The Erotica Heroine Trapped in a Horror Game

“Maybe this is the easiest SSS-level dungeon ever?” someone joked.

I was the only one who stayed quiet, staring up at the sky.

More glowing messages flashed across the air, the chat exploding in laughter.

[Ugh, another bunch wishing to ‘die of old age’? How boring.]

[How many times is this now? Every group that enters picks the same thing. Self-righteous idiots.]

[They’ll find out soon enough why ‘Wish’ is ranked SSS.]

By then, the boss had silently appeared right in front of me.

“You’re the last one,” he said, voice low and cold.

“So… how do you wish to die?”

Well, shit. Guess this is really the end for me.

Before I got dragged into this horror game, I was the heroine of an erotica—waking up every morning in bed tangled up with handsome men. Totally useless at everything else.

Expecting me to come up with some clever survival plan?

Not happening.

I gave up instantly.

If I was destined to die here, I might as well go out fulfilling my greatest wish—

to turn this bleak world into one giant pleasure heaven.

Doesn’t matter if it’s hot or cold—I’ll make it steamy.

And honestly, even with his face hidden behind that swirling black mist, the boss’s broad shoulders, narrow waist, and deep, magnetic voice were dead giveaways. The guy was built.

Lust makes cowards bold.

So without thinking, I said, “I’ll take shortness of breath, trembling legs, glazed eyes, and… pleasure so intense I die from it.”

The boss: “???”

I added helpfully, “Oh, and you’re the one doing it.”

He froze, like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. The black mist around him stopped moving, the air went still.

For a long moment, he just stood there—then slowly took a step back.

I waited for a while, puzzled.

But the boss never said his usual line—no “As you wish.”

Instead, the system’s mechanical voice rang out:

[Preliminary task: “Make a Wish” — completed.]

[Please follow the Boss into the mansion.]

[Main quest: Survive inside the mansion for three days.]

[During these three days, random side quests will appear.]

[Each completed quest grants one new wish.]

[Only the player who makes the correct wish will live to the end.]

By the time we reached the mansion, night had already fallen.

The moment I stepped into the living room, I froze.

Every inch of the wall was lined with framed photos—memorial portraits.

And every photo showed one of us.

Beneath each picture was a handwritten note, listing the person’s wish:

[Die peacefully of old age, no sickness, no pain.]

All except mine.

The words under my photo had been blacked out with thick marker.

Everyone’s gaze instantly fell on me.

The middle-aged man, Pete, was the first to speak.

“Now that I think about it,” he said, narrowing his eyes,

“You didn’t make the same wish as the rest of us, did you? You were hiding off in the corner. So, little miss, what kind of death did you choose?”

Before I could answer, the boss suddenly spoke.

“Players are forbidden to ask about others’ wishes.”

For some reason, his tone sounded… tense.

Seeing that, the others backed off, but their expressions turned smug.

“Look at that—her wish got blacked out. Classic death flag,” one sneered.

“She’s done for tonight.”

“Who’s dumb enough to go off-script when the answer’s right there? Serves her right.”

“Better for us if the dead weight drops early.”

Before I knew it, I’d been completely cut out of the group.

When it came time to pick rooms, they huddled together, snatching all the decent ones and leaving me with the smallest, dirtiest maid’s room.

“Not like it matters,” Pete said with a smirk, holding the door half-shut.

“You won’t live past tonight anyway. Might as well sleep anywhere.”

When the door clicked closed, silence swallowed the house.

Only the boss and I were left in the empty living room.

He hovered for a moment, about to drift away.