Chapter 4

Isabella's POV

My fingertip had just touched that particularly cold copper button, and before I could feel any further, something unexpected happened.

I hadn't expected this "male guest" to have such a temper.

Without any warning, there was a dull thud, and I was slammed directly against the wall.

Immediately after, a scorching hot, withered hand gripped my throat tightly.

The fingernails were practically digging into my flesh. That posture wasn't flirtatious—it looked murderous.

[Holy shit! He's making a move! Samuel's furious!]

[She crossed the line! Even God can't save her now!]

[That grip strength could twist her head right off! She's done for!]

The comments in my head were noisy as hell, but I had no time to pay attention.

Because... this was too exciting, too thrilling!

This is male guest number one?

With my -10.00 diopter nearsightedness, everyone I look at comes with a built-in beauty filter.

I couldn't see the rotting flesh falling off his face.

I could only make out that the dark figure before me had broad shoulders and a narrow waist, looming over me like a mountain.

My nose was filled with a choking burnt smell.

This was the legendary smoky woody scent. Wild enough, strong enough, pure masculine hormones.

Being choked by the throat, my consciousness was getting a bit hazy.

I never expected that after just teasing him a little, he’d suddenly pin me against the wall.

His hand around my neck—I actually thought he was about to kiss me!

What kind of dating show is this? This is clearly a "forced love" script! Are male guests nowadays all this bold?

Samuel's eyes, red as if blood would drip from them, stared at me intently. He was waiting for me to scream, waiting for me to wet myself in fear.

Unfortunately, I didn't dodge.

I actually went along with his force and tilted my head back. My neck fell more completely into his hand, like a cat waiting to be petted.

I raised my hand, but instead of pushing him away, I softly placed it over his charred hand. Then I tilted my face to nuzzle it affectionately.

In that instant, I clearly felt this fierce ghost freeze.

That murderous energy awkwardly hung in mid-air.

"Mr. Harris..."

I squinted, my voice hoarse and soft from lack of oxygen. "I know you're eager... but we're still live streaming."

My fingertip traced lazy circles on the back of his hand:

"Is this your greeting? So dominating, I like it. But... isn't playing this hard right off the bat a bit too fast?"

Samuel: "...???"

My attempt at "intimate contact" probably completely threw him off.

He roared angrily and suddenly thrust his face close, probably trying to scare me to death with that ghostly face.

But he used too much force, so something fell with a 'plop.'

It bounced off my collarbone and rolled smoothly into my palm.

The air suddenly became terrifyingly quiet.

[Ahhh! His eyeball fell out! I'm gonna puke!]

[She's still not dead?! Her SAN must be dropping like crazy!]

I looked down.

Oh, an eyeball.

I cupped the bloodshot, still-rotating eyeball in my hand, and not only didn't throw it away, but brought it closer to examine.

"Oh my," my tone was absolutely doting, "your contact lens slipped."

I blew on the eyeball in my palm, then blew on his pitch-black eye socket.

"Better now. It won't hurt anymore."

Then I stood on my tiptoes and carefully tucked the eyeball back into his socket, even thoughtfully adjusting the angle to focus it.

"Next time don't buy ones with such a large diameter. They make your eyes look bigger, but they fall out easily."

I smoothed out his still-bleeding collar. "But... this kind of broken, battle-damaged look really matches my taste perfectly."

As soon as I finished speaking, the scorching heat radiating from Samuel's body instantly went cold.

He was good at killing, professional at scaring people.

But having someone put his eyeball back and blow on it... this operation was a bit beyond his scope.

I shyly lowered my head. "Mr. Harris, your palms are all sweaty. What are you nervous about? Don't be scared, let me warm them up for you."

With that, I held his hand and pulled it toward my chest.

This was the ultimate push and pull between adults.

Sure enough, Samuel jerked his hand back as if electrocuted!

He staggered back two steps, knocking over a vase with a "crash." That charred face of his bizarrely showed a hint of red.

He let out a roar.

Others heard a fierce ghost claiming lives.

But to me, it was clearly the deep, attractive voice of an innocent boy embarrassed into anger.

The next second, this S-level BOSS turned into a cloud of black smoke and went straight through the wall—he ran away!

That's right, ran away.

The hallway was as silent as death.

Several players peeking through door cracks were utterly shocked. "Is she... is she molesting a fierce ghost??"

I calmly straightened my collar, looking at the wall with a smile.

"He actually got shy and ran away?"

I walked downstairs in my heels, like a peacock displaying its feathers.

After ten seconds of blank silence, the comments exploded with excitement:

[??????]

[What am I watching in this horror film? Domineering Ghost Falls for Me?]

[Why is Samuel running! Where's your dignity! Come back and kill her!]