That was a fateful night, as sticky and exhausting as countless late nights swallowed up by overtime. Jiang Lin rubbed his dry eyes. The cold light of the computer screen was the only source of light in his world. Then, the screen of his mobile phone lit up, and a text message without an address jumped out: "Welcome to the Ghost Story Dungeon. There is only one rule - survive to the end." Who did he think was a prank? Or maybe he was finally forced out of the hallucination by work, until the next second, the fluorescent tubes in the office began to flicker at a strange frequency, dark red water stains that seemed to be alive oozed from the walls, and the streets outside the window that should have been bustling with traffic fell into an absolute, all-devouring darkness. That's not a blackout, that's "it" coming.
Later, people learned that the world was quietly covered with a layer of "copy". There are no signs, no choices, only the fate of being randomly "invited". It is not as simple as ghosts running rampant, but an invasion of rules and a cancerous growth of logic. The real space will fold and twist without warning, generating closed scenes that follow specific "rules" - it may be a silent hospital corridor at midnight, it may be a death bus that circulates, or it may be a mansion that looks cozy but is actually murderous at every step. These copies are like cells that have fallen off after disease in the real world. The internal laws of time, space, and physics are all subject to a set of secret and absurd "scripts." The participants, called "players", have the only common goal: to leave alive.
