Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended

CHAPTER 161: From Hope to Despair

CREAKKK~

A door slowly opened, the dim light from within spilling into the shadowy depths of a basement. At the top of the stairs, a small silhouette stood motionless, the faint outline of a figure consumed by uncertainty.

The oppressive darkness below seemed to breathe as if it were alive, exuding a chilling aura of foreboding and emptiness that gnawed at the edges of courage. Yet, despite the overwhelming sense of dread, an inexplicable pull drew the figure forward.

Step by hesitant step, the figure descended, the wooden stairs groaning softly beneath their weight. The faint light from above waned with each descent, leaving them increasingly engulfed in the void. From the foot of the staircase, a lone door could be seen tucked away in the cluttered chaos of the room.

The magic circle etched in its surface seemed to hum with silent intent. It beckoned them closer, its mysteries veiled in an aura of quiet menace. And yet, tentatively, as their eyes adjusted to the blackness, a small hand reached for the doorknob.

CLICKK.

Behind the door felt like a sudden transition from night to day, and the small figure garbed in a cloak felt her eyes widen in astonishment. Before her laid a room of pristine sterility, its immaculate interior a testament to painstaking care. Sparse furnishings stood in orderly precision, each surface devoid of the slightest imperfection. In the center of the room, a bed rested within the glow of a large magic circle, its faintly shimmering symbols radiating a certain tranquility that permeated the atmosphere. The air was utterly pure—untouched by dust or bacteria—and infused with mana so clean it felt almost alive.

On the bed lay a young girl, her fragile form resting as if untouched by the weight of the world. The enchantment from the magic circle that enveloped her emanated a soft hum, inducing a deep and unbroken sleep. Yet, despite the tranquil façade, subtle signs betrayed the truth: her pale complexion, the faint twitch of her brow, the faintest furrow of pain that no spell could entirely erase. The magic circle worked tirelessly, cradling her delicate body, soothing her agony, and maintaining an environment so flawlessly sterile that the smallest infection—harmless to most—would spell her undoing.

In an attempt to calm the rapid thrum of her heartbeat, the girl's trembling fingers brushed against the orange scarf snugly wrapped around her neck. She inhaled deeply, the soft fabric offering a fleeting sense of comfort.

Yet, her gaze betrayed her unease as it wandered across the sterile room. It was clear that the girl on the bed was being kept here under strict care, likely for her own safety. But then, why were her wrists and ankles restrained to the bed? Was she perhaps being kept here against her will—a silent prisoner within a pristine cage? Or worse, a helpless guinea pig in some sick experiment?

Sympathizing with the girl's plight, the cloaked stranger knelt by her side, the soft glow of her power pooling gently in her hand. Carefully, she channeled it into the girl's fragile body, watching with a small smile as faint color returned to her pale cheeks. The stranger's movements were hurried but deliberate as she began to undo the ropes binding the girl's wrists and ankles. Each knot loosened was a step closer to freedom.

But before she could finish, a sudden wave of hostility washed over her, thick and suffocating. Her instincts flared, and she froze, the sharp edge of malice cutting through the room like a blade. Slowly, she lifted her gaze, her heart sinking at the sight before her.

Emerging from the stairway and into the room, cloaked in shadows that seemed alive, stood a man and a woman. Their presence was oppressive, their figures outlined with unyielding rage. Their faces were twisted with wrath, their expressions hard enough to shatter steel.