Night fell swiftly, plunging Room 404 into ink-black darkness. As Emily had warned, Holmes was tucked into bed before midnight, too exhausted to stay awake. The moment his head hit the pillow, he fell into a deep sleep.
But in the dead of night, a faint knock roused him. Someone was knocking on his door.
"Holmes… Holmes, are you asleep?"
"If you can hear me, open the door! Get out of bed— the three phantoms are assigning tasks again! You must come out now; missing a task means big trouble!"
It was Emily's voice, urgent yet hushed, as if fearing something. Holmes rolled over and went back to sleep. He didn't know what lay outside, but it was clearly mimicking a player's voice. The lure was too clumsy. Even if it were really Emily, he wouldn't risk opening the door—after lights out, players who stayed in bed were safe from any horrors.
The "Emily" outside grew more frantic, her voice turning shrill and ugly when met with silence. Then came the spine-chilling scrape of nails on wood…
After an unknown time, Holmes heard a door open. The sound came from the adjacent room—Kevin's room. Why would he open the door? He should know the dangers of the midnight apartment…
Though puzzled, Holmes heard no further commotion and drifted back to sleep.
At 6 AM, the living room clock chimed. Holmes woke on time to find Emily and Kevin already waiting for the day's tasks in the game. Kevin looked haggard from hunger, with dark circles and greasy, tangled hair.
Holmes glanced at him, and Kevin snorted, "What? Is there writing on my face?"
Emily, more alert, asked Holmes, "How was your first night in the game? Nothing happened, right?"
"I heard you shouting at my door last night, like the room was on fire," Holmes said.
Emily's face paled. "That's the phantoms' trick—they'll make you hear any voice to get you to open up. One night, I thought I heard my dead sister begging for help. I was half-asleep and almost opened the door!" She added, "You weren't fooled, were you?"
Holmes shrugged. "I took it as a lullaby." He paused, eyeing Kevin. "I also heard a door open next door."
Kevin scowled. "Do I look like I have a death wish?"
Holmes didn't respond, but he caught a strange odor on Kevin—oddly familiar…
The clock chimed again, signaling the day's tasks. The three hurried to the corridor facing the three phantom rooms.
First, the Grandma Phantom called from her room: "Dear granddaughter, Grandma knitted you a sweater today. Come try it on for me!"
Emily, relieved to be summoned by Grandma—who favored her most—guessed the task would be easy, even rewarding.
Next, the Mama Phantom's voice rang out: "Kevin, Mama has a bad cough. Come see what's wrong." Kevin's expression lightened—Mama's tasks were the safest in the game.
As Emily and Kevin entered their respective rooms, Holmes, alone in the corridor, had a sinking feeling.
Sure enough, the Nightmare Feaster's mocking laugh rang out: "Dear son, come in! Papa is spoiling only you today!"
"…Fuck, again?" Holmes cursed. Weren't tasks supposed to be random? Was his luck this terrible?
He had no choice but to enter the filthy room again. The Nightmare Feaster, still enjoying yesterday's Blood Lute, gave the same task— but tossed him a glass bottle: "Use this. Fill it to the brim."
Holmes frowned at the bottle, larger than yesterday's. "This greedy bastard—next time he'll want a barrel."
Leaving the room, he noticed a playful glint in the Nightmare Feaster's eye, sparking unease. A task panel popped up:
"Ding! Daily task triggered: Obtain [Blood Lute] brewed by the Charm Phantom in Room 101 and fill the provided bottle. Mission Rank: C."
"Nothing wrong with the task," Holmes muttered, examining the bottle. It seemed ordinary.
Soon, Emily and Kevin emerged from the phantom rooms. Their tasks were D-rank: Kevin was to find cough medicine for Mama, while Emily—given a festive red sweater by Grandma, a [Common Haunted Item] that blocked 20 points of ghostly damage—only needed to have it tailored by a neighbor.
"This is a task or a welfare handout?" Kevin grumbled. High favorability meant easier tasks and gear—especially since Grandma doted on female players like the fair-skinned Emily.
Emily admired the sweater, then asked Holmes, "What's your task today?"
"Same as yesterday, but more volume." He held up the bottle.
" So you have to go to Room 101 again?" Emily said, surprised.
Kevin sneered as he passed, "Someone said luck repeats. Maybe you'll charm the Nightmare Feaster today?"
But as Kevin walked by, the odor on him grew stronger— it was the same stench from the Nightmare Feaster's room! Holmes frowned: Why would Kevin interact with the Nightmare Feaster? He recalled last night's door opening and the phantom's odd look…
"Ignore him," Emily said, misinterpreting Holmes' expression. "Good luck today—don't give up."
Alone, Holmes studied the bottle. His talent triggered a hidden info panel:
"Haunted Item: Artist's Wine Bottle.
Effect: Any liquid poured into it becomes a sedative with 90% anesthetic potency.
Rarity: Common.
Description: A fanatical artist of life used this bottle laced with anesthesia to drug prey, who then became 'artworks' under his blade. Isn't life wonderful?"
A haunted item! Why was Kevin's item with the Nightmare Feaster, now given to him? Holmes probed further, but the bottle revealed no more. His sixth sense screamed danger.
He tried Kevin's door, locked. Then he touched the Nightmare Feaster's doorknob. Another panel popped up:
"Last night, he opened the door and entered Father's room. A secret deal was struck between man and phantom.
Wonder why this haunted bottle is in your hands?
You've fallen into a dead end: complete the task or not, you die. How will you break the trap?"
So Kevin had set a trap—trading Holmes to the Nightmare Feaster for some gain. If Holmes filled the bottle with Blood Lute, its taste would change, failing the task. Using another bottle violated the rules. Either way, death.
But the hidden info hinted at a solution. Holmes thought of a risky, desperate plan—first, he needed to consult another resident.
Holmes grabbed the bottle and left Room 404…