Click. Click.
The rhythmic sound of the keyboard echoed in the otherwise quiet office space.
It was dark, the flickering overhead lights casting weak shadows on the walls.
Takakakak—
The unmistakable sound of footsteps sliced through the silence—sharp, rapid, and disjointed!
They came from behind, quick and heavy, like someone sprinting just out of view. The steps skittered to the right, then to the left, frantically—as if whatever was making them was circling… hunting.
Then, just as abruptly as they began, they stopped.
Silence.
Suffocating.
[Would you like to quit the game?]
[▶ Yes] [▷ No]
I didn’t hesitate.
I pressed ‘Yes’ and closed the game.
“Ugh…”
I exhaled in relief as I slumped back into my chair, gripping my stomach.
That was close. I was quite used to feeling nauseous by now. It tended to happen whenever I played horror games.
I wasn’t good with horror, never had been. My tolerance for it was razor-thin, and once I hit that limit, it wasn’t just fear that came rushing in—it was the urge to vomit.
So, why was I playing this game in the first place?
It was simple: I had no choice. The gaming industry had become oversaturated. Too many people with too many skills, and nobody was hiring unless you were willing to specialize in something big. Like, say, horror games. And here I was, sitting in an office full of them.
I felt bitter. The irony was all too evident. The job I needed to keep was the one I hated.
I leaned forward and opened the drawer, pulling out the small bottle of pills.
: [Menxylanis]
It is advised to take two pills twice a day or as directed by your healthcare provider. The medication should be taken with water, preferably with meals, to minimize potential gastrointestinal discomfort. Do not crush or chew the pill, as it is designed for controlled release.
The instructions blurred as I read them.
With a sigh, I swallowed the pills dry, chasing them down with a gulp of water.
“H-ah…” I winced, my body shaking as I hurriedly reached out for my arm in an attempt to stop the trembling.
That small dose cost more than I made in a week. The pills had become a part of my routine, my lifeline for whatever this condition was. Even now, in spite of meeting several doctors, I had no idea as to what this strange disease was.
All I knew was that it was some sort of strange neurological disease that was slowly eating away at my brain.
I… had no choice but to rely on the pills to live.
I didn’t want to die, but I was merely delaying the inevitable. I didn’t have much time left.
I shook my head and glanced at my watch.
1:30 AM.
Everyone had left hours ago. I was the last one in the office, stuck sifting through the game’s logs and reviews after the release of Gentle Whispers.
But those reviews? They weren’t helping.
[Recent Reviews] (Mostly Negative) 27 reviews
This game sucks. I bought it hoping for something new, but it’s just full of cheap jump scares. Didn’t find this scary at all. I refunded it after an hour. Wasted time. It’s just tedious. Another failure from Nightmare Forge Studios. They’ve lost their touch.
I scrolled, the weight in my chest growing heavier with each new comment. The [Mostly Negative] tag was starting to feel like a death sentence. Sales had barely taken off, and the reviews weren’t helping. In fact, they were dragging the game down.
“This is bad…”
I leaned back in my chair, staring blankly at the ceiling.
If things kept going this way, the studio was heading straight for bankruptcy. And if it did? I’d be one of the first out the door. Nobody cared about programmers when the money ran dry. And finding a new job these days? That was a nightmare all on its own.
I swallowed, trying to push the rising panic down.
‘No. Don’t think like that.’
The game was new. Things could turn around. People will start writing positive reviews soon.
I convinced myself.
Then, I refreshed the page.
[Recent Reviews] (Negative) 41 reviews
“…Well, shit.”
The more I refreshed, the worse it got. The comments were relentless. The negative reviews were snowballing, gathering momentum as if the universe itself was conspiring against me.
I sat, staring at the screen, blankly.
By the time I managed to snap out of it, the number of negative reviews had reached a point where I couldn’t bear to scroll any longer. I closed the tab and leaned back in my chair, exhaling deeply.
“Flop. This game’s a flop.”
The words lingered in the air amidst my silence. I could already feel the resignation sinking in.
‘It looks like I’m going to lose my job.’
I didn’t even have to be responsible for the game’s storyline to know how this worked. We’d all be swept aside—developers, designers, the whole team. Hardly anyone was going to be spared from this disaster.
“I hope the severance is decent enough,” I muttered, rubbing my eyes.
I could already see it. The chaos that would unfold tomorrow.
From the Chief Director’s anger to the inevitable scolding, and finally, the dreaded “You’re fired” before I’d be forced to pack up and leave.
“…”
I slumped forward, hands covering my face. The bitterness curled inside me, stinging like a wound that wouldn’t heal.
Why was it always me? Why did I have to end up in a position where every damn choice felt wrong?
“I really—”
Ding—!
The sudden notification jolted me out of my thoughts. I froze, eyes widening at the screen.
[You’ve got mail.]
Mail?
“This isn’t even my personal computer….”
Was this some kind of virus? Another scam? I’d heard about these before.
Without thinking, I moved to dismiss the notification. But as my hand hovered over the mouse, the screen flashed.
Ding—!
[Horror Developer System]
Would you like to activate?
▶ [Yes]
▷ [No]
My brow furrowed. What was this? A joke?
I gritted my teeth. I was already pissed off from the reviews, and now this?
Before I could click, the screen flashed again, this time showing a new message.
[The trial period will now begin]
Click!
“Wait, what?”
When did I click yes? I glanced at the mouse, the click still lingering in my memory, but I had never touched it. How…?
The screen flashed again.
[We look forward to working with you, Developer Seth Thorne.]
I froze.
It knew my name?
My skin crawled. Something wasn’t right.
I instinctively reached for the mouse, but when my hand touched it, I pulled away sharply.
Cold…
The coldness hit like a shock to my system. It wasn’t the room—it was coming from the mouse itself. I stared at my hand, then at the screen. This… this wasn’t possible.
And then—
Ding—!
[Are you ready?]
A smiley face emoji popped up on the screen, its eyes wide, unblinking.
I blinked, and the emoji twitched.
The smile stretched unnaturally wide.
It didn’t stop.
Twitch.
The color bled from the emoji, turning red.
Twitch.
Its eyes were replaced with two crosses.
Twitch.
Suddenly, a wave of dizziness hit me. My vision blurred, and my body grew heavy.
A cold breath washed over my ear.
I froze, shivers running down my spine.
It was right next to me…
My skin tingled as a voice, far too close, whispered in my ear.
“Good luck~”
The world went dark.