Horror Game? Looks Cute

I had a perception disorder that messed with how I saw and felt stuff.

So when I got dropped into a horror game, everyone else freaked out trying to survive—

Me? I thought I was in a dating sim.

I raised a young fae like she was my kid, fell for the vampire count, and treated the undead like my in-laws.

The first time I saw the vampire—face torn up, soaked in blood—I straight-up blushed.

"You're really handsome."

He froze. Then, low and uncertain: "Am I... really handsome?"

I was poisoned with wolfsbane by my destined mate's side chick. Woke up in a whole new world.

Before I could figure out what was going on, a creepy voice dropped into my head:

[Welcome to the Dark Citadel.]

[Survive seven days in the castle to clear the game.]

[Initial players: 30. Current players: 30.]

[Have a great game.]

The voice vanished. We were all just standing there, thirty strangers in some dramatic-looking grand hall.

Then came the crying.

"Waaah... this place is so scary. I wanna go home."

Scary?

Could've fooled me.

Thanks to my perception disorder, my brain airbrushes reality. The grosser something is, the prettier it looks.

So to me? This place felt like a cozy Airbnb.

Meanwhile, some cranky knight-looking dude threw punches at the shadows. "Quit hiding and fight me, coward!"

While most people were busy freaking out, two stepped forward—chill and confident.

They said they were mages. Seasoned pro in the game.

They gave us the rundown:

We were stuck in a horror game. Everyone here? Already dead IRL.

The castle had thirty floors. Each floor had its own monster—or monsters. The higher you climbed, the scarier they got.

Clear all thirty floors, hit the legendary 9,999 points, and you get a second shot at life.

Bonus? A cash prize so massive, you'd never have to work again.

That definitely got my attention. "So how do we earn points?"

One of the mages said, "Depends on your fear rating. Each stage has its own challenge. Clear it with a 99? You get one point. Hit 100? Game over."

Fear rating meant how scared you were.

Experienced players could breeze through with low fear ratings.

Newbies? Took forever to toughen up.

I thought for a sec. "This doesn't seem that hard. If I keep my fear at zero, that's 100 points a floor. I'll hit 9,999 easy."

The moment I said it, the whole room turned.

Every face screamed the same thing: 'Are you serious right now?'

What I didn't see? The Chat Feed was already roasting me:

[There's always that one clueless noob talking big. They're the first to scream.]

[Dark Citadel's an S-rank. Even top witches and hexcasters can't clear it.]

[Big words from the wolf. Let's see if she delivers—don't disappoint me.]

That night, we had to pick rooms.

The mages explained, "Each floor's got one bedroom. At night, a monster shows up looking like someone close to you—and lives with you. Eats with you. Sleeps with you."

Living with monsters? What part of that isn't nightmare fuel?

They didn't even wait. Claimed the first and second floors.

Everyone else scrambled for the lowest levels.

I got shoved all the way to the top.

"Didn't you say your fear rating would always be zero? Since you're so tough, enjoy the 30th floor. Let's see if you're just talk."

They walked off, smug as hell.

Fine. 30th floor it is.

Couldn't see them, but the Chat Feed was going off again:

[She's toast. The monster on the 30th floor? That's the final boss. She's not making it till morning.]

I looked around. Compared to the first floor, this place felt... different. Warm tones, soft lighting. Like a magazine spread.

Honestly, it looked like something out of my dreams.

In the real world, I'd had nothing. Slept under bridges. On sidewalks. Winter nights were the worst.

So yeah—having a room of my own? Felt unreal.

I walked up to the bedroom door, didn't hesitate at all, knocked hard, and shouted, "Hey! I haven't eaten in forever! Feed me or I'm gonna pass out!"

The Chat Feed lost it.

[Is she trying to die? Who knocks like that in a horror game? Something's gonna jump out and eat her.]

[No way she's that calm. She's faking it.]

[I bet her fear rating hits 100 in three seconds. Let's watch her die.]