The two minutes Professor Phoenix had given us vanished as if they had never existed.
Before us, the faintly pulsing blue ethereal beam—the entrance to Training Gate No. 23, "Lobby Elevator"—flickered with an unsettling rhythm.
"Fsssh…"
Its low hum brushed against the eardrums, sending a strange chill crawling across the skin.
Leo von Falkenhayn, our silent leader, took a deep breath and gave a firm nod.
No farewell words. No dramatic encouragement. Just a look that made it clear—talking was over.
He stepped forward into the shifting darkness of the gate.
Noor Akim followed quickly, her fiery orange hair like the only flame in this gloomy atmosphere. Her wide eyes scanned everything, curiosity tangled with tension.
Sam Owens slipped in after her quietly—like a shadow that refused to leave a trace.
I hesitated for a moment, that familiar weight settling in my stomach.
Another round, I muttered to myself, then stepped through the threshold, ready for whatever new absurdity this world decided to throw at me.
"Shhhh…!"
The moment my foot touched the ethereal light—
The world went black.
"Bam!"
The first thing that broke the suffocating silence was the sound of our footsteps landing on a cold marble floor covered in a thin layer of dust.
We found ourselves in a vast hotel lobby.
Very vast.
The ceiling stretched high above us, from which massive crystal chandeliers hung—most shattered or draped in thick cobwebs that shimmered strangely in the dim light filtering through tall, arched windows. Their glass was either filthy… or broken.
The once-luxurious velvet furniture—deep red and emerald green—had faded, torn apart, and buried under centuries of neglect.
Golden-patterned wallpaper peeled away in places, revealing damp, bare stone walls beneath.
The air reeked of decay… mixed with a faint, disturbingly sweet scent of old perfume and withered flowers.
"My God… this place… it's like something out of a classic horror movie," Noor whispered, her voice echoing oddly through the silence.
She clutched Sam's arm tightly.
He didn't react.
Leo had already begun scanning the area, his hand instinctively moving toward where a weapon should have been.
"Stay alert. This silence isn't natural."
As for me—
I had already started my own scan.
[The Narrative Architect Blueprint] slowly formed across my status display.
The familiar blue interface flickered with fragmented, incomplete data—more obscure than last time.
[Story Analysis Active: Lobby Elevator (E-Rank) – Basic Operation Protocols]
Central System: Multi-destination elevator. Destinations are non-standard and require specific activation conditions.
Activation Conditions (Unknown): May include input sequences, possession of specific items, particular actions, or environmental/time-based triggers within the horror construct.
Incorrect Activation Output: May lead to unstable or "punitive" destinations with sub-properties.
Primary Overseer Entity: "Watcher/Guardian" linked to the system.
Interaction Behavior: Depends on adherence to system "protocols" (currently unknown).
Protocol violation may trigger a hostile response.
Suggested Objective (Hypothetical): Explore system layers, identify the "core element" or "narrative flaw," and secure a stable exit route.
[Note: Insufficient data. Further analysis requires direct interaction.]
Unknown protocols? Layered narrative system?
Great.
Nothing would be handed to me this time. I'd have to figure out every ridiculous rule myself.
"The elevator," Leo said suddenly, cutting through my thoughts.
At the far end of the lobby stood a pair of double elevator doors—aged, polished brass, now dull with time.
They were engraved with intricate patterns—flowers and twisted faces that seemed to shift the longer you stared.
"Thump… thump… thump…"
We approached carefully, our footsteps the only sound in the oppressive silence.
The button panel beside the elevator was old-fashioned, also made of brass.
Buttons labeled 1 through 10.
"G" for ground floor—presumably where we stood.
"B" for basement.
"PH" for penthouse.
The buttons felt unnaturally cold, as if they were draining heat from our fingers.
"Any suggestions?" Leo asked, glancing between the panel and us.
Noor closed her eyes, focusing, her hands slightly raised.
"…No… I don't sense anything."
Leo nodded—he had expected that. Her ability had limited range, after all.
"We'll start from the top," he decided.
"The penthouse."
He pressed the "PH" button.
Click.
Nothing happened.
No light. No movement.
The doors remained still—staring back at us with silent indifference.
"…Hmph."
Leo frowned and pressed again—harder.
Click.
Nothing.
He tried 10. Then 9. Then 8.
Same result.
The elevator was inactive.
Or at least… that's how it appeared.
"Is… is it broken?" Noor asked nervously.
"I don't think 'broken' means what we think it does here," I said, recalling the system note about sequences and conditions.
"This elevator probably has its own rules. It won't take anyone anywhere unless…"
"…unless we give it the right offering… or play its twisted game."
I glanced at the strange engravings.
"The key to activating it… is probably hidden in this lobby."
I scanned the surroundings.
"We need to search. Look for clues—anything unusual."
"Clues? What kind of clues do you expect to find in this wreck?" Leo asked, frustration creeping into his tone.
"No idea," I replied calmly.
"But if you've got a better plan, feel free."
He didn't argue.
My logic made sense.
"Symbols. Patterns. Things out of place… anything that feels like part of a puzzle. Places like this love twisted riddles."
Leo gave me a strange look.
"This kind…? You sound like an expert in horror scenarios."
I ignored him.
If reading countless stories about this kind of madness counted as experience… then fine.
I walked away from them, telling everyone to search.
We spread out across the massive lobby.
Noor continuously used her Spatial Echo Resonance, tilting her head slightly as if listening to whispers no one else could hear.
"I feel a lot of… hollow spaces behind the walls," she murmured.
We ignored it—it didn't seem immediately useful.
Sam moved silently along the walls, inspecting shadows and torn furniture.
Wordless. Observant.
Leo and I focused near the elevator.
The engravings were disturbing—twisted faces and unnatural floral patterns.
I tried finding any pattern… but it all looked maddeningly random.
"Look at this!" Noor suddenly called out, her voice hushed but urgent.
She pointed at a large, old oil painting partially hidden behind a torn velvet curtain.
We gathered around it.
The painting depicted this very hotel—but in its prime.
Bright. Elegant. Full of well-dressed guests moving through the lobby.
It was dusty. Faded.
But something about it was… wrong.
"The hands… look at their hands," Leo said suddenly, narrowing his eyes.
I focused.
…Oh.
He was right.
Many of the guests were making strange gestures.
One held up three fingers.
Another pointed downward with two.
An elegant woman held a folding fan—partially open—revealing four folds.
A sequence…?
The idea formed instantly.
"Three… two… four…" I muttered.
"Does that mean something?"
"Maybe an input sequence," Leo said, interest flickering in his eyes.
We rushed back to the elevator.
"There's no direct input system… just buttons," he said.
"Let's try it," I said.
"Third floor. Then second. Then fourth."
Leo looked at me—then nodded.
"No harm in trying."
He pressed the buttons.
3… 2… 4.
For a moment—nothing.
Then—
"Click—CHK!!"
A muffled mechanical sound echoed from within.
The "G" button began blinking with a faint red light.
Then—
"Creeeak…"
The heavy brass doors slowly opened.
Revealing a dark, decaying elevator interior.
It worked.
But something felt… off.
Was this the right destination?
"Looks like your instinct paid off, Lister," Leo said.
"Sometimes I get lucky," I replied.
We stepped inside cautiously.
It was narrower than expected.
Dark wood walls, cracked and decaying.
No mirror.
Just another panel… and an old floor indicator needle stuck between G and 1.
"Where now?" Noor asked nervously.
"Is there an exit button?"
There wasn't.
"Guess we pick a floor," Leo said.
"Maybe there's another sequence."
Then—
"BAM!!"
The elevator violently shook.
The doors slammed shut.
Darkness swallowed us.
"What's happening?!" Noor screamed.
"FSSSHHH!!"
The elevator moved—
Not up.
Not down.
But sideways.
Grinding metal. Violent swaying.
Then—
Silence.
Dim, flickering light returned.
The indicator needle… hadn't moved.
"…Are we stuck?" Sam asked quietly—his first words.
Before I could activate my skill again—
"CREEEAK!!"
The doors opened.
But not to the hotel.
A long, narrow corridor stretched ahead.
The walls—
They looked like rotting gray flesh.
The ceiling sagged low, with pulsating vein-like structures hanging down.
The smell—
Rotten meat. Dried blood. Chemicals.
What the hell is this…?
My heart started pounding.
We went somewhere wrong.
"Don't—DON'T STEP OUT!" I shouted—
Too late.
Noor had already taken a step forward.
And without thinking—
We followed.
From the darkness ahead—
Something emerged.
Tall.
Unnaturally thin.
At least three meters. Maybe four.
Gray, stretched skin clinging to bone.
Every rib visible.
Long arms dragging down, ending in sharp, claw-like fingers.
No face.
Just two deep dark hollows where eyes should be.
And a wide, split mouth.
For the first time since entering this cursed world—
I felt something beyond fear.
Pure, primal terror.
This wasn't a trick.
Not a puzzle.
Not something clever.
This was a nightmare made real.
Damn it… DAMN IT!
Incorrect Activation Output: Unstable or punitive destination.
We got the sequence wrong.
"GrrrrrrRAAAAAA!!"
Its screech was like glass scraping against bone.
It lunged toward us—fast.
Too fast.
"BACK TO THE ELEVATOR! NOW!" Leo shouted, pushing Noor and Sam inside as he retreated slowly, eyes locked on the creature.
But I…
I was frozen.
Staring.
Unable to process it.
This wasn't a game anymore.
This was death walking toward us.
The 21st century did NOT prepare me for this!
I want to see my mom…!
"ADAM! MOVE, DAMN IT!" Leo's voice cut through my terror.
The creature raised its arm—
Claws aimed straight at me.
And somehow—
With one last burst of will—
I broke free.
I turned and ran for the elevator—heart pounding like it would explode out of my chest.
Damn it.