Standing in this godforsaken place, I suddenly felt all the alcohol in my system completely dissipate.

It wasn't that gradual sobering-up process, but rather like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over me from head to toe, instantly jolting me into complete sobriety. That earlier drowsy, hazy feeling vanished without a trace, replaced by an extraordinarily clear sense of panic. My brain began working at high speed, analyzing everything that had just happened.


My clothes had disappeared, the door wouldn't open, the windows were fake, and this woman's reactions were completely abnormal. These facts combined in my mind like puzzle pieces, forming a bone-chilling truth: I was trapped.

I reached for the back pocket of my pants and, thankfully, my phone was still there. I quickly pulled it out, and in that moment when the screen lit up, a glimmer of hope flashed through my mind. Perhaps I could call for help, perhaps I could contact the police, perhaps...

But when I saw what was displayed on the screen, that small hope instantly shattered.


The signal bar showed the words "No Signal," accompanied by an empty signal strength indicator. It wasn't weak signal, it wasn't searching—there was simply no signal at all. I walked around the room holding my phone, trying to find a spot with reception, but no matter where I went, the screen displayed the same "No Signal."

"How can there be no signal?" I muttered to myself, staring at the phone screen. "I clearly had a signal downstairs just now!"


I remembered distinctly that when I was downstairs in the building, I had checked responses on 2ch with my phone. The signal was good, and web pages loaded quickly. But now, it was as if I'd entered a signal-blocking zone—my phone couldn't detect any network at all.

I began to pound on the room's door. At first I was still rational, knocking rhythmically with my fist while calling out, "Hey! Is anyone there? Open the door!"

There was no response whatsoever.

The corridor outside was as quiet as a grave, without even the slightest footstep. I increased my force, starting to bang on the door with my entire palm, the sound echoing in the small room.

"Open the door! I want to get out!" My voice began to turn hoarse, "Can anyone hear me?"

Still there was no response.

Despair began to erode my sanity. I started ramming the door with my shoulder, just like in the movies. But this door was unusually sturdy; my shoulder became sore from the impacts, yet the door didn't budge at all. I even tried kicking the door, until my toes hurt, but the doorknob still wouldn't move.

"Open up! Open the door!" I began to shout loudly, my voice becoming hysterical, "I paid money! I have the right to leave! Open the door!"

My shouts echoed in the room, but they sounded strange, as if they were being absorbed by something, without the normal echo effect. And once I stopped shouting, the room would fall into an unusual silence, a silence so profound it was frightening.

As I was frantically pounding on the door, I occasionally glanced back at Nora. She remained sitting in the same position at the edge of the bed, maintaining the same posture, with the same smile on her face. Like a wax figure, she showed absolutely no reaction to my panic and desperation.

"Can't you see?" I shouted at her, "I'm trapped! The door won't open! Don't you find that strange?"

"Sir, the service has not ended yet," she replied in the same flat tone, "Please don't get excited."

Her calm response made me even more angry and frightened. Any normal person would feel concerned or confused in this situation, but she acted as if nothing had happened. This contrast made me feel like I was in a nightmare, and she was part of that nightmare.

I continued pounding on the door until my hands hurt and my shoulder went numb from ramming it. But the door remained solid as a rock, and the hallway outside was still deathly silent. I began to doubt whether there were actually any other people in this building, or if I was no longer in the normal world.

Just when I was about to despair, I suddenly remembered something: my laptop!

I had brought a small backpack when I entered the room, with my laptop inside. It was a Lenovo ThinkPad issued by the company, normally used for handling work emails and browsing websites. I remembered putting the backpack near the chair in the corner of the room.

I rushed over there and, thankfully, the backpack was still there. I unzipped it, and the laptop was lying inside, safe and sound. With trembling hands, I took it out, clutching it like a lifeline.

"Please, please connect to the internet," I prayed while opening the computer. "If only it could connect to the internet."

After the screen turned on, I immediately clicked on the WiFi icon. To my great joy, I actually found a weak WiFi signal! The network name was "Twilight Haven-Guest," and it didn't require a password. Although the signal was very weak, only one bar, I could connect to it!

"Great!" I almost cried out, "There's hope!"

I immediately opened the browser and went to the 2ch website. The page loaded slowly, but at least it opened. I found the previous thread about Nora and prepared to update my situation.

My fingers flew quickly across the keyboard as I wrote:

"【URGENT HELP】I think I'm trapped! Can't open the door!"

"Hey guys, I'm in big trouble now! I went to Twilight Haven to find Nora as recommended earlier, but now the door won't open! My clothes are also missing! I'm trapped in the room!"

"This is not a joke! My phone has no signal! Only my laptop can access the internet! Does anyone know what's going on?"

After clicking the send button, I nervously waited for responses from other users. Perhaps someone had encountered a similar situation, or someone knew inside information about this establishment, or maybe an experienced veteran could offer me some advice.

Soon, the first reply appeared:

"213：RPG bro（thanks for the effort making up this story）w"

What? RPG? What does that mean? I frowned looking at this reply, then remembered that RPG in internet slang sometimes refers to "Role Playing Game." They think I'm making up a story?

Then more replies kept appearing:

"214：OP is playing quite an elaborate game w Even able to get online and update posts from in there, nice script"

"215：You might be getting scammed, better pay up. I know Twilight Haven's tricks"

"216：Can't open the door? That's because it's not time yet, is this your first visit, bro?"

"217：It's normal for your clothes to disappear, they'll wash them for you, don't worry"

"218：OP's acting skills are pretty good, almost believed it. Keep going, let's see how this story develops"

Seeing these replies, I was so angry I almost smashed my computer. They don't believe me at all! Everyone treats my cry for help as if I'm making up stories, as if it's some kind of role-playing game!

I quickly typed on the keyboard, trying to explain:

"I'm not making this up! I'm really trapped here! The windows in the room are fake, just painted on the walls! And this woman's reactions are strange, like a robot!"

"And the price list has weird terms on it! This isn't a normal establishment!"

But the replies were still full of mockery and doubt:

"220: Windows painted on the wall w OP has such a rich imagination"

"221: Robot girl? What kind of new gameplay is this?"

"222: Keep it up OP, I like this horror-themed RPG"

"223: Strange terms? Is there some special play? Tell us more details"

"224: If you're making up stories, just admit it. Young people these days..."

I felt an unprecedented sense of frustration and despair. Words seemed so pale and powerless at this moment; no matter how I described it, I couldn't make these internet users believe the bizarre situation I was experiencing. They lived in a normal world, unable to comprehend the supernatural phenomenon I was facing now.

Controlling my trembling hands, I continued typing:

"I swear I'm not making this up! I'm really scared right now! If anyone knows detailed information about the Twilight Haven, please tell me! What should I do?"

The responses this time were slightly better, with a few people beginning to reply seriously:

"226: If you're really trapped, try to see if there's an emergency button or intercom in the room"

"227: If the original poster is truly in trouble, I suggest carefully examining the room to look for any hidden mechanisms"

"228: I've been to Twilight Haven a few times, it is indeed a bit strange, but not as exaggerated as the original poster describes"

"229: Brother, take a careful look at the facilities in the room, especially those notice boards and such, they sometimes contain important information"

Seeing these somewhat useful suggestions, a glimmer of hope welled up in my heart. Especially the suggestion from user #229, which reminded me of something. That's right, the price list! I had glanced at it briefly when I came in, but hadn't examined it carefully.

I turned to look at the wall of the room, searching for that laminated price list. It was stuck to an inconspicuous spot on the wall by the bed, looking somewhat blurry under the dim light.

I walked over, preparing to carefully read this price list. Perhaps there really was some important information on it, perhaps it contained clues to escape this room.

But when I got close enough to clearly see the contents of the price list, I felt a terrifying chill run from my spine straight to the top of my head.

This price list was different from what I had seen earlier.

No, there was something added to it.

The original price list had various service items and prices, with a very simple format and standard Song typeface, like something made at an ordinary print shop. But now, under the "Prohibited Items" column, there was an additional line in blood-red text.

The text looked as if it had been written in blood, the handwriting crooked and uneven, with obvious traces of blood droplets in some places. In the dim light, those characters flickered with an eerie red glow.

I leaned in closer to read the content of that line:

"Do not make Nora unhappy"

The moment I saw this line, I felt my blood freeze. This text definitely wasn't there when I first entered the room, because I clearly remembered that at that time, the "Prohibited Items" column only listed some standard prohibitions, such as "No violent behavior" and "No audio or video recording."

But now, this blood-red text was blatantly there, as if someone had secretly added it when I wasn't paying attention.

What's more terrifying is that the content of this line itself is full of malicious implications. "Do not make Nora feel uncomfortable"—what does this mean? Does it imply that if I make her uncomfortable, there will be consequences? Does it suggest that my anger and rudeness toward her just now have already violated some sort of rule?

I recall that I did indeed lose my temper with Nora earlier, questioned her reactions, and even yelled at her. According to the logic of this line, I have already broken the rules by making her "feel uncomfortable."

But her expression hasn't changed at all from beginning to end, still maintaining that standardized smile. If she truly felt uncomfortable, why didn't she show it? Or does this "discomfort" refer to something else?

With trembling hands, I reached out, wanting to touch that line written in blood, to see if it was really blood. But when my fingers were about to make contact with the price list, I suddenly stopped.

What if this really was blood, what if touching it would trigger something even more terrifying?

I pulled back my hand and carefully examined the line of text. Under the dim light, those blood-red characters seemed to be trembling slightly, as if they were freshly written blood. Some letters had tiny droplets of blood around their edges, looking as though they might drip down at any moment.

"This is impossible," I told myself, "This is absolutely impossible."

But the fact was right in front of me, that line of blood text appearing clearly on the price list. How to explain it? Had someone sneaked into the room while I wasn't paying attention and added it? Or did the price list itself possess some supernatural quality?

I forced myself to recall what had just happened, trying to find a rational explanation. After entering the room, I first washed up, then talked with Nora, then discovered my clothes were missing, then banged on the door, and finally used the computer to go online. Throughout this entire process, there were indeed several times when I wasn't paying attention to the price list, perhaps during those moments...

But this explanation still doesn't make sense. Who could write in blood on the price list in such a short time, without me noticing at all? And up until now, besides Nora, I haven't seen anyone else in the room.

Could Nora have written it?

I turned to look at her, and she was still sitting by the bed, maintaining the same posture and expression. Her hands were clean, without any blood stains. And since I entered the room, she had been sitting there the entire time, never leaving her spot.

So how did this line written in blood appear?

Fear flooded my rational thinking like a tide. I realized that the situation I was facing had completely transcended common sense and couldn't be explained by normal logic. Perhaps this room truly had some supernatural force, perhaps Nora wasn't a normal human being, perhaps I had already fallen into some bizarre trap.

With trembling hands, I returned to my laptop and updated my post:

"The price list has changed! There's an extra line in blood on it! It says 'Do not make Nora unhappy'! This definitely wasn't there when I came in!"

"I swear I'm not making this up! This is really creepy! Does anyone know what this means?"

I stared at the screen, waiting for responses from internet users, hoping someone could give me some explanation or advice. But I knew clearly that even if I explained in detail, it would be difficult to make them believe this supernatural phenomenon.

In this enclosed room, facing that eerie line written in blood and Nora with her never-changing expression, I felt unprecedented loneliness and fear.

Time seemed to move even more slowly, each second feeling like an hour. I didn't know how much longer I could hold on, nor when this nightmare would end.

All I could do was continue to wait, hoping for a miracle to happen.