I Became a Receptionist in a Haunted Hotel

As I handed over the keycards, I added with an encouraging smile, “Good luck! You’ve got this! I believe in you!”

Some of the players, who were trembling moments ago, froze for a second at my words. Then, they glanced down at their keycards, straightened up, and marched inside with the determined look of someone heading to their doom.

Under my direction, the chaotic crowd at the hotel entrance quickly turned into an orderly line.

The boss seemed impressed. He came over and handed me a silver necklace with a delicate wing-shaped charm.

“When your shift is over, press the wing down. It’ll lock into place, and you can return to the real world. Lift the wing up, and you’ll be back on the job. It automatically tracks your hours, so no skipping shifts or you’ll be in trouble.”

I turned the necklace over in my hands. It was actually kind of cute.

Unable to resist, I asked, “Can I still stay in touch with the outside world while I’m working?”

After all, I didn’t know a single soul here. Without someone to chat with or a way to pass the time, it’d be unbearably boring.

He took my phone and fiddled with it, attaching some kind of blood-red lightning icon to the screen.

Suddenly, my previously disconnected phone lit up and it was connected to my home Wi-Fi.

“Players can’t usually contact the outside world, but you’re one of us now. So, you don’t have to risk your life to clear the game instance, and you’ve got some perks, like this little backdoor access.”

This job was amazing.

I was ready to stay in this role until I grew old and gray.

After the boss left, I settled into my usual routine of sneaking in some downtime.

The front desk job was usually pretty dull. After the morning rush, only a handful of people trickled in throughout the day.

The hotel had surveillance cameras in the hallways, but unfortunately, the boss-controlled rooms were off-limits to monitoring. I couldn’t see what was happening inside, but the occasional bloodcurdling screams from the back told me plenty.

Every now and then, a player would stumble out of a room, drenched in blood and visibly shaken. Just as they’d start to feel a shred of relief, crimson tentacles would shoot out from another room and drag them right back in.

While all this chaos unfolded, I got a message from my mom.

“Zoe, it’s been almost three months since you graduated. Have you found a job yet?”

I was in a great mood and ready to share the good news, but then her next message came, “If you don’t find work soon, you can go sleep on the streets. I’m done taking care of you!”

My excitement took a nosedive.

I replied, “Mom, I found a job. I’m working as a hotel receptionist.”

Her response came quickly: “Really? No way. You just happened to find a job the second I asked? Are you making this up? With your degree, what decent company would hire you? A receptionist? That sounds like a scam.”

Her words felt like a punch to the gut.

Feeling frustrated, I snapped back, “Believe it or not, someone did hire me. Even if you think your daughter’s nothing more than a bottom feeder, I’m a bottom feeder who knows how to make her own way!”

That last part must’ve hit a nerve because her next message came in hotter and angrier.

She sent me over a dozen one-minute voice messages back-to-back.

Not wanting to argue, I flipped my phone face down on the desk.

My mom had always been good to me, but she had this unshakable belief that I couldn’t do anything right. Every word felt like a jab as if I were still a helpless child who couldn’t survive without her.

I barely had time to stew in those feelings before the resonant toll of a bell snapped me out of it.

It was 5 p.m. The game instance had ended for the day.

Which meant it was time for room inspections.

By the time players staggered out of the hotel, very few were still in one piece. Blood and severed limbs littered the floor in their wake.

To my disbelief, someone even exclaimed, “I made it out alive! Oh my God, I’m so lucky!”

With my heart pounding, I carefully navigated around the carnage and made my way to the elevator, riding it up to the second floor.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Anyone there? Front desk here for room inspections,” I called out.

Silence.

Guessing that the game boss had already left the room, I used my keycard to unlock the door.

But the moment it swung open, a little girl’s body suddenly toppled toward me.

Her nose was crooked, her mouth twisted, her tongue hanging unnaturally long. Her face was smeared with blood.

I stood frozen.

After a long, awkward minute, she finally spoke.

“Am I not scary? Why didn’t you scream?”

I sighed, pulled out a pack of wet wipes, and gently cleaned her face. Her actual features gradually emerged, looking far less horrifying than before.