Seeing that line of blood-red text, I felt like I was about to break down completely.

My legs began to weaken, and cold sweat broke out on my back. That line of blood writing "Do not make Nora unhappy" hung over my head like a sharp sword, making me afraid to make any more rough movements. Just now I had lost my temper at her, yelled at her, questioned her—thinking about it now, I was practically playing with fire.


I slowly turned around and walked back to Nora with trembling steps. She was still sitting on the edge of the bed, maintaining that standardized smile, as if nothing had happened. But now that smile appeared terrifyingly abnormal to me. I didn't know if she was truly "unhappy" inside, nor did I know what would happen if she really became unhappy.

"I'm sorry," I said cautiously, my voice trembling, "I was too impulsive just now."

"It's alright, sir," she replied in that same flat tone, "the service will continue."


I nervously sat down across from her, my palms sweaty. The feeling now was like sitting next to a time bomb, afraid that one careless move would trigger something terrible. I didn't dare speak loudly anymore, didn't dare do anything that might be interpreted as "making her unhappy."

I secretly glanced at the laptop screen, where the 2ch thread already had dozens of new replies. I quickly opened it to check.


"230: OP is still updating? You're really into this RPG, huh"

"231: Blood writing? What kind of ghost story setting is this?"

"232: Wait, the details OP just mentioned are too specific, doesn't seem made up"

"233: I've been to Twilight Haven too, it is indeed weird, but not as exaggerated as OP claims"

"234: If OP is really in trouble, I suggest you be cooperative, don't make that girl angry"

Seeing these replies, a glimmer of hope welled up inside me. Finally, someone was starting to believe me, at least not everyone thought I was making up stories. Especially the suggestion from user #234, which aligned perfectly with my current thinking—cooperate with her, don't make her angry.

I quickly typed an update:

"Everyone, I'm really scared now. That line written in blood definitely wasn't there when I first came in. I don't dare to upset her anymore, fearing something terrible might happen. Does anyone know what 'Forbidden to make Nora unhappy' means? What happens if you violate it?"

Replies appeared quickly:

"235: OP, if this is real, you'd better fully cooperate with her now. These establishments have their own rules"

"236: I'm starting to believe OP, this description is too detailed and realistic"

"237: Hang in there, OP, whatever you do, don't provoke her!"

"238: Wait, the blood writing appeared by itself? That's too creepy"

"239: OP, which district are you in? I can call the police to help you"

Seeing network user #239's suggestion, I hurriedly replied: "Shinjuku District, Twilight Haven. But I'm not sure if calling the police will help, the situation here is too bizarre."

Just as I was seeking help on the forum, Nora suddenly stood up. Her movements were still so elegant, so standardized, as if executed according to some program.

"Sir, the service will continue," she said with a smile, her voice still calm, "next is the spiritual comfort program."

Spiritual comfort? I remembered seeing this item on the price list, but there was no specific explanation of what it entailed. I had originally thought it might be regular services like chatting or massage, but considering how bizarre this place was, I began to worry that this "spiritual comfort" might not be what I imagined.

"Please sit over here," she pointed to a chair in the center of the room, "and please remove your shirt."

Take off my shirt? My heart immediately leapt into my throat. Although I knew that services at these establishments usually required this, in such an eerie environment, any request filled me with fear.

But I didn't dare refuse. That line written in blood constantly reminded me that I absolutely could not displease her.

"Alright," I tried to make my voice sound calm as I slowly walked toward that chair.

The chair was very simple in design, just an ordinary white plastic chair that looked like it had been purchased from a nearby convenience store. But when I sat down on it, the chair felt unusually cold, as if it had just been taken out of a refrigerator.

I trembled as I removed my T-shirt, and the skin on my upper body immediately felt the unusual coldness of the room. For some reason, the temperature in the room seemed to have suddenly dropped by several degrees, and I could even see my breath forming white mist.

"Please relax, sir," Nora walked behind me, her voice sounding right next to my ear, "This will bring comfort to your soul."

I felt her fingers lightly touch my back, the sensation unusually cold, just like ice cubes. Her fingertips began to move slowly across my back, not massaging, but as if drawing something.

At first I thought she was just performing some kind of massage technique, but soon I realized something wasn't right. Her finger movements were very methodical, as if tracing a specific pattern. And everywhere her fingertips passed, they left a bone-chilling coldness, as if carving something onto my skin.

"What is she doing?" I wondered silently, but didn't dare to speak up.

I could feel her drawing a complex pattern on my back. Judging from the movement path of her fingers, it seemed to be some kind of geometric figure, with many straight lines and curves, and some intricate lines whose shapes I couldn't even imagine.

The most terrifying part was that wherever her fingers passed, a strange sensation would arise, not just coldness, but also something akin to a mild electric current, causing my skin to become slightly numb.

I didn't dare move, or even breathe loudly, afraid to interrupt what she was...whatever that was.

I secretly glanced at the laptop placed beside me, the screen still lit up, displaying a 2ch page. I extended my trembling right hand, trying not to let Nora notice my movement, and typed on the keyboard:

"She is......drawing on my back, it's so cold. Her fingers are like ice. I don't know what pattern she's drawing, it's very complex. I dare not move."

I clicked send, then nervously waited for replies while continuing to endure Nora's "service" behind my back.

The forum immediately exploded, with replies coming faster than ever before:

"240: Holy shit! What kind of ritual is this?!"

"241: OP don't move at all! This might be some kind of spell!"

"242: Drawing talismans? Is that a Taoist thing?"

"243: No, it sounds more like some kind of cult ritual"

"244: OP, quickly try to please her! Say something nice!"

"245: I'm starting to think OP isn't making up this story, the description is too real"

"246: Any experts here who can explain what's the deal with drawing patterns on someone's back?"

"247: OP is still updating so they're still alive, keep streaming!"

"248: Is this really an RPG? I'm getting scared"

Seeing these replies, I felt both a hint of comfort and increasing fear. The comfort came from finally having more people believe my experience, while the fear came from their speculations making the situation even more terrifying. Sorcery? Cult rituals? These words sent chills down my spine.

User #244's suggestion made me think of something. Yes, I should try to please her, say nice things, keep her in a good mood. I can't lose my temper with her like I did earlier.

But what should I say? I racked my brain trying to figure out how to start the conversation. As a salesperson in my forties, I was most skilled at reading people and bringing up light topics to ease the atmosphere. Although the current situation was completely different from any sales scenario I had encountered before, perhaps those techniques could still be useful.

"Um, Miss Nora," I carefully began, keeping my voice as gentle as possible, "your craftsmanship is really quite special."

She didn't respond and continued her "drawing" work behind me. I could feel her fingers tracing a particularly complex part with many intersecting lines.

"I work in sales at a company," I continued, trying to find some light topics, "I often have to deal with all kinds of customers. Once I met a particularly difficult customer who insisted that our product had to be pink, but our company never produced pink versions..."

I began to talk about some amusing incidents from my previous work, those strange customer encounters that were often shared as jokes among colleagues. Usually, these stories could help listeners relax and even smile. But Nora had absolutely no reaction; her breathing remained steady, and the movement of her fingers didn't change at all.

"Later we came up with a solution," I continued, "We put a pink film on the white product, and the client was very satisfied after seeing it, even praising us for being creative..."

Still no reaction. She was like a precision machine, concentrating entirely on executing her program, with no response to any external information.

I started feeling frustrated, but didn't dare to stop talking. I worried that if I suddenly fell silent, it might be interpreted as non-cooperation or might make her uncomfortable. So I continued telling one work anecdote after another, my voice getting softer and my tone becoming increasingly unnatural.

Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed the window on the left side of the room.

I had previously confirmed that the window was actually painted on the wall, not a real window at all. But now, as I looked at it again, I could hardly believe my eyes.

The window no longer showed the cityscape at night that I had seen before, nor was it just a simple wall surface. Now, through that "window," I saw a deep, pitch-black underwater world.

It was a deep blue-black color I had never seen before, like the very bottom of the deep sea. In that darkness, I could see tiny points of light slowly floating, like the bioluminescence emitted by deep-sea plankton. Even more shocking were the massive shadows slowly moving through that darkness.

I held my breath and observed those shadows carefully. Their shapes... they looked like some kind of enormous fish, but abnormally large, bigger than any fish I had ever seen. They swam slowly in the deep sea, creating dark currents that made the surrounding luminous points fluctuate.

One of the shadows slowly swam closer to the "window," and I finally could make out its silhouette. It was a gigantic fish, or rather, some fish-like creature. Its body was shaped like a small submarine, with an eerie texture on its surface that reflected a metallic luster under the fluorescent light.

The most terrifying thing was its eyes. They were a pair of enormous eyes emitting a pale blue glow, at least one meter in diameter. When it swam near the window, one of its eyes faced directly toward the window, as if staring at me inside the room.

That feeling of being watched made all the hair on my body stand on end. Although my rational mind told me this couldn't be real, that the window was just painted on the wall, the oppressive sensation of being observed by that giant eye was so authentic, so intense, that I almost stopped breathing.

The enormous fish-like creature lingered outside the window for a few seconds, then slowly swam away. But soon, another larger shadow appeared. This creature had a more bizarre shape, unlike any marine creature I knew. It had slender tentacles swaying in the water, each tens of meters long.

I wanted to tell Nora about what I was seeing, but I didn't dare to speak up. I worried that if I showed fear or surprise, it might be taken as dissatisfaction with her "service," which would make her "displeased."

I could only sit stiffly in my chair, enduring the strange "drawing" she was performing on my back while watching the impossible deep-sea world outside the window.

My hand reached for my laptop again, typing with trembling fingers:

"The window has changed. It's no longer the city nightscape. Now it's... it's the deep sea. There are enormous fish swimming around. Their eyes... are huge, looking at me. This can't be real, but it looks too real."

I clicked send, waiting for the netizens' reactions while continuing to observe the bizarre underwater world outside my window.

The forum responses exploded immediately:

"249: Deep sea? What the hell?!"

"250: OP, are you hallucinating?"

"251: Giant fish? What kind of SCP setting is this?"

"252: OP, if this is real, you might be experiencing a supernatural phenomenon"

"253: Deep sea... reminds me of some urban legends about buildings connected to alternate worlds"

"254: OP, whatever you do, don't look out the window! Focus on cooperating with that girl!"

"255: Is this an RPG or real? I'm getting scared"

"256: Does anyone know the exact location of Twilight Haven in Shinjuku? I want to check it out"

Seeing these responses, I felt both terrified and grateful. Terrified because even the internet users were beginning to realize things might genuinely be abnormal, grateful because at least some people were taking my plea for help seriously.

Just at that moment, I felt Nora's finger stop at a certain point on my back. She seemed to have completed drawing that complex pattern and was now making the final touches.

"Almost finished, sir," she whispered, her voice right by my ear, "You will soon feel the comfort of the soul."

Her words made me even more nervous. What did she mean by "comfort of the soul"? What exactly was the purpose of the pattern she was drawing on my back? And was the deep sea scene outside the window somehow related to what she was doing?

I dared not turn around to look at her, nor did I dare to ask. I could only continue sitting there, feeling her cold fingertips performing the final "work" on my back, while observing that impossible deep-sea world outside the window from the corner of my eye.

In that deep blue-black water, more strange creatures began to appear. Some resembled giant jellyfish, their transparent bodies pulsating slowly in the water, emitting faint light. Others looked like giant octopuses, countless tentacles swaying in the water, each tentacle covered with luminous suckers.

Most disturbing was that all these creatures seemed to be swimming in the same direction, as if being summoned by something. And that direction was precisely toward this "window."

I began to wonder if the pattern Nora had drawn on my back had some connection to the appearance of these creatures outside the window. Perhaps the pattern was some kind of summoning spell, perhaps this entire room was a portal to another world, and I was unwittingly participating in some supernatural ritual.

Fear flooded my rationality like a tide, but I dared not show it. I could only continue sitting there, waiting for this nightmare to end, or for something even more terrifying to begin.