Chapter 3 - Chapter 3: The Terrifying Interview

In Mandarin, Cantonese, Korean, and Japanese, the pronunciation of the number 4 is similar to the word for "death," which is why it's often considered an unlucky number. For example, some buildings lack a 4th or 14th floor, there are no ferries numbered 4 in Hong Kong's New Ferry Company, and in Taiwan, car license plates avoid the digit 4. Even when selecting phone numbers, people tend to avoid those ending in 4.I used to dismiss these superstitions, but that night, as I stared at the number above the door, I found myself deep in thought."Room 444."The address on the flyer was accurate, and I couldn't believe it — Jiangcheng actually had a place like this."Should I go in?"It felt like I was at the final stage of a game, and my emotions were a mix of hesitation and tension.The pitch-black hallway seemed endless. Occasionally, my feet landed on dry, cracked wood or the remains of insects. What troubled me more was that this was the fourth basement level. My phone had inexplicably gone black, and my only weapon, a German-imported 8,000-volt anti-wolf device, had stopped working. I was left with nothing but my bare hands to face whatever was about to happen.The eerie, terrifying environment, combined with the acrostic poem from the old lady, had my nerves on edge, the fear building with every passing moment."If this is all just a prank or some alternative variety show, then the scale of the setup is far too grand. I've been on the lookout and haven't spotted any cameras or obvious signs of setup. This doesn't seem like a joke."My hand gripped the door handle as I imagined opening it to find dozens of cameras trained on me, a well-dressed host offering me a warm hug, and a microphone in hand, shouting, "Congratulations, Mr. Gao! You've passed the test! Here's your one-million-dollar prize..."The fantasy was pleasant, but reality often proved much more unsettling.Creek. The door opened with a horrible sound, dust swirling in the air as I stepped inside."Is anyone here?"Dim light flickered above, the carpet smelled musty, and rotting furniture was stacked in the center of the room. On the far wall, in crooked writing, were four large characters — Hell Show.There were no flashing lights, no cameras, and no vengeful spirits with blood-soaked faces and dangling heads.The best-case scenario hadn't materialized, and neither had the worst. Behind the door was just an abandoned warehouse."Don't let my guard down. Since the address Xia Qingzhi provided was real, this might be where her brother was killed. That means I'm now in a room where a murder occurred."I gently closed the door behind me, the light overhead flickering, but offering a faint sense of security."Is anyone here?" The light was on, yet the room felt as though it had been abandoned for years.Stepping onto the damp, decaying carpet, I felt a strange sensation, as if I were walking on hair hardened by dried blood.The floor creaked with each step, and in the occasional hole, I saw the bodies of unidentified insects.On the table and chairs in the center of the room were unsettling words, some scratched into the wood with nails, as if those who had sat there once had endured extreme pain and torment.At the farthest corner, the two characters Hell Show were painted in blood-red on the wall. At first, it seemed nothing special, but the longer I looked, the more it felt like there was something sinister and eerie in the words."Ordinary paint or oil will clump and fall off over time, and the color darkens, turning reddish-brown. This seems like a trait of blood..."There was a small door beside the inner wall. After finding nothing on the outside, I pushed it open out of curiosity."Hiss..." The temperature dropped instantly. I took a deep breath, my body freezing at the doorway.The room, not too large, contained a black ceremonial table nearly two meters long. On the other side, three people sat side by side.They wore formal attire, much like the radio hosts I'd imagined earlier. What made me uneasy, however, was that all three wore paper masks. At first glance, they seemed like lifeless paper dolls."Are you here for the interview?" The person in the middle raised their head in slow, mechanical movements, their voice hoarse and low, like opening a rusted can."Yes, I'm here for the interview," I replied calmly, even though the three in front of me were shrouded in mystery. They might be the ones responsible for the murder of Xia Qingzhi's brother. I needed to stay composed in front of these cold-blooded killers."I happened to see your company's advertisement and became very interested in your Hell Show Room. In this age of the internet, I firmly believe that innovation and difference are the keys to success, so I'd like to join you." I quickly adapted, playing along. To add weight to my words, I placed the crumpled business card on the black ceremonial table."Interested?" The three of them exchanged glances. Perhaps it was just my imagination, but their paper masks seemed to reveal a chilling smile."You've found this place by coincidence, but the hosts of Hell Show Room are not people who are alive," the man in the middle crossed his arms under his chin. "May I ask you a few questions?""Sure, go ahead." I maintained my composure. A few years ago, I had been expelled from the police academy. I had been running around the HR departments of major companies in Jiangcheng with a fake resume. I knew the drill. The questions interviewers often asked were easy to handle. I'd even researched the best responses online.With a mysterious confidence, I smiled and nodded. "Please, go ahead.""Name?""Gao Jian.""Do you have any relevant experience, such as live-streaming on other platforms?""Sorry, I don't have that kind of experience, but I'm highly adaptable and have great communication skills. I think my personality is a perfect fit for being a host." I stayed honest, admitting my weaknesses but highlighting my strengths, which is one of the key strategies in interviews."Nice answer. But the hosts of Hell Show are different from regular platform hosts. We need more than just communication skills. We need to protect ourselves... to survive.""Survive..." When the interviewer said that, I realized things were starting to spiral out of control."Exactly. It's simple. Just survive." The man in the middle touched his mask, and the paper-mâché face revealed an eerie grin. "In our city, there are countless legends— the thirteen steps in the abandoned village school, the last bus of the dead, the faces in the early-morning surveillance footage, the little girl in red standing at your door... There are so many stories. Do you really think they're all made up?""Probably..." If I had said this before coming here, I would have answered without hesitation: yes, they're all just stories."Wait, do you mean the hosts of Hell Show Room have to go to these places to look for ghosts and gather material?" I asked, growing more uneasy."Quick thinker. I like that." The man in the middle grinned, his laughter barely human, "We operate in the shadows of midnight, diving into the city's most terrifying horrors. Don't you find that exciting?""Ghost stories? No, no, it seems you still don't understand." The man under the mask spoke slowly, his voice sharp like a blade. "The truth is far scarier than any story. I guarantee you, the deepest despair you'll ever feel begins the moment you learn the truth.""What do you mean?""The answer is here, in this city. You'll become a witness to another world. You'll witness true horror." His tone was flat, devoid of humor, and his words weighed heavy in the air."It doesn't feel like a performance..." I now had almost no doubt that Hell Show Room was not a prank or a variety show. I had probably gotten myself into a very dangerous situation.I leaned back slightly, the instinct to retreat growing stronger.But the man in the middle seemed to have anticipated my thoughts. Without any visible movement from him, the door behind me creaked and slowly began to close on its own."Don't worry," the man said. "Your interview has only just begun."