The harsh golden light from the window poured in, making Su Huainan squeeze his eyes shut in pain. He opened them, then shut them again, repeating several times before he could barely adapt.

As his vision cleared, the first sight that entered his eyes made his scalp prickle—

A shadow was standing right beside the bed.
It stared straight at him. No eyes, no nose, no mouth. Its entire body seemed smeared in thick ink, leaving only the vague outline of a human figure.

“…Hey.”

The voice was hoarse and broken, like someone forcing words out of a broken speaker. It was calling him.

Su Huainan didn’t move. His heart pounded so violently it felt like it would burst from his chest.

At that moment—

A mechanical, cold voice rang out, not from the shadow, but from the four walls around him:

“Welcome, player [Su Huainan], to the instance [Class A4: The Sinners]. Following your feedback on graphical issues, we have promptly applied fixes…”

The sound was dry, metallic, screeching, repeating endlessly about “three-star reviews” and “improved graphics.”

The shadow remained there, staring at Su Huainan, as if it couldn’t hear the system at all.

When the machine voice finally went silent, the shadow lowered its head, reached out a cold hand, and gripped Su Huainan’s left hand tightly:

“…Huainan? Huainan, are you awake? Are you… afraid of me?”

Su Huainan’s whole body stiffened, fighting back a scream. The icy chill from its touch seeped straight into his heart.

“…Huainan? Are you afraid of me? Are you—”

Before it could finish, Su Huainan’s instincts exploded. He yanked his arm free and bolted off the bed. The moment his feet hit the floor, he dashed straight for the bathroom.

Bang!

The door slammed shut. Su Huainan pressed his back against it, trembling as if he might collapse. The faint crackling “zzzt-zzzt” still echoed outside, but the shadow did not force its way in. It simply stood there, silent.

Su Huainan clenched his jaw so hard it almost shattered, then raised his head to the mirror above the sink.

The reflection made his blood run cold.

Bloodshot eyes, gaze unfocused. Skin pale, drenched in sweat, as if he’d been pulled from boiling water. His whole body looked like a cornered kitten, fur bristling, ready to claw.

Biting his lip, he forced himself to breathe. One, two, three… He pressed his ear to the door, listening. Silence outside.

Fortunately, it had left. But why? No one knew.

Su Huainan dared not question it, nor did he want to test his luck again. If that thing returned… it might not let him go next time.

He steadied his heartbeat, splashed water on his face, then staggered out.

The dorm room appeared under the pale white light. Walls plastered with sticky notes, outlines, timetables. Wooden lockers lined the far wall—ordinary, like any student dorm. Yet the more normal it looked, the more eerie Su Huainan felt.

If it were someone else, they’d probably tear through the lockers for clues. But not Su Huainan.

He walked straight to the timetable posted beside the bed.

> “Timetable effective from __ / __ / __
Yongxing High School”

“Damn it…”

Su Huainan muttered, heart racing again. This place—was exactly like the very first instance he chose when he downloaded Dream Prison.

A few hours ago, he had still been a senior university student, calmly preparing his thesis.
A few hours ago, he had casually downloaded the game, just to kill time.
A few hours ago, he had angrily left a three-star review, cursing its bad graphics and constant crashes.

And now, he had been swallowed whole by the game itself.

Su Huainan gritted his teeth, clutching the timetable.

“Math first period… Literature after that…”

There was no way back. If he wanted to live, he had to follow the script of the dungeon.

Resolving himself, Su Huainan stuffed his notebook into his bag, skipped breakfast, and dashed downstairs.

Sixth floor. Fifth floor. Fourth floor…

“Good, nothing happened—”

The words died in his throat. The moment he stepped out of the dormitory, the entire world twisted. Space warped and churned, as if crushed and kneaded by an unseen giant hand.

When the ground finally steadied beneath his feet, Su Huainan nearly vomited. Sweat poured down as he braced against the floor.

What greeted him—

A classroom.

Desks neatly arranged, podium empty, white light flooding the room. And all around him, shadowy figures slowly turned their heads, staring in unison.

Dozens of hollow, lifeless gazes.

They were all… “classmates” of A4.