Chapter 3

Isabella's POV

I turned around and walked confidently toward the door, pulling open the heavy wooden door with one swift motion.

Outside the door, in what should have been an empty hallway, stood an extremely tall, dark shadow.

He wore a tattered suit, surrounded by swirling black mist. His pale, bloodless hand was still suspended in mid-air, as if he'd been about to push the door open to hunt for food, only to run right into me.

An intense, suffocating smell of blood instantly engulfed me.

The live stream chat exploded:

[Holy shit!!! It's the number one BOSS!!!]

[She ran into him already?! Starting on nightmare mode?!]

[Fun fact! This is Samuel Harris! The original owner of Murder House No. 44! A ruthless killer in life, filled with vengeful energy in death—he's the most vicious, bloodthirsty ghost in this scenario!]

[She's done for! Samuel hates the scent of living people the most. Last time, a top-ten player got literally torn in half by him with his bare hands in this very hallway!]

[Isabella, run! That's Samuel! He's a cold-blooded killer!]

But I couldn't see any of this chaos.

Through my eyes—which couldn't make out anything beyond three feet—this tall gentleman before me had such an upright posture and broad shoulders.

I couldn't see his features clearly. But he gave off such a strong "domineering CEO" vibe...

This had to be the "S+ tier bachelor" I was supposed to win over!

What a coincidence!

The production team's timing was perfect! I'd just stepped out and already met my dream guy! This was fate!

I tilted my head back slightly. Though I couldn't see his face clearly, I could feel his eyes—glowing crimson red in the darkness—staring intently at me.

That look must mean he was stunned by my beauty, right?

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and curved my lips into a smile I'd practiced countless times—thirty percent aloof, seventy percent casually indifferent.

"Good evening."

I softened my voice, adding a hint of just-woken-up laziness, and directly extended tonight's first invitation to this ruthless killer named Samuel:

"What a coincidence? You live on this floor too?"

Under the horrified gaze of millions of viewers, I reached out my finger and, with extreme boldness, lightly tapped the collar of his blood-soaked suit. Then I slid my finger down along the cold buttons.

I asked, "Have you been standing at my door this whole time... waiting for me?"