A Survival Game Where You Have to Fall in Love with a Madman - Chapter 1

The alarm blared sharply at exactly six o’clock in the morning.

Reaching out from his single bed, You Yan precisely slapped the noisy electronic device into silence.

A sliver of bleak, gray dawn filtered through the gap in the rental apartment’s curtains. He stared blankly at the peeling paint on the ceiling for three seconds before sluggishly sitting up.

“Overtime on a Saturday…” He ran a hand through his slightly wavy, ink-black hair, his voice raspy with sleep. “Damn it.”

The digital clock on his bedside table displayed the date: September 16.

Stepping barefoot onto the ice-cold floor, You Yan pulled a black turtleneck sweater and a pair of jeans out of his wardrobe. As he dressed, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror his pale skin looked almost greenish in the dim light, faint shadows hung beneath his phoenix eyes, and the silver stud in his left ear gleamed faintly.

“I look just like a corpse,” he remarked to his reflection, his lips twisting into a humorless smile.

The kitchen tap hissed sharply as You Yan filled a cup with tap water to rinse his mouth. The rental room was so cramped he could barely turn around, but at least the rent was cheap.

When he opened a drawer to retrieve his medication, his gaze drifted over a small, locked box. Inside lay his mother’s final hospital bill the sheer number of zeros following the initial digit was enough to induce despair.

The toaster popped with a sharp ding, ejecting a pair of slightly charred bread slices. Without even looking, You Yan stuffed them into his mouth. He grabbed his employee ID badge and a silver lighter from the table; the lighter bore a small inscription that read “Nothing to lose.” It was an item a customer had left behind after a previous escape room event, and he had casually claimed it for himself.

First come, first served. Anyone who hustles understands.

The early autumn morning brought a damp, chilly fog. You Yan buried his chin deep into his turtleneck, buried his hands in his pockets, and walked toward the subway station. The streets were practically deserted, save for a few office workers out for an early morning jog, panting heavily as they passed him by.

“Living is exhausting enough as it is. Why go out of your way to look for more misery?” he grumbled internally as he swiped his card through the subway turnstile.

The carriage was completely empty. You Yan found a corner seat and pulled out his phone. The screen illuminated to reveal a message from his boss: “We have VIP clients booking out the entire Horror Hospital theme today. Arrive an hour early. There are new mechanical traps you need to familiarize yourself with.”

You Yan replied with a curt “Mm” and tapped open his banking app.

His active balance displayed: 8,342.56 RMB.

He silently calculated his expenses for the month rent, utilities, and that mountain of debt he could never seem to pay off. His fingers mindlessly traced the engraving on the lighter until the automated subway announcement broke his train of thought.

“Now arriving at Matsujiang Road Station.”

When he stepped out of the subway station, a light drizzle had begun to fall. You Yan hadn’t brought an umbrella, so he simply let the rain dampen his black hair. He turned down a narrow alleyway. At the far end, a hanging sign on a black iron gate read “Enigma Real-Scene Immersive Gaming Lounge,” looking exceptionally eerie through the rain.

The sensor at the staff entrance recognized his card with a clean beep.

Someone was already in the dressing room Xiao Lin, the makeup artist, was busy organizing her toolbox.

“Oh, You Yan, right on time today,” Xiao Lin looked up and smiled. “The boss said we need to make your makeup look significantly more realistic today.”

You Yan shed his damp coat and pulled his familiar white doctor’s coat from his locker. “How realistic are we talking?”

“Word is the new clients have some pretty extreme tastes,” Xiao Lin lowered her voice mysteriously. “The boss specifically bought fresh artificial plasma.”

Buttoning up his lab coat, You Yan said coldly, “I just hope they don’t turn out like that last group. Getting so scared they start assaulting the NPCs.”

Xiao Lin began applying the special effects makeup onto his face a deathly pale base, dark bruised sockets around his eyes, and a few disturbingly realistic lacerations. Once she finished, You Yan examined himself in the mirror. The reflection looked exactly like a fresh corpse that had just crawled its way out of a morgue.

“Perfect,” he evaluated, his tone entirely devoid of emotion.

On his way down to the “Horror Hospital” themed escape room, You Yan noticed several unfamiliar pieces of equipment installed along the corridor. When he pushed open the heavy door to the instance, a pungent, metallic stench of blood hit his nostrils, making him frown.

“New props?” he asked the boss, who was standing by the entrance calibrating the equipment.

The boss was a middle-aged man in his forties with massive bags weighing down his eyes. “A total system upgrade! I bought the operating table straight from a medical school it’s the real deal. Those organ models alone cost me thirty-eight thousand!”

You Yan walked up to the operating table, his fingers brushing over the “viscera.” The texture was alarmingly realistic; he could even feel the subtle, microscopic grain on the surface of the “liver.” A scalpel rested on the metal tray. He picked it up and balanced it in his hand the weight and tactile feedback didn’t feel like a prop at all.

“Is this sharpened?” You Yan arched an eyebrow.

“The clients demanded absolute authenticity,” the boss grinned, revealing teeth heavily stained from smoking. “Don’t worry, they signed a liability waiver.”

You Yan placed the scalpel back onto the tray and walked toward his designated starting coordinate a storage room packed with “medical apparatus.” According to the script, his role required him to materialize abruptly the moment the players discovered a key prop, chasing them into the adjoining chamber.

The boss’s voice crackled through his walkie-talkie: “You Yan, run a test on the newly installed hidden door.”

You Yan pressed a concealed button on the wall. A hidden panel slid open silently, revealing a pitch-black passage. This was a newly added escape route, designed for staff to guide players if they got stuck on a puzzle.

“Copy that,” he replied, casually picking up another scalpel from a nearby counter. This one was even sharper than the last; with a gentle swipe against his fingertip, a bead of blood instantly welled up.

“Tch.” You Yan sucked on his finger, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed his surroundings.

The escape room felt profoundly different today. The smell of blood was entirely too authentic, the lighting was dimmer than usual, and even the ambient temperature felt unnaturally frigid.

The walkie-talkie crackled again: “The players have entered the map. They will reach your coordinates in five minutes. Prepare to initiate active protocols.”

You Yan assumed his designated position, regulating his breathing to lock into character. From the distance, the sound of footsteps and low murmurs drifted over, sounding significantly more cautious than standard players.

“…Target confirmed in Sector B… Maintain high vigilance… This is no ordinary game…” Fragments of their conversation floated into his ears.

You Yan narrowed his eyes.

Today’s ‘players’ are taking their roleplay this seriously?

He shook his head, focusing entirely on his cue to perform.

The footsteps drew closer and closer. The door to the storage room was slowly pushed open. A beam of flashlight swept across the room, locking dead center onto the surgical tray containing the key.

Now!

You Yan lunged violently out from the shadows, unleashing a practiced, unhinged laugh: “Who permitted you to touch my surgical instruments?!”

He brandished the scalpel, his face contorting into a menacing grimace he had practiced countless times.

To his utter surprise, one of the “players” reacted with lightning speed. With a swift twist of his torso, the man shoved his companion aside while simultaneously drawing something from his waist was that a real gun?

You Yan’s performance ground to an abrupt halt. He stared wide-eyed at the dark, hollow void of the gun barrel.

“Wait, this is just a ga—”

BANG!

The gunshot erupted.

The bullet grazed past his ear, slamming violently into the wall behind him.

You Yan staggered backward, his scalpel hitting the ground with a sharp clatter. He stared in sheer terror at the man who had just fired. The killing intent radiating from the stranger’s face was completely genuine, absolutely not an act.

“Stop! This is just a game!” You Yan shouted.

“A game?” another woman sneered. On her wrist was a strange tattoo the number “7” enclosed within a circle. “An elite NPC like you is the absolute best at lying.”

You Yan’s mind raced at breakneck speed.

These people genuinely believe they are trapped in some kind of death game?

He immediately abandoned all theater, pointing directly at the operating table: “The key is in the tray! Take it and go, I won’t stop you!”

The gunman kept his eyes locked warily on You Yan, gesturing for his companion to retrieve the item. Once the woman secured the key, the trio swiftly backed out of the room. You Yan let out a massive breath, collapsing onto the floor.

He yanked out his walkie-talkie: “Boss, today’s players are dangerous. They brought a real firearm! I highly recommend terminating the ga—”

The device responded with nothing but static hiss.

“Boss? Xiao Lin? Is anyone there?”

Zero response.

You Yan stood up, deciding he needed to personally report the situation. He pushed open the storage room door, only to find the corridor significantly darker than usual. The walls were heavily marred with fresh, bloody stains and deep gouges he had never seen before.

“This set design is a bit too…” You Yan’s voice cut off instantly.

A silhouette lay sprawled across the floor at the far end of the hallway.

It was Xiao Lin. There was a real, gruesome, bloody crater torn directly into her chest. Her lifeless eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling.

You Yan’s stomach violently convulsed.

This wasn’t a prop. This wasn’t special effects makeup.

Xiao Lin was dead.