Thank you for the Ko-Fi Maryana and Puffball 🧡🧡
Samael was rarely stunned.
Emil fled in a panic.
After returning to the dormitory, Emil opened the system panel and entered a copy without a second thought.
This time, Emil was completely different from his usual sloppy self, rushing madly at the front. Cards were thrown out like snowflakes, and his eyes were red with rage, as if the monsters had killed his wife.
The players who entered with him didn’t even dare to provoke Emil, avoiding him more actively than they did the monsters.
Samael watched the live broadcast from his dormitory with a dark expression.
The barrage flashed across the screen.
[Is Emil always this fierce?]
[What’s going on with this handsome guy recently? Did he mutate?]
[Don’t you know? Emil was showing off on the 50th floor and ended up facing a new player who is very popular recently. As a result, Emil, who’s from the 300th floor, was counter-attacked and almost died. He’s probably venting his frustration in the copy.]
[Is the newbie you’re talking about called Bai Lixin? I’ve also been watching his live broadcast lately. He’s so good it’s ridiculous.]
[Looks like Emil and Bai Lixin have a grudge now. Emil’s probably treating the copy monsters like they’re Bai Lixin.]
Samael’s mouth turned downward.
This wasn’t treating the monsters like Bai Lixin; this was treating the monsters like him, Samael.
He threw out the question but ran off without giving him time to answer.
Why did he run?
Emil finished the copy task ahead of time with absolute dominance.
When the time was up, he was teleported back to the player’s dormitory in the game lobby, and a flood of private message notifications came flooding in.
[Emil, did you take the wrong medicine?]
[Emil, why did you suddenly get so fierce?]
[Emil, did Bai Lixin really crush you?]
[Boss, take me with you next time.]
Among the flood of private messages, Emil immediately noticed Samael’s.
Samael only sent two words: [I want.]
Emil’s breath stagnated.
‘You want, my foot!’
He admitted he was somewhat addicted and infatuated with Samael.
But it seemed like the other person only felt obligated toward him.
Emil even felt like he was just a momentary charity case in Samael’s otherwise boring life.
He was downgrading himself to be compatible.
Every time he was bound, whipped, slapped, it hit his sweet spot just right.
No matter how disheveled and broken he was, Samael was always there in that cloak he never took off, without even a single new wrinkle in his clothes, always maintaining that aloof attitude.
He had long since been completely exposed before Samael—his cries, his trembles, and his pleas for mercy were all laid bare.
Samael knew everything about him, yet he knew nothing about Samael.
He didn’t even know what Samael looked like.
It was as if the other party saw him as nothing more than a toy or a test subject, experimenting on his endurance.
When they were together, he was indeed happy; Samael’s actions acted like a catalyst.
But when it all faded away, Emil was left only with fear.
He was afraid, and he knew that the more things went on like this, the more he couldn’t leave Samael.
That guy was like opium, forcibly making him submit, forcing him to bow down.
He had agreed to Samael’s proposal too hastily.
A private message notification rang out.
Emil glanced over; it was from Samael.
[Open the door.]
Emil walked to the door in shock. He opened the door and saw the tall man in the cloak occupying the entire doorway.
Unless the dormitory owner allowed it, no one could enter the room. Samael stood outside, his voice calm yet firm: “Will you let me in, or will you come to my place?”
Samael was holding a box in his hand; it was unclear what was inside.
Emil subconsciously took two steps back. “What do you want?”
Samael: “Didn’t I already answer you?”
Emil: “What?”
Samael: “I want.”
“…” Emil hesitated for two seconds. “I don’t want to anymore.”
He couldn’t keep relying on Samael.
Even without Samael, it didn’t matter. The contract only said he couldn’t hurt himself in the copy; it didn’t say he couldn’t find someone else.
The horror game had created so many lost and mad humans, gathered across various floors.
If he really wanted to, he could always find a suitable candidate.
Samael’s jaw tensed, and his voice dropped to a frightening coldness. “Are you sure?”
Having figured it all out, Emil’s mood lightened. He leaned against the wall like a gangster, a carefree smile on his face. “Of course.”
Samael: “You don’t want it anymore?”
Emil: “I should thank you. I feel like my illness seems to have gotten better. I haven’t thought about it recently. Sorry to make you come all this way, but if I want it, I’ll come to you.”
The man outside remained silent, and the air was eerily quiet.
Emil’s palms hidden behind his back were sweating.
After a long time, the man outside finally spoke in a low voice: “Then I’ll go.”
Samael turned and left, and Emil shut the door with force.
After Samael had gone far away, Emil took a large cloak from his bag and draped it over himself. After making sure it concealed his figure and appearance, he left the room, got onto the elevator and pressed the button for the 200th floor.
In fact, the best place to do this was on the 450th floor, but his level wasn’t high enough. However, Samael’s level was.
Samael had taken him to the commercial street on the 450th floor twice. The bars there were filled with drunken players. They indulged themselves day and night, their faces and eyes full of madness.
But without Samael leading him, the only place he could go was the massage parlor on the 200th floor.
The 200th floor was a service floor for massages, offering a wide variety of treatments.
SAP, massages, physical therapy, traditional Chinese massage—many options were available.
Emil wrapped himself tightly in his cloak and entered the massage parlor.
At the front desk stood an NPC with a professional fake smile. As soon as Emil approached, the NPC smiled even wider. “What service do you need, sir? We offer foot massages, full-body massages…”
Emil: “Full-body massage!”
He paused, then added, “Get me the strongest masseur you have.”
The NPC: “Understood, one male masseur! Room 302, please!”
Emil changed into the bathrobe provided by the massage parlor and lay down comfortably on the bed.
The door clicked open, and footsteps approached.
Emil was drowsy and he mumbled with sleepiness, “I like it rough. Use as much force as you can. The harder, the better. I’ll give you a tip.”
There was no response, only heavy footsteps.
Just as Emil started to feel suspicious and turned his head, a cool rubbery touch pressed down on the back of his neck.
The other person had great strength, and with one press, Emil almost felt like his neck was going to break.
He let out a satisfied hum and completely relaxed into the massage bed. “Yes, that’s the strength I want. Keep going.”
‘Samael, who cares if you’re not here?’
‘I have points! I can pay to have fun!’
The masseur’s hands were large and strong enough.
Emil could feel the hands massaging from his neck all the way down.
His body started trembling, and Emil buried his face in the cloak beneath him, sighing in comfort over and over.
He wasn’t sure how long had passed, but just as he was nearing the peak of his pleasure, the masseur got up and left.
After a while, the door opened again, and someone stood behind him, speaking respectfully: “Sir, masseur 4433 is at your service. May I start now?”
Emil nodded in a daze. “Hurry up and continue. Don’t waste time.”
Hands once again pressed against his back, but the pressure was significantly weaker this time. The hand shape was wrong—it wasn’t the same masseur.
Frustrated, Emil pushed them away. “Bring the masseur from before.”
4433: “Sir, what are you talking about? I’m the only masseur here. No one else has come by.”
Emil suddenly sat up. “Then who was here just now?”
4433: “I don’t know. When I arrived, you were the only one in the room.”
Emil: “Can’t you check the cameras? Someone was in my room just now.”
4433: “I’m sorry, sir, but because this is a massage parlor, there are no cameras installed here for the privacy of our guests.”
Emil’s pupils contracted, and cold sweat broke out on his back.
‘It was Samael.’
‘It had to be Samael.’
‘That haunting bastard!’
4433: “Sir, do you still need the massage?”
Emil gritted his teeth. “Continue!”
After just two minutes, Emil chased 4433 out. He hurriedly dressed, threw on his cloak, and fled back to the dormitory with his tail between his legs.
There was a paper bag left at the door of his dormitory. He didn’t know who had placed it there.
Emil grabbed it, glanced inside then hurriedly brought it inside.
He strode into the bathroom, tearing off his cloak to reveal his slightly disheveled face.
The young man in the mirror stared coldly, casting a hateful glance at the bag on the sink before finally biting his lip and taking out a few clips.
The silver clips were lined with soft velvet. They could grip firmly but didn’t hurt.
A thin silver chain connected the clips together.
Emil attached the clips where they belonged, one hand gripping the sink, the other pulling hard on the slender chain.
His skin turned red from the tugging, and his mind grew foggy. He stared at his flushed face in the mirror, his thoughts filled with the memory of those large hands roaming over his body.
“Samael,” his muscles spasmed and trembled, and the fingers gripping the sink turned white from the strain. “Samael.”
He called out that name uncontrollably, and sticky liquid pooled on the floor.
…
This is the music hall on the 350th floor, and also a den of debauchery where some players indulge in their wild pleasures.
The music hall has a main hall used for regular performances of song and dance.
But beneath the main hall, there are many hidden side chambers.
Here, players abandon themselves to the pursuit of pleasure, and unknown secret affairs happen every night.
“I heard today’s offering is quite good.”
To conceal their true identities, there is one rule everyone must follow here.
That rule is to wear a mask.
In the dimly lit room, purple lights swayed suggestively.
