Horror Game Designer

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation

“Good morning.”

Gao Ming’s actions were far from typical. Confronted with a scene of blood and injury, his response was unorthodox. Rather than fleeing in terror as most would, he blocked the only exit that defied common sense.

Wei Dayou, caught off guard by Gao Ming’s sudden verbal interruption, was so startled that his phone escaped his grasp, clattering to the floor.

Recognizing the figure before him, Wei Dayou instinctively retreated until his back hit the wall, unable to go any further. “Gao Ming?” he uttered in disbelief.

Gao Ming, twirling his own phone in his hand, addressed Wei Dayou with a smile that, under normal circumstances, would suggest a joyful reunion of old friends. However, in this context, it only served to send a shiver of fear down Wei Dayou’s spine.

Accusations tumbled out of Wei Dayou’s mouth as he scrambled to retrieve his phone, keeping a wary distance from Gao Ming. “Did you have anything to do with those murders? I saw everything!”

Gao Ming halted, a look of disbelief crossing his face as he touched it as though to reassure himself. He appeared entirely normal, save for his inexplicably early presence in the studio. “How could you think I’d do such a thing?” he questioned.

Wei Dayou was visibly shaken as he recounted a horrifying incident. “Right after midnight on the Ghost Festival, a masked butcher stormed into my apartment. He forced everyone to answer ten ‘death questions,’ and those who failed met a grisly end!”

Wei Dayou’s voice cracked with emotion, his face flushed with anger and fear, veins bulging in his neck. “I was the only one to survive because I knew the answers. And eerily, the questions were identical to those in the death quizzes from your game!”

Gao Ming approached Wei Dayou, his voice soft and earnest. “We’ve been close for years, discussing games late into the night, sharing ideas. I’ve always seen you as my closest friend, the one who truly gets me. If I tell you I’m innocent, would you believe me?”

Wei Dayou, after a moment of intense scrutiny, seemed to deflate, his clenched fists uncurling as he nodded in affirmation.

Relieved, Gao Ming showed Wei Dayou a video on his phone depicting a family scene where he was enjoying cake with his parents at the time of the murders.

With the tension dissipating, Wei Dayou slumped into a chair, his mind racing. “But how did our game turn into reality? We were the only ones privy to its contents.”

Gao Ming, seated across from him, his expression grave, began to unravel a complex story. “I need to share something with you, but you must promise to keep it a secret.” Over the next half hour, Gao Ming laid bare the intricate web of ideas and truths behind their game.

“There’s a strange phenomenon about to engulf our city, and I need your assistance,” Gao Ming declared, pulling out a map of Hanhai and pointing to the Eastern District. “In two days, you’ll be replaced as the game planner. I need you to join the Eastern District Investigation Bureau and infiltrate the Queen’s Bureau Branch.”

“Absolutely, what’s the point in going to the office if the world’s about to end? Our boss, Old Baldy, even wants us to pivot to making romance games of all things. If someone’s into that, they can go ahead, but it’s not for me.” Wei Dayou expressed his clear dissatisfaction with the direction his company was taking. He then voiced a concern: “But, honestly, do you think I have what it takes to get into the Investigation Bureau?”

Gao Ming responded with a strategic suggestion. “Just mention that you’re a survivor of a strange event. Talk about how the deaths of your neighbors deeply impacted you and ignited a burning desire to protect the city, even if it means risking your own life.” He gestured dismissively as if to suggest it was a simple matter. “Frame your story something like that.”

Wei Dayou, still processing the plan, asked, “And once I’m inside the bureau, what’s my next move?”

Gao Ming, his finger tracing paths on the map, shared his plan. “Keep an eye on Situ An. He’s due to assume office soon. I need you to monitor him closely and report his activities to me.” He then elaborated on Situ An’s dubious background: “There have been numerous problems with buildings donated and constructed by Situ An over the years, including a series of murders and terror incidents.”

Wei Dayou, sensing the gravity of the situation, remarked, “This Situ An sounds like a major figure.” He felt like he had heard the name before but couldn’t quite place it.

“Situ An is the incoming chief of the Hanhai Eastern District Investigation Bureau, the mastermind behind the massacre case, and, as it happens, a major client of mine.” Gao Ming’s finger paused on the Sishui Apartment on the map. “I have plans to design a ghost story game tailored for him, one that he’ll find irresistibly engrossing.”

Observing Gao Ming, Wei Dayou sensed a profound change in his friend. There was a new intensity in Gao Ming’s demeanor, a departure from the person he once knew.

“A truly compelling horror game,” Gao Ming explained, “should stimulate the player’s imagination, create a sense of darkness and oppression, limit their capabilities, and immerse them in constant anxiety and fear. It should offer a sliver of hope, yet be unpredictable, especially regarding the ghost element.”

Gao Ming, now possessing a level of cunning and influence that rivalled Situ An’s, was devising an intricate trap using asymmetric information.

“Dayou, I need you to stay here and erase all the game data. Leave no trace behind. Meanwhile, I’ll prepare a few surprises for our dear client.”

With the deletion of all Nightlight Studio’s games, Gao Ming severed his last ties to his past. He was now fully committed to navigating the perilous terrain of the city’s horror games, determined to settle old scores.

“The memories of my deaths haunt me constantly. Every recollection brings unbearable pain. The faces of those who betrayed me, who reveled in my downfall, they torment me like relentless nightmares. How can I escape these persistent shadows?”

As he picked up the cat, Richy, Gao Ming mused, “Why not embrace my destiny as a creator of true ghost story games? I can use the timeline and all the abnormal events to make them endure the agony I once suffered.”

Despite his heart being a mosaic of deathly experiences, Gao Ming harbored no intent to harm the innocent. His focus was solely on those who had directly or indirectly contributed to his demise.

He felt justified in his quest for vengeance, as his targets had once shown no hesitation in trying to end his life.

Richy, the cat, simply meowed in response, indifferent to Gao Ming’s plans. All it knew was that Gao Ming always brought treats during his visits, and this time was likely no different.

As Gao Ming set Richy down and made his way to leave, the cat quickly trailed after him, playfully biting at his trouser leg and waving its paws. It seemed as though Richy was trying to remind Gao Ming of something he might have overlooked.

“You followed me last time too,” Gao Ming said with a hint of helplessness, noticing Richy’s persistent clinginess. “Are you getting anxious even before Xuan Wen arrives?”

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation

Richy responded with a simple “Meow,” positioning itself in front of Gao Ming and rolling over to expose its belly in a gesture of trust and affection.

After realizing Richy’s reluctance to stay back at Nightlight Studio, Gao Ming searched the office for a cat carrier. After finding one, he gently placed Richy inside. “Looks like you’re joining me on this journey. From now on, you’re my right-hand cat,” he declared.

Now inside the carrier, Richy looked around with wide, curious eyes, not entirely grasping the sudden change. Meanwhile, Gao Ming draped his raincoat over the carrier for cover as Wei Dayou continued diligently deleting game data from their systems.

“Looks like you’re in for an adventure, Richy. You and I might be an odd pair, but that’s alright,” Gao Ming mused, a slight smile on his face.

Richy gave a soft, questioning “Meow?” as Gao Ming left the company, heading straight for the Eastern District.

Gao Ming’s journey had transformed him. Once a gentle soul, he now carried the weight of his experiences, navigating a path that was far from gentle.

He calculated his timing meticulously and arrived at St. Louis College before it opened, positioning himself at a nearby intersection.

“I came early, hoping to make things a little easier for Wan Qiu. Maybe this time, he’ll wake up to a world that’s not so harsh,” Gao Ming thought, reflecting on his intention to help reduce the boy’s suffering from bullying.

As students began to enter the school grounds, Gao Ming scanned the crowd but couldn’t spot Wan Qiu.

By nine o’clock, he hurried to Wan Qiu’s former classroom, posing as a concerned parent to inquire with the school staff. He learned that Wan Qiu had rejected assistance from the Hanhai Charity Association and had disappeared on his way to school.

This news left Gao Ming in disbelief. Wan Qiu, who was destined to become one of the most dangerous criminals in Hanhai’s future, seemed to have experienced a slight shift in his fate. It wasn’t Gao Ming’s intervention that altered Wan Qiu’s path; rather, the boy had taken steps to change his own destiny.

Gao Ming recalled the day at the Sishui Apartment, where Wan Qiu had made a surprising decision. Instead of leaving with Gao Ming, Wan Qiu chose to remain in the shadowy world to care for the two daughters of the ghost mother. His choices were always unpredictable.

Determined to find out where Wan Qiu had gone, Gao Ming accessed street surveillance footage and tracked the boy’s movements, which led him close to the Sishui Apartment.

“Could it be that Wan Qiu hasn’t forgotten what happened here?” he pondered.

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