So the Legend Was True

The short figure's heart-wrenching cries finally jolted his boss out of his joy.

"A Red-Clad Specter?"

As the owner of a haunted house, he knew plenty of legends about Red-Clad Specters. Only those with the deepest resentment, who had suffered greatly before they died, had a chance of becoming one.

Whether or not it was true, that was what many movies and ghost stories claimed.

"A Red-Clad Specter has appeared in my haunted house? And he isn't even one of the actors I hired?" That was what had happened, but it was incredibly difficult to fully grasp. Some things could only be understood by experiencing them firsthand—and understanding just how desperate they were.

"Xiao Zhao, don't panic. I'll send people over right away! I don't care what that thing is. On my turf, it follows my rules. Whether it's a tiger or a dragon, it'll have to bow down to me..."

The short figure hung up on his boss. He didn't have time to listen to all that nonsense.

The short figure sprinted down the narrow, gloomy passage with all his might. For the first time, he realized just how frightening the haunted house where he worked could be.

The familiar surroundings had become strange. A thin veil of blood seemed to cover the props and mechanisms along the way. All the audio equipment seemed to be malfunctioning, crackling with static that seemed to carry anguished wails and whispers.

It was as though the backstage system was playing a recording secretly made at a murder scene. Despair and pain were spreading throughout the entire haunted house, tormenting everyone's ears and hammering at their hearts, leaving their minds constantly on the verge of collapse.

"What's going on? What the hell is happening? Why do I feel like this whole building has