Classmate Reunion in a Horror Game

After entering a horror game, I, Anastasia Moreau, begin dating the big boss.

At our first meeting, I wrap my arms around his sleek, serpentine body and squeeze him into a corner of the coffin.

"Move over, move over."

In the next instant, a strikingly handsome young man with white hair and golden eyes appears beneath me.

The tips of his ears flush red as he glares at me.

"You… You're lying on my hair!" he grits out.

"Welcome to the horror instance dungeon.

"Attention, players! The clearance condition is to survive for seven days. You are all the most honored guests of this village. Finally, we hope you have a pleasant day."

One second ago, I had just clicked on a link someone had posted in our class group chat. A second later, a cold mechanical voice rang out in my ear.

In a daze, I opened my eyes, only to find myself standing at the entrance of a village. Fog churned thickly in front of me, so dense that I could barely see anything. I could only hear a few panicked but familiar voices.

"What is this place? I don't want to be here. I want to go home. I want to go home!"

"I was just one minute away from clocking in. I've just lost this month's perfect attendance award!"

Then, an ice-cold voice cut through the crowd. "All of you, shut up."

At the same moment, the fog slowly dissipated, and the scene before us gradually came into focus.

Standing there was my university's graduating class—all 41 classmates in total.

Two years had passed since we graduated. No one could have imagined that our reunion would be under such circumstances.

Not far away stood 20 villagers. Their builds varied, but all of their faces were blurry, as though hidden behind a thin veil.

I noticed that the villager at the very end looked unnaturally stiff, like a mannequin.

The villager standing at the forefront had long black hair covering her eyes. Then, without warning, she suddenly spun her head 180 degrees to face us. It seemed as if she had forcibly twisted her head back into place.

"Hee hee hee. Hello."

As she spoke, she opened her gaping, bloody mouth. Shreds of flesh were faintly visible and stuck between her teeth.

"Hee hee hee. Pair up and choose a villager to be your host family." The same cold, hoarse voice echoed through the air once more.

The rest of us quickly realized something was wrong, and everyone's expressions turned grim.

Everyone could tell there was something deeply eerie about this village. And pairing up—with 41 people in the class—meant that one person would inevitably be left out. The consequences of being the odd person out were imaginable, and no one wanted to be caught in that position.

The guy standing in front stepped forward, shoving aside everyone in his way. "Move, move! I'm choosing first."

I recognized him immediately—Tony Larson. He was the most mischievous guy in our class back then. In two years, he'd grown considerably burlier and looked to be nearly six and a half feet tall.

He walked straight toward a young lady standing in the middle of the crowd of villagers. Her shoulder-length hair framed an innocent-looking face. He slung his arm around her shoulder with a sleazy look on his face.

The crowd sucked in a sharp breath.

In the next second, under everyone's horrified gazes, the woman with the long black hair stretched her impossibly long tongue out, coiled it around Tony, and dragged him straight into her mouth. Sticky, crimson blood dripped from her mouth, adding a touch of eerie allure to her already deathly pale face.

A sharp, piercing scream erupted from the crowd.

"Ahhhhh! She killed someone! Help!"

I stood there stunned. Only a pool of blood remained, where Tony had once stood.

Once the initial shock passed, I quickly realized that we now had an even number of people. The rest of my classmates hurriedly chose the villagers who looked relatively gentle, and no further accidents happened during the selection.

Before long, only a few villagers remained unchosen. I was still hesitating when suddenly, my small snake peeked out of my pocket. It motioned toward an elderly couple on the far edge. In front of them stood a young woman with pigtails.

I glanced at the remaining unchosen villagers. Some were monstrous, with distorted faces and horse-like bodies, while others were shrouded in black mist with horns sprouting from their heads. They seemed neither human nor ghost.