"Believe you're still wondering whether ghosts really exist in this world. Come play a little game — the truth will reveal itself the moment you open your eyes."
The nightmare-level mission description was incredibly vague. It gave no clear indication of what exactly needed to be done, just an unsettling feeling.
"Judging by the description, it seems like I just need to play a game. But can a single game really qualify as nightmare-level?" To complete the normal-difficulty mission, he had worked for several consecutive hours without rest just to patch up all the mannequins before the deadline.
Chen Ge scrolled through his phone, growing more curious the more he read. "Maybe I should give it a shot?"
The moment the thought surfaced, it spread through his mind like vines, impossible to control.
"Nightmare-level missions offer the highest rewards. Besides, of the three missions that refreshed today, I have zero confidence in completing either the easy or the normal one. Might as well roll the dice."
If the off-season couldn't be survived, the haunted house would have to be sold off. Chen Ge knew his situation all too well. Having finally caught a glimpse of hope for change, he wasn't about to let any opportunity slip by.
"That settles it. Sooner or later, I was going to have to check out a nightmare-level mission anyway."
He sat up in bed and tapped the final mission.
"Confirm acceptance of nightmare-difficulty daily mission? Acceptance may trigger unknown consequences."
"Confirm."
The phone screen flickered, and the actual mission details emerged.
"To see another world, you need extraordinary courage, exceptional luck, and a small helping hand. The following game is called 'You in the Mirror': At 2:04 a.m., enter the bathroom alone, lock the bathroom door, turn off the lights, face the mirror, and light a candle between yourself and the mirror. Then close your eyes, focus your mind, and slowly whisper your own name.
In the darkness, anything can happen. A stranger's face may appear in the mirror. A pair of crimson eyes may be watching from the corner. Blood may seep from the walls and doorframe. All you must do is remain unmoved — stand quietly before the mirror.
After thirty minutes, the mission will automatically succeed, provided that you do not open your eyes no matter what happens during that time."
After reading the mission description, a chill ran through Chen Ge. "Could there really be another world that ordinary people can't see?"
It was still early — 2:04 a.m. was a ways off. He wasn't in a hurry. Instead, he went online and searched for information related to the game.
Before long, he actually found something. Some people who had played the game claimed to have been plagued by misfortune. Others were vague but repeatedly mentioned a disfigured face. There were even cases of people disappearing inside their own homes, presumed to have been dragged into the mirror's world.
"The details they provide are so vivid and convincing, like ghost stories out of a book." The more Chen Ge read, the more curious he became. He ran a haunted house himself — every day he was figuring out how to scare people, how to deliver a more thrilling experience within safe limits. After reading all these accounts of the game, he felt as though an entirely new door was swinging open.
"Playing a horror game alone in a haunted house in the dead of night — just thinking about it gets the blood pumping!"
He checked his phone's battery level and decided this historic moment deserved to be recorded.
"I'll film the whole thing. If it really is that terrifying, maybe my haunted house could have a new attraction." He rummaged through drawers and boxes looking for a candle and a lighter. At two o'clock sharp, he headed to the first-floor bathroom of the haunted house with everything prepared.
There was careful reasoning behind his choice of the first-floor bathroom. If something truly horrifying appeared during the game, he could simply jump out the window and escape.
In the dead of night, the haunted house was utterly silent. A young man who would risk anything to save on electricity carried a flashlight and a candle and, without much hesitation, locked himself inside the narrow, cramped bathroom.
"A sealed, pitch-black environment is the most effective at drawing out the fear buried inside a person's heart. The bathroom is also the place with the heaviest yin energy in the entire building. Mirrors, louvered doors, sinks — these props seem ordinary and mundane, but they are actually the everyday objects most capable of delivering psychological suggestion. The person who designed this game is clever. They understand how to exploit the deepest weaknesses of the human mind, using a simple environment to conjure the deepest terror." Chen Ge possessed an understanding of horror and fear that set him apart from ordinary people. He analyzed and learned as he went.
"True fear doesn't really require expensive props. You just need to amplify the unease buried deep inside the visitor's heart, and he will defeat himself." Chen Ge took a deep breath, activated his phone's camera function, and spoke to the screen: "I don't know what consequences this game will actually produce. If something happens to me, please — whoever finds this phone — make sure to save this video. It will be a key. A key that unlocks the lock of lies."
After finishing his message, Chen Ge propped the phone against the sink. From that angle, the camera could capture both him and the mirror facing him.
"2:01. Three minutes to go."
Waiting for death is more terrifying than death itself. In the silent bathroom, every tiny sound was magnified. As the time inched closer and closer, Chen Ge's heartbeat grew faster and faster.
He watched the time on the phone screen. When the minute hand pointed to the four, he switched off the flashlight, lit the candle, and placed it between himself and the mirror.
The flickering flame became the sole source of light in the darkness, standing between the mirror and reality like a guiding soul lantern, as if beckoning something within the glass to emerge.
Chen Ge glanced at his own reflection in the mirror and felt, inexplicably, that something looked strange. "Has the game started?"
He slowly lowered his head, closed his eyes, and softly spoke his name.
"Chen Ge, Chen Ge, Chen Ge…"
Repeating one's own name over and over gradually creates a sense of unfamiliarity with that name — the same phenomenon that occurs when you write a single Chinese character over and over until, by the end, you can no longer recognize it.
To avoid this, Chen Ge counted silently to three after each repetition. This also served as a way to track time.
After all, the condition for mission success was that no matter what happened during those thirty minutes, he must not open his eyes.
"2 a.m. in the morning, alone in a haunted house, candle lit, eyes closed, standing in front of a mirror playing a game. If I weren't experiencing this myself, I'd never believe anyone would actually do something like this." Chen Ge continued whispering his name, fighting with all his will to keep his thoughts from wandering.
"This game is saturated with psychological suggestion. The hardest part isn't dealing with the so-called ghosts and legends — it's restraining yourself. As long as I don't open my eyes, there shouldn't be any danger."
Easier said than done. After the first ten minutes passed, something unexpected happened.