Chapter 93: Twisted House (ii)
The suffocating silence shattered.
Lucian’s lips parted as realization dawned on her face.
"If every memory we’ve witnessed belongs to little Yun Han..." she whispered, "then I think the true objective of this dungeon is—"
Her voice stopped.
Not because she hesitated.
But because something had stolen it.
"..."
Her mouth remained open, frozen mid-sentence.
Fear flooded her eyes.
Her pupils trembled violently before the warmth inside them slowly disappeared.
Shen Yu’s expression changed.
"Luxian?"
She didn’t respond.
Instead, her beautiful golden hair slowly lost its color.
Strand after strand darkened into lifeless black.
It continued growing at an unnatural speed, cascading over her shoulders, down her waist, until it completely concealed her face like the disheveled hair of a madwoman.
Luxian’s terrified eyes trembled violently before the fear inside them slowly faded into endless despair.
Her youthful face began aging before everyone’s eyes.
Then her back bent.
Her once graceful figure hunched over.
Wrinkles spread across her skin.
Her youthful face withered into that of a sickly old woman.
Long white hair mixed with the black strands as tears of blood rolled endlessly from two hollow eyes hidden beneath the tangled curtain.
Shen Yu’s pupils contracted.
Wrinkles spread across her skin.
The vibrant life in her eyes disappeared, replaced by two hollow sockets that continuously wept tears of blood.
"...Xiao Han..."
"...Xiao Han..."
The hoarse voice that emerged no longer belonged to Luxian.
It belonged to Yun Han’s mother.
Shen Yu had seen her before.
Inside the Favorability CG.
Luxian...
Had been possessed.
"...Have you seen my Xiao Han?"
The old woman’s trembling voice echoed through the room.
"Have you seen her?"
"Have you seen my daughter?"
Her voice cracked with unbearable grief.
The endless black hair suddenly surged across the floor like countless living snakes.
Whoosh!
It wrapped tightly around Shen Yu’s legs.
His body jerked violently.
Crack!
Crack!
Crack!
The bones throughout his body groaned under the terrifying force.
Before he could react, thick missing-person posters began growing directly from his skin.
One...
Ten...
Dozens...
The papers plastered themselves across his chest, shoulders, and arms like a deadly disease.
In only seconds, they had begun creeping toward his face.
Shen Yu gritted his teeth.
"No..."
He slammed his left hand against the rattle drum in his right.
"Stop!"
"As long as the rattle stops..."
"We can leave this place!"
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
But his right arm no longer obeyed him.
As though possessed by an invisible force, it continued shaking the rattle mechanically.
No matter how hard Shen Yu grabbed his own wrist...
No matter how much strength he used...
He couldn’t stop it.
"Damn it!"
His forehead bulged with veins.
"Emohan!"
"Taishan!"
"If you don’t want to die, help me hold this hand down!"
"Hurry!"
He desperately turned toward the others.
Then his expression froze.
Emohan wasn’t moving.
Because Taishan had lifted him completely off the ground by the neck.
Like a chicken.
"Taishan!"
"What the hell are you doing?!"
Emohan kicked wildly, clawing at the enormous hand around his throat.
"You crazy bastard!"
Only then did everyone notice something horrifying.
Taishan’s body had changed.
The mountain-like giant who looked capable of crushing boulders had become frighteningly thin.
His muscles had withered away.
His cheeks had sunk inward.
His skin clung tightly to his bones until he resembled a walking skeleton.
Blood continuously flowed from the corners of his mouth.
His crimson eyes stared blankly ahead.
"Cough..."
"Cough..."
Fresh blood splattered onto the floor.
Then he spoke.
Not in his own voice.
"Han Han..."
"It’s Dad..."
"Dad failed you..."
"It’s all Dad’s fault..."
His entire body trembled violently.
Those blood-red eyes suddenly locked onto Emohan.
"HUMAN TRAFFICKERS..."
"You all deserve to die."
"You all deserve to die!"
"Where..."
"Where did you take my Han Han?!"
His grip tightened.
Crack!
Emohan’s face instantly turned purple.
"Damn..."
"How would I know?!"
"You..."
"You should search Han Village!"
"Go there!"
"I’m not your enemy!"
Blood sprayed from Emohan’s nose as he struggled desperately.
But Taishan no longer heard him.
He had completely become Yun Han’s grieving father.
Madness had consumed him.
Watching everything unfold, Shen Yu instantly pieced it together.
After Yun Han disappeared...
Her parents had sold everything they owned searching for her.
Their house.
Their savings.
Their future.
When they still couldn’t find their daughter...
They lost their sanity.
The room itself had become the embodiment of their despair.
The walls shrinking.
The endless missing-person posters.
The overwhelming grief.
This wasn’t merely a memory.
It was an obsession.
A nightmare that refused to end.
Shen Yu’s breathing became increasingly difficult.
The missing-person notices continued spreading.
One covered his shoulder.
Another climbed onto his neck.
Another reached his jaw.
It wouldn’t be long before they sealed his entire face.
"...Is this..."
"...the end?"
Shen Yu murmured.
The missing-person posters had already climbed to his neck.
His breathing became difficult.
The old woman’s hair tightened around his legs.
The relentless drumbeat echoed through the room.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
Death was only seconds away.
Then—
A familiar voice struggled through choking breaths.
"Future..."
"Cough..."
"Future..."
"Future... won’t lie to me..."
It was Emohan.
Despite being strangled half to death, he was still shouting.
"Shen Yu!"
"You survived in the future!"
"You won’t die here!"
"Think!"
"There has to be a way!"
Shen Yu’s eyes widened.
He never expected the person encouraging him at the brink of death...
Would be Emohan.
Emohan’s eyes were rolling back as he cursed through clenched teeth.
"Damn you..."
"Didn’t my future self say you’d survive?"
"You..."
"Aren’t you always full of tricks?"
"You were reciting poetry earlier!"
"So think!"
"Think of something!"
His desperate complaint struck Shen Yu like lightning.
Poetry...
Poetry?
His tightly shut eyes suddenly snapped open.
Yun Han loved poetry.
Her room had been filled with poetry books.
The walls displayed awards from poetry associations.
That love...
Didn’t appear out of nowhere.
It came from someone.
Her parents.
Especially...
Her mother.
Shen Yu took a deep breath.
Then—
A familiar verse surfaced.
A poem every little child knew.
A mother’s endless longing for her wandering child.
Without another moment of hesitation, Shen Yu recited aloud.
"The thread from a loving mother’s hand,
Makes the clothes upon her wandering child.
Before he leaves, each stitch is sewn with care,
Fearing only his return may long be delayed."
The instant the first lines echoed through the room—
Bang...
Bang...
Bang...
The frantic shaking of the rattle drum slowed.
Just a little.
But for the first time...
It listened.