My Mom is in My Horror Game (Again）

After accidentally getting sucked into a horror game, I became its most infamous boss.

My colleagues whispered behind my back that I was a wimp who ruined the reputation of boss-kind.

I could only offer a bitter smile.

They didn't understand.

It wasn't weakness but family privilege.

Who could have guessed that the players entering my dungeon would either be my mom or my grandma?!

...

It was time for the monthly Horror Game Boss Summit.

Once again, I unsurprisingly took last place.

There's no reason why. Players in my dungeon not only escaped completely unharmed, they often left with smiles on their faces.

How was I supposed to collect any Terror Points like that?!

The Grand Boss sat at the head of the table, tapping a finger on my annual report.

"Explain yourself. Why? Didn't I teach you the tricks?"

I nodded glumly.

Yes, yes. The tricks: rip your own head off upon meeting them for a 'warm welcome'!

Casually detach an arm or a leg later to serve as their dinner!

Or hang silently above their bed in the dead of night, savoring their terrified screams!

I knew the tricks.

But... I just couldn't do it!

After the meeting, this month's "Top Performer" deliberately bumped into me, knocking me down.

His face, like everyone else's, was full of scorn.

"Disgraceful! Actually cooking players breakfast? Pah! You're a wimp!"

I crouched on the floor, forcing a bitter smile.

It wasn't me being a wimp!

It was the mysterious power of family ties!

...

When I first became a Horror Game Boss, I entered my assigned dungeon full of anticipation.

A flash of golden light, a middle-aged woman wielding a meat cleaver appeared in the gothic castle.

At that moment, I was hanging upside-down from the ceiling, ready to give her the first scare.

When our eyes met, my smile froze.

"Mom?!"

"Yaaaaay!!!" It was my mom! Eleanor Chambersdefinitely didn't recognize that was me, sliced me in the face!

Her shriek drowned mine outnot from fear, but delight!

She yanked me down, grabbed me by the collar, and started dragging me upstairs.

"Is there anything else? Anything else? I love this kind of jump scare the most!"

I touched the scar on my face and let out a sigh of relief.

Good news: Mom didn't recognize me.

Bad news: I couldn't possibly terrorize my own mom!

Was I out of my mind?!

When Mom finished dragging me around the entire castle without finding any "surprise," she finally got tired and let me go.

"Sweetie, what kind of place is this? Why are you the only... person here?"

I forced a bitter smile.

Back then, I'd begged the Grand Boss forever before he agreed to let me work solo.

Not everyone got that privilege.

Now, all I wanted to say was: someone else can have that "privilege"!

But the dungeon had already started. The exit wouldn't unlock until seven days later, and only if the players found the key.

So for seven days, I was stuck with my mom, who was already in full vacation mode.

I scrambled up, putting on a perfectly practiced smilea reflex my childhood when I got countless scoldings for "improper etiquette."

I bowed deeply.

"You're in luck, ma'am! This is our game's hidden bonus: a seven-day castle getaway! You can go anywhere and do anything! Your happiness is our top priority!"

I showed her the castle's hidden amenities: the gym, the home theater, even the pool...

All of which used to be my private spaces!

Now...

I bowed again. "How may I assist you right now, ma'am?"

MomEleanor Chamberspicked up her meat cleaver.

"Is that all? How dull. I'll go cook then. Where's the kitchen?"

Cold sweat beaded on my forehead as I trudged toward the kitchen.

Not for any other reason...

Mom was a notorious kitchen disaster.

Eleanor Chambers might sound elegant and look every bit the delicate lady to outsiders.

But in reality, she devoured horror movies, possessed frightening martial arts skills, and her greatest regret was never conquering the culinary world.

So she fought harder, often brewing me "love tonic soups."

Though... they were inedible.

I never thought I'd have to face this nightmare again, even after dying.

After leading her to the kitchen, I shut the door and bolted.

Under the bed?

Nothat's where I hid the murder traps.

The bedroom?

No way. Mom could kick down that flimsy wooden door in one strike.

The bathroom?

Nope. Too smelly to stay long.

Pacing in the living room, I was so anxious I felt my hair falling out.

Mom finally emerged from the kitchen, smiling, carrying a steaming pot.

"Sweetie, come have some! I made a whole pot!"

I waved my hands, backing away slowly. "N-no thanks?"

Mom didn't push, just set two bowls and spoons on the table.

"My soup is delicious. My daughter used to gulp down bowls of it. But... it's been so long since anyone shared a meal with me..."

My throat tightened unexpectedly.

I didn't remember how I died, but imagining Mom's loneliness broke my heart.

I finally sat down.

The first sip made my tears vanish instantly.

She'd probably dumped the entire salt shaker in again.

I choked down two bowls with a straight face, then chugged a gallon of water.

Mom watched me worriedly. "Slow down! My daughter used to do that too, and then... she died young!"

I spat out my water, feeling a stab in my heart.

At least dead people can't die twice.

For the next few days, I played the dutiful servant, touring Mom around the castle.

Midway, she waved her cleaver, insisting on teaching me to cook.

I sheepishly admitted I already knew how.

Yepyears of her "lessons" had trained me well.

Then she offered martial arts lessons, demonstrating a fierce fist sequence.

I wanted to say, "No needI can detach limbs anytime now."

But she insisted.

Five. Whole. Days!

I couldn't even sleep in as a horror boss!

On the final day, my smile was genuinely radiant.

"Ma'am, your seven-day getaway is ending! Please leave us a five-star review when you exit!"

More reviews meant more customers.

My monthly quota depended on it!

I grinned ear-to-ear.

Mom had enjoyed herself too, reluctant to leave.

"You remind me so much of my baby girl. She was just as thoughtful as you!"

Holding back the strangeness in my heart, I murmured, You remind me of my mom, too

I whispered it too softly, letting the words drift away in the wind, unsure if she heard.

...

After seeing off my first player, I pulled out my secret stash.

I redecorated the castlegone was the cozy vibe, replaced with something dark and bloody!

I hid every kitchen ingredient, terrified another bad cook might find them.

I even advanced my salary to set up more traps.

I was sure the next player would piss his pants!

I hid in a corner, hands on hips, laughing to the sky.

Then the next player appeared.

I instantly ripped off my arm and hurled it toward the entrance... but no scream came.

I peeked out.

!!

The little old lady standing downstairs was none other than my grandma!

Worsemy thrown arm had knocked her glasses to the floor, shattering them.

Now she was standing there, confused.

"Hello? Anyone there? Can someone help me find my glasses?"

I pitched my voice higher, avoiding the question.

"Welcome to the C-level dungeon Haunted Castle.' Your mission: survive seven days and find the key"

Before I finished, Grandma fumbled forward and grabbed my arm.

"Sweetie, have you seen my glasses?"

Guiltily, I kicked the shards under a rug. No way I was giving her thosewhat if she had a heart attack?

"Nope, haven't seen a thing."

Grandma sighed. "Oh dear, my granddaughter gave me those. Where could they be?"

But she perked up quickly.

"Sweetie, is it just you here?"

No, I wanted to say. Just you.

Grandma didn't wait for an answer. "Could you show me to my room?"

I agreed.

Outwardly calm, my feet were working overtime.

I cursed myself for overloading the hallway with traps, kicking them aside as we walked.

At the bedroom door, I snatched a decapitated head off the wall and tossed it away before ushering Grandma in.

I sighed in reliefuntil she plopped onto the bed, triggering the tentacle trap.

Invisible to her, grotesque black tentacles slithered from the headboard toward her neck and limbs.

!!

I floated over just as Grandma scratched her neck, grabbed a tentacle, and yanked it clean off.

Same with the ones on her wrists and ankles.

"What in tarnation? Why's there such thick yarn here?"

She paused thoughtfully, then pulled knitting needles from her pocket and expertly wound the black "yarn" around them.

Click-clack. Her fading eyesight didn't slow her down.

I gaped.

Seriously? This overpriced trap was that flimsy?

One-star review!

I floated back silently.

Seven days passed.

Besides cooking Grandma three meals a day plus "nutritious" soups, I had to relocate all castle tentacle traps to her bedside.

Endless "yarn" for her knitting.

On day seven, Grandma left, chuckling.

Before going, she handed me a black sweater.

I tried it onperfect fit!

I bit my lip and handed her the repaired glasses.

She put them on, beaming at me.

"You're such a pretty girl. Thanks for the hospitality, dear! Bye!"

I smiled bitterly, touching my scarred face.

Grandma always knew how to sweet-talk.

My face was a roadmap of knife scarsso hideous I never worried about her or Mom recognizing me.

...

After that, I "met" Dad and Grandpa in the dungeon too.

No way was I pulling any scary stunts on them.

So I collected zero Terror Points. Worse, other bosses caught me serving players "love breakfasts," "love lunches," "love dinners"...

Every exiting player left grinning.

I...

I just prayed next month would bring fewer familiar faces.

After the last summit, colleagues closed their own dungeons just to gawk at mine.

They even upgraded my solo dungeon to a multiplayer one.

Three players at once!

I raised an eyebrow. Fine. Let them all guest-star.

I assigned roles, demanding they showcase their most grotesque forms to boost my dungeon's rep.

Eager to see me fail, they agreed.

Finally, dungeon day arrived.

I hung upside-down from the ceiling again, ready.

I was betting everything!

This time, no old acquaintances!

...

I was wrong. Dead wrong.

Golden light flashed. Players appeared.

Eyes shut, I launched into my "disassembly-reassembly" routine: detach legs, reattach; detach arms, reattach; finally, pop off the head.

Gore galore! Plus colleagues splashing fake blood everywhere!

Maximum terror achieved!

But no scream came.

A familiar voice rang in my ear.