"Haha, one at a time, no need to get so worked up," Justin chuckled, raising his hands to calm them.
"This instance *is* a team-based one. It requires exactly five players. Mingyang Support Group has long known how to access it—you've seen it for yourselves, it's through this key. Over the years, we've refined our structure, keeping membership to five or multiples of five for easier team formation. These instances offer high rewards, but also come with great risk. As you can guess—"
He turned to Erik and Sarah. "Before you two joined, I was the only one left in Mingyang. My previous teammates… they all perished in immersive instances."
Wesley sobered at that. "It's *that* deadly?"
Justin sighed. "I won't hide anything. Take your time to consider whether or not you want to join. If you choose not to, just let me know soon—I'll start looking for others."
Kevin asked, "How is this type of instance different from the other supernatural ones?"
"Well… as the name suggests, once you enter, you become fully immersed. Players assume the roles of NPCs. The high mortality rate comes from the fact that players forget they are players—they lose all awareness of their true identity inside the instance."
Justin had finally revealed the instance's true difficulty.
Erik frowned slightly. "You forget you're a player, and live through the supernatural plot as if you're a real character?"
"Exactly. You'll only remember your NPC role. You won't be on guard during dangerous moments. Even when facing lethal threats, you may forget you have tools at your disposal… and die without ever knowing why. These instances demand unwavering vigilance and an instinct to question everything. That's why I chose *you*. You all have the qualities needed to survive."
Justin sounded sincere, but aside from Wesley, the others remained cautious.
Clearly, Justin was still withholding crucial information. But pressing him would only make him more guarded.
Erik nodded. "Justin, I trust you. Could you share the details of the immersive instance you've been through? Just so we have a reference."
Justin offered a wan smile. "I've only experienced one. I kept a record of it—here." He handed them a notebook, its first few pages marked with sparse handwriting.
"Ladies first," Wesley offered.
Sarah rolled her eyes. "Be my guest."
…
They took turns reading. Erik studied it intently, delving into a new and unfamiliar world of supernatural horror.
Justin's experience was titled **\[Immersive Supernatural Instance: Death on the Wedding Night]**. In it, his role was that of an ordinary villager. One day, the town was gripped by terror—grooms began dying mysteriously during wedding ceremonies. Panic spread like wildfire.
It was then that Justin's own wedding day arrived—an arranged marriage to a fiancée from another town, whom he had never met. After the ceremony, they were sent to the bridal chamber. He finally breathed a sigh of relief.
But then… his bride turned into a ghost and attacked him.
In the nick of time, he awakened and repelled her with a tool.
"In that instance, regardless of gender, every player was made to marry someone. Only those who survived their wedding night could pass. The other four from my team all died that night. When I regained my memories, I learned their true roles—one was my neighbor, one my classmate, one a relative, and one a stranger," Justin said quietly, his mood dimmed.
"These instances are extremely lethal. Please consider carefully. There's no rush. I respect all of you, and I don't want this to harm our relationship. That's why I'm being upfront. The five-person team is the core of Mingyang Support Group. If you decide not to join, I'll need to find replacements. And only core members are allowed to stay in this suite."
In other words, refusal meant eviction from the presidential suite.
Wesley genuinely believed he had time to think it over. Erik and Sarah exchanged glances, then looked at Kevin. The three of them shared a silent look.
Justin added one final request: "Please keep this information to yourselves. We can't risk unnecessary trouble for the group."
That line made Erik's brows twitch slightly. If the immersive instance was *truly* so perilous, how could Justin be sure everyone would agree to participate? Wouldn't it make more sense to openly recruit more backup players?
If he simply showcased the key, plenty of risk-takers would line up to join. Calling it "low-key" was generous—"secretive" might be more accurate. Justin's calm facade couldn't mask his urgency. That was what felt off to both her and Sarah.
There was something suspicious about this key.
After dinner, Erik returned to her room. Not long after, Sarah knocked, followed by Kevin. Erik opened the door twice and let them in.
The three of them sat in a circle on the floor.
"There's a lot left unsaid in that notebook," Kevin remarked, arms crossed, brows furrowed. "But maybe it's not on purpose. Everyone tells stories differently."
He placed the notebook between them. "Either way, I've decided—I'm going."
"What about you?" he asked.
"I'll go too. But not yet," Erik said. "There's no point interrogating him further—he won't tell us more. Better to let him reveal himself. If he's desperate, he'll start pushing harder, one way or another."
"Let's stall for two more days," Kevin nodded.
Sarah flipped through the notebook again before tossing it aside. She was clearly tempted by the reward—444 points was an enormous prize—but uneasy about what Justin might be hiding. What if they didn't even make it far enough to earn them?
After a brief discussion, Kevin and Sarah left Erik's room.
That night, Erik slept fitfully. In her dreams, she saw Natalie—blood streaming from every orifice, her expression numb, devoid of sorrow or joy, like someone who had reached the depths of despair.
"Natalie—" Erik reached for her, but Natalie retreated rapidly into the shadows, swallowed by darkness.
Erik woke in a cold sweat. She poured herself a glass of water and stood by the window. Only pitch-blackness greeted her.
She rubbed her eyes. The ghostly vision left by the last instance had completely faded. The imprint of the instance always vanished eventually—but would the things it took ever return?
She thought of Jax and the others. She wondered whether what they'd lost would ever be given back.
They were all players. Erik hoped, sincerely, that luck would favor them.
She finished her water and returned to bed, quickly drifting off again.
By morning, Justin was already gone. Erik made breakfast and ate with Sarah. As Kevin was cooking, Wesley emerged from his room.
He shared a room with Justin, so Kevin asked, "Justin left that early?"
"Yeah, I think just after sunrise. I was out cold—didn't notice much," Wesley replied, tapping at the tablet to order ingredients. "So… have you made your decisions yet?"
Dark circles loomed under his eyes, but his energy was manic. Kevin guessed he'd already made up his mind—and that his answer was exactly what Justin wanted to hear.
"I still have some concerns. Need to think more," Kevin replied evenly.
"What's to think about? It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!" Wesley burst out. Even when Kevin mentioned the risks, Wesley brushed them aside—he believed high risk came with high reward. And 444 points weren't easy to come by.
"Justin's reliable. I trust him. Ever since I joined Mingyang, I knew I'd stick with him."
Wesley had clearly become Justin's number one fan.
Erik smiled faintly and continued eating. She'd made ham and egg fried rice that morning. The best thing about joining Mingyang was the access to fresh, high-quality food.
Though she had an entire supermarket's worth of stock—warehouse full of rice, freezers packed with meat—she lacked the facilities to cook properly. Most of her meals were instant food and vacuum-sealed rations.
The suite provided enough ingredients for five people every meal. Erik often secretly increased her share and made larger, heartier, and more nourishing dishes.
If possible, she wanted to live here for as long as she could—at least until the lease on the presidential suite ran out.
After breakfast, Erik headed to the task hall for the day's new instance.
She stepped into the glowing circle and found herself in a large, dimly lit hall. Several players had arrived before her. She waited. Soon, six more entered.
Sixteen players in total—one of them a newcomer.
Once all were present, a system prompt echoed in Erik's mind:
**\[You and your friends are fans of supernatural games. Tonight, you've gathered to play a well-known game: The Four Corners Ritual. You've prepared thoroughly for this moment—now, enjoy the strange and thrilling night that awaits you!]**
"The Four Corners Ritual? I *hate* this one," a player grumbled.
Erik hated it too. Though she didn't know how it worked, she was certain it was another "tempt fate" game—like the spirit pen ritual.
From the corner of her eye, she spotted a previously empty table now bearing a sheet of paper. She walked over and picked it up. Scrawled in messy handwriting were the game's instructions.
The players gathered around. Giselle muttered, "Well, at least this instance gives us a guide. I've heard at least three different versions of how this game is played."
Erik quickly read through the rules and committed them to memory.