The Blood Lute and the Scissorhands' Mask

Holmes returned to Room 404 swiftly.

Emily and Kevin hadn't come back yet. He marched straight into the room of the Nightmare Feaster.

"Damned brat, you haven't set out yet?"

The Nightmare Feaster's face contorted into a sinister glare the moment he saw Holmes, instinctively assuming the youth hadn't left. According to his private deal with the Charm Phantom in Room 101, if Holmes had gone there, he couldn't have returned alive. The only thing that should have come back was the Blood Lute delivered by Mike on the Charm Phantom's orders.

"Father, I've obtained the medicine."

Holmes unstrapped the Blood Lute from his waist and placed it on the table.

"What did you say?" The Nightmare Feaster froze, staring at the bottle of dark, scarlet liquid. One glance was enough to confirm it was indeed the Charm Phantom's Blood Lute. He looked at Holmes' unscathed body in disbelief, countless conjectures swirling in his mind.

How the hell did this kid survive?

"How did you get this?"

"The elder sister was very kind. I told her my father's legs were rotting terribly, keeping him awake at night, and she was so moved she gave it to me."

Listening to Holmes' unflinching lie, the Nightmare Feaster's face darkened instantly.

He'd never believe such bullshit! But the sight of the Blood Lute had consumed his mind, overriding any thought of how this disposable player had survived. He twisted off the cork and greedily gulped the liquid…

Soon, Holmes smelled an unbearably foul odor—sharply metallic, like wine yet not. How could such a stench hold such allure for the Nightmare Feaster?

"Get out! Don't block my view!"

The Nightmare Feaster's eyes glazed over in ecstasy, waving Holmes away impatiently. Even with Holmes bringing a full bottle of Blood Lute, he showed no favor. In his eyes, these players existed to serve him—more like slaves than children. He'd kill them and replace them whenever he pleased.

Holmes said nothing and turned to leave. As he closed the door, he heard the Nightmare Feaster mutter with a mix of lust and hatred:

"How the fuck does that bitch brew this with her menstrual blood? I've never tasted anything so goddamn divine!"

Holmes gagged, struck by a wave of revulsion.

Fuck! So the raw material is period blood? Everything in this damned world is more messed up than the last.

The moment he stepped out, a game notification rang in his mind:

"Ding! Congratulations, Player, for obtaining the Blood Lute and completing the C-rank mission."

"Mission Reward: [Scissorhands' Mask]."

"Rarity: Rare."

"Description: Once, a man named Edward wore this mask to avenge his beloved girl. With each kill, he cut off the murderer's face and stitched it to the mask. What a till-death-do-us-part love, isn't it?"

"Ability: Using haunted items enhances perception by 5%."

"Ding! Talent triggered, obtaining hidden information about the haunted item."

"Hidden Function: Let the mask suck the user's blood to activate a hidden effect—Players can transform into the identity of the Haunted Scissorhands Killer."

"Mission Summary: Player has not gained Father's favorability. Please continue to strive!"

"Hidden info triggered again." Holmes' eyes lit up. This talent was a godsend—it was like giving a gun to someone who could only use it as a club, while he could fire all the bullets and turn it into a killing machine, maximizing its value. Did this mean even low-level haunted items could be upgraded through his talent?

As for the favorability rating, Holmes couldn't care less. The Nightmare Feaster was a cold-blooded snake—even if you pleased him ten thousand times, he'd take it for granted. Holmes had no intention of currying favor.

He took out the reward from his inventory: a clown mask, horrifyingly stitched with bloodstained human faces, giving the impression of staring into the eyes of the dead.

"How do I make the mask absorb my blood?" Holmes hesitated, then poked his finger into the mask's mouth. The next instant, a sharp pain shot through his finger. When he withdrew it, blood welled from the tip.

The mask seemed to come alive: the human skins writhed, like horrific ghost faces howling in pain, and white bone spurs sprouted from its edges. The entire mask pulsed with a dreadful, eerie life.

"Is this activation?" Holmes wasn't sure. As he tried to put it on, a mocking voice sounded behind him:

"Did you not leave, or did you run back again?"

Holmes turned to see Kevin wearing a sneer. Before Kevin could mock him further, he saw the human-skin mask in Holmes' hand and froze. Holmes wordlessly stowed the item and headed for the living room, ignoring Kevin.

Kevin's frown deepened at being snubbed. In the living room, Emily had returned. "Why are you back?" she asked, assuming Holmes had failed the mission.

"I completed the task. Why wouldn't I come back?" Holmes sat down and took out the coarse grains from the Charm Phantom. At the sight of the food, Emily and Kevin believed him, but Room 101 was known as a death trap. How had he finished the mission in just three hours?

Tearing open the compressed biscuit, Holmes said casually: "Got lucky. The phantom thought I was cute and gave me half a bottle of Blood Lute."

They exchanged a glance, unsure whether to believe him. But Holmes was alive and eating, so he must have succeeded. At "got lucky," Kevin's face twisted as if he'd eaten a fly.

"Fuck! Why can't I have that luck?" His task was to get false teeth for the Grandma Phantom. Following the mission guide to the 6th floor, he not only failed to find them but almost got captured by a resident to be made into a human specimen. After failing, the Grandma Phantom had torn out one of Kevin's eyes as punishment—Holmes hadn't noticed yet, but Kevin was now a cyclops, looking absurd.

Holmes had no liking for him and ignored his complaints, focusing on his food. Emily had also earned her daily rations by completing her task, but they were meager compared to Holmes'. Kevin was the worst off—no food and a worsened relationship with the Grandma Phantom. His survival in Room 404 had relied on the favor he'd gained from the Grandma, which had kept the Nightmare Feaster at bay. Though the Nightmare Feaster's missions had the highest mortality rate, he was the weakest of the three phantoms in the room, kept in check by the Mama and Grandma Phantoms. But now, with one eye gone, Kevin felt a strong sense of crisis.

Forced to eat yesterday's leftovers, which were now covered in black mold due to the haunted environment, Kevin vomited after two bites. His eyes fixed on Holmes' biscuits, his stomach growling. Clearing his throat, he was about to speak when Holmes cut him off: "Don't stare. A veteran like you wouldn't care about my coarse food, right?" Holmes mimicked the condescending look Kevin had given him that morning.

Kevin's face darkened, while Emily barely held back a laugh.

"Give me a biscuit, and I'll tell you secrets about Mama and Grandma Phantoms. One compressed biscuit for a life-saving clue— that's a good deal, isn't it? You'd better decide quickly, or I might change my mind." Kevin pressed on, desperate to eat not just for hunger but to maintain his stats. In this game-like world, players needed nutritious food daily, or their physical attributes would plummet. With one eye already gone, he couldn't afford further decline.

"Then change your mind. I'm not stopping you." Holmes popped the last bite of biscuit into his mouth.

Kevin sneered: "Figures you're a newbie. On your first day, you don't understand the value of information. You got lucky today, but luck doesn't last."

Holmes took a sip of water and shrugged: "Tomorrow is tomorrow's problem. Should I kill myself today because I might die tomorrow?"

"Fine, be a hero. Don't come begging me tomorrow. No one knows those three phantoms better than me in this room." Glancing at Emily, Kevin added, "It's getting dark, Beauty Liu. Go back to your room before this bad luck rubs off on you!" He turned and stormed into his room.

Emily frowned but said nothing, clearly disliking Kevin's attitude. Holmes found it amusing. With his [All-Knowing Comprehension] talent, he lacked for no information about the phantoms—Kevin might end up begging him instead.

Unscrewing his water bottle, Holmes turned to Emily: "First time I've seen someone begging for food while threatening the other person to beg them instead. Is he always this unreasonable?"

Emily sighed: "He's been like that since he arrived two days earlier. He tries to dominate everyone in Room 404. You'd better not offend him—you're new, after all, and he has more gear and experience."

Holmes didn't respond. He disliked trouble, but he wouldn't back down if provoked.

" The apartment turns off the lights at 9 PM. After that, no matter what you're doing, don't leave your room. You must be in bed by midnight." Noticing the thickening fog outside, Emily explained the night rules.

Holmes raised an eyebrow: "What's the danger at night?"

"At night, the apartment spawns terrifying unknown NPCs that can enter rooms. If a player encounters one, they'll be forced into a hell-difficulty mission. Some out-of-control NPCs can even attack players directly. There was a player who woke up in the middle of the night, opened the door to use the bathroom, and the next day, we found the toilet clogged with his skin fragments…"

"Some say midnight NPCs drop [Treasure]-rank gear, but who'd risk their life for that?"

Holmes nodded. He had no interest in night-time dangers—daytime missions were already more than enough. As Emily headed to her room, Holmes handed her a piece of bread.

She looked puzzled.

"Thanks," he said simply. Emily had shared so much mission info; this was a small gesture. He disliked owing people. A piece of bread might not be much, but it could be a lifesaver.

Emily smiled, unable to resist a dig at Kevin: "See? It's better to help someone than offend them. No downside."