Nightmare Difficulty: Ever wondered if ghosts are real? Try a mini-game to find out. The truth will be revealed the moment you open your eyes.
The new set of tasks presented Chris with a dilemma.
The easy task required funding for equipment Chris couldn't afford. The medium task involved recruiting new staff—an effort made more challenging by recent resignations and the time needed to train new hires.
With the simple and medium tasks ruled out, Chris's attention turned to the nightmare-level task.
"The higher the difficulty, the better the reward," he reasoned. "Maybe it's worth a shot."
He accepted the nightmare difficulty task.
"Are you sure you want to accept the nightmare difficulty task? Acceptance may trigger unknown consequences."
"Confirm."
The screen flashed, and the real task details appeared.
"To see another world, you need extraordinary courage, luck, and a bit of help. The game is called 'Reflection: At 2:04 AM, enter the bathroom alone, lock the door, turn off the lights, and face the mirror. Light a candle between you and the mirror. Close your eyes and slowly whisper your name."
"In the darkness, anything can happen—an unfamiliar face might appear in the mirror, a pair of red eyes might be watching from the corners, or blood might seep from the walls and cracks in the door. Your task is to remain unmoved and quiet in front of the mirror."
"After thirty minutes, the task will be complete, provided you do not open your eyes during this period."
Chris's nerves frayed as he read the task description. "Could there really be a world only visible to others?"
With time to spare before 2:04 AM, Chris searched online for information about the game. He found disturbing accounts of misfortune, disfigurement, and even disappearances attributed to the game.
"These accounts are vivid and detailed, almost like ghost stories," he thought. As someone who operated a haunted house, Chris was no stranger to fear and thrills. The more he read, the more he felt a new door opening before him.
"Playing a horror game alone in a haunted house at midnight sounds thrilling," he decided.
He checked his phone's battery, realizing the historical nature of this moment. "I should record the entire experience," he said. "If it's as terrifying as reported, maybe my haunted house could benefit from a new attraction."
Chris gathered candles and matches, preparing to undertake the task at exactly 2:00 AM. He headed to the bathroom on the first floor of the haunted house.
Choosing the first-floor bathroom was a calculated decision; if anything went wrong, he could escape through the window.
The haunted house was eerily silent as Chris locked himself in the small, dimly lit bathroom.
"Confined spaces and darkness amplify fear, and the bathroom is the most foreboding place in the house," he mused. "The mirror, the door, the sink—these everyday objects can evoke powerful psychological responses. The game's designer clearly understands how to exploit deep-seated fears."
Chris set up his phone to record, positioned to capture both himself and the mirror.
"At 2:01 AM, with three minutes remaining," he said to the camera. "Waiting for death is more terrifying than death itself. The stillness in the bathroom magnifies every sound. As the minutes tick by, my heartbeat quickens."
He watched the time tick away on his phone. At 2:04 AM, he extinguished the flashlight, lit the candle, and placed it between himself and the mirror.
The flickering flame was the only light, casting eerie shadows in the darkness.
Chris glanced at his reflection, feeling an unsettling oddness. "Is the game beginning?" he wondered.
Slowly, he closed his eyes and began whispering his name.
"Chris, Chris, Chris…"
Repetition of his name created a strange sense of detachment, akin to endlessly writing a character until it became unrecognizable.
To avoid becoming disoriented, Chris counted silently for three seconds after each utterance of his name. This also helped him keep track of time.
The task required him to remain with his eyes closed for thirty minutes, regardless of what occurred.
"At this hour, alone in a haunted house, performing this game with a candle… If I weren't experiencing this myself, I'd doubt anyone would actually do it," Chris thought, fighting to keep his mind clear.
"This game is all about psychological suggestion. The greatest challenge is not the imagined ghosts but controlling oneself. As long as I keep my eyes closed, I should be safe."
As the first ten minutes passed, an unexpected occurrence began.