A Horror Game Steeped in Immorality - Volume 2 - Part 1

[Would you like to continue the game, player?]

 

 

 

In the pitch-black darkness where not even an inch ahead is visible, orange-tinted letters caught my eye.

 

 

 

[YES/NO]

 

 

 

NO was grayed out and inactive. The only option available for the player was YES.

 

 

 

[You’ve made an excellent choice.]

 

 

 

[The difficulty will automatically adjust to hard mode.]

 

 

 

I never chose to adjust the difficulty.  Even as I cried out in injustice, my voice was swallowed by the void that consumed both light and sound, leaving not even the whisper of a breath to stir the silence.

 

 

 

[Item drop rates within the mansion will significantly decrease.]

 

 

 

[The difficulty of sudden missions will increase. Rewards from missions will be given randomly. You would have to choose one of the three surprise boxes, containing one hidden item and two undisclosed items, to claim your reward.]

 

 

 

[The mansion will be drenched in the carnage of the murderer. The murderer will no longer operate only in the darkness. The murderer now has no hesitation in revealing themselves. The murderer’s goal is to kill everyone in the mansion without exception.]

 

 

 

[In hard mode, reset is impossible. Game Out would eventually mean death.]

 

 

 

[Miss, please be careful not to be murdered.]

 

 

 

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

 

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

 

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

 

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

 

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

 

 

 

The orange letters enveloped the entire space. As I shifted my gaze, the mocking laughter ‘hahaha’ disturbed my view. Just as my stomach began to churn with unease, viscous blood flowed over the letters. The entire space turned red with blood. I felt as if I was floating, only to then fall endlessly.

 

 

Thud!

 

 

 

****

 

 

 

“Ugh…!”

 

 

 

I gasped for air, blinking rapidly as the blurry sights before me gradually sharpened. The intense smell of blood rushing into my nostrils grounded my chaotic mind.

 

 

 

“Hah, hah… Ugh!”

 

 

 

A cloud of pale cigarette smoke billowed over my face as I breathed heavily. Coughing, I hurriedly turned my face away, only to be caught by a large hand.

 

 

 

“What are you daydreaming about when your father is speaking, child?”

 

 

 

“Ah…”

 

 

 

Dry saliva scraped down my parched throat. Meanwhile, my body was sweating profusely, overtaken by a chilling tension.

 

 

 

As I failed to respond immediately, just glaring wide-eyed, Daymond’s thick, well-defined eyebrows twitched in displeasure. He released me and pulled out a pair of black leather gloves from his pocket. His large, sinewy hand was smoothly enveloped by the glossy leather, its sleek texture accentuating his powerful grip.

 

 

 

As he stood before me, donning his gloves with an aura of dignity and intimidation, I struggled to calm my racing heart.

 

 

 

“…Father.”

 

 

 

His gloved hand wrapped around my forearm. The sound of my white slip being crushed against the black leather sounded almost like a scream.

 

 

 

“……”

 

 

 

Daymond dragged me unhesitatingly towards the bed. The thought of resisting his terrifying strength didn’t even cross my mind. Sitting on the bed with his legs wide open, Daymond placed me between his legs and coldly said,

 

 

 

“Kneel down, my child.”

 

 

 

“Father, where have you been?”

 

 

 

My voice trembled pathetically. I was scared. Scared that Daymond might be the murderer. Scared that he might kill me. Though I tried not to show my fear, tears continuously fell from my wide-open eyes.

 

 

 

“Wh-What have you been doing until now….?”

 

 

 

“Do you want to hear?”

 

 

 

I mustered my strength while my lips quivered as I gave him a nod. A terrible silence followed. Daymond’s persistent gaze bore into my face. I felt suffocated under his stare. Above my suppressed sobs, a dreadfully low voice resonated.

 

 

 

“You’ve got the order wrong. You should seek forgiveness first.”

 

 

 

“……”

 

 

 

“Show me some tricks to make me feel like answering.”

 

 

 

“How…”

 

 

 

“If a naughty child doesn’t listen to her father, she needs to be disciplined. It won’t just end with a simple spanking on the b*ttocks. Before I punish you severely, listen to me obediently, child.”

 

 

 

My fingertips trembled. It was clear from his ominously calm demeanor that Daymond wasn’t joking. I had already disobeyed Daymond twice. Not taking off my clothes and not kneeling before him. Could severe punishment mean murder?

 

 

 

Slowly, I lowered my body. Thump. My knees touched the ground. A satisfied sigh came from above.

 

 

 

“Lift your head.”

 

 

 

As I lifted my head, tears that had pooled in my eyes fell down my cheeks. Cold leather caressed my face, wiping away the tears. Daymond leaned forward, resting his arm on his knee, bringing our gazes closer.

 

 

 

He said nothing. Realizing what Daymond’s silence implied, I lifted my slip up to just below my chest with trembling hands. Daymond straightened his back, his gaze sweeping over my exposed skin as if licking. Wherever his eyes landed, goosebumps arose in chilling waves.

 

 

 

The sharp tip of his black shoe pushed my slip further up. My flushed br*asts were fully exposed.

 

 

 

“Which of the two h*rny bastards is it?”

 

 

 

A sinister voice flowed. I just kept biting my lower lip painfully.

 

 

 

“Lycan? Lionel?”

 

 

 

“……”

 

 

 

“Or was it both of them?”

 

 

 

The shoe moved away. The slip softly brushed against my bare skin, finding its place. Then, a hand in a leather glove firmly gripped my hair. It wasn’t painful, but the grip was strong enough that I couldn’t easily shake it off.

 

 

 

“Child, you’re in for a rough scolding today.”

 

 

 

****

 

 

 

“Umm, uh… Father.”

 

 

 

My slender and white hand trembled pitifully on the muscled thigh. I had to rub my cheek against his hot, ominously heavy cr*tch like a cat begging for affection. Daymond’s trousers bore even darker marks from his pre-c*m and my saliva.

 

 

 

“I’m sorry, please forgive me…”

 

 

 

Despite my tearful plea, the hand gripping my head showed no mercy. Daymond smoked his harsh cigarette with cold eyes, grinding my face against his weapon-like p*nis.

 

 

 

“Uh, um…”

 

 

 

“Other parents worry about their children not getting along, but I worry about my children screwing each other.”

 

 

 

I barely managed to hold back from saying that a normal father wouldn’t get an e***t*on from seeing his daughter, nor would he rub his e***t p*nis on his daughter’s face.