The restaurant door creaked open, groaning like an old beast awakening from slumber. Aaron stepped in cautiously behind the others. The moment his foot crossed the threshold, the world around him twisted.
In an instant, he was alone.
Gone were the others—Eli, Sophie, Mark, Leah, Jace. Gone was the cold mist. Gone was the crumbling exterior of Soulfire Kitchen.
Instead, Aaron now stood in a grand, opulent hall that stretched wide in every direction. The polished marble floors gleamed under a massive diamond chandelier, its light glinting like hundreds of watching eyes. A red-carpeted staircase wound upward like a serpent, and the walls were adorned with gold-framed portraits of people who looked both elegant and… off. Their smiles too wide. Their eyes too hollow.
It was unmistakably a high-end restaurant, but one that felt frozen in time—flawless yet terrifying.
Before Aaron could even process the shift, a metallic, almost cheerful voice echoed around him:
"Hint: The restaurant will open in fifteen minutes. Please find a suitable uniform in the storage room."
A pause, then the same voice continued:
"(When working, please dress neatly. Otherwise, a sloppy server might affect the restaurant's reputation.)"
"Warning: Without absolute psychological resilience and sufficient strength, do not venture above the second floor of the restaurant."
"The guests there are difficult to serve. If you fail to serve them well, you might end up eating something other than the restaurant's food."
"Hint: The restaurant operates under the principle that the customer is king. However, you may encounter some unreasonable guests who damage the restaurant's reputation. Players can discipline them appropriately."
Discipline, Aaron repeated silently. Are they sure it's not a death wish?
His mind raced.
Ghosts. It has to be ghosts. Or worse.
He clenched his fists. In a horror game, fear was the bait—and hesitation was a death sentence.
"Fear equals waiting for death," Aaron muttered, repeating it like a mantra. "Being honest and completing the work properly is the only way to survive."
With no time to waste, he dashed through the hallways, searching for the storage room. The corridors were strangely pristine—polished floors, spotless surfaces, and the faint aroma of lavender lingering in the air. Almost… welcoming. Too welcoming.
Finally, he reached the back of the restaurant and found a nondescript wooden door labeled Storage in faded gold lettering.
He pushed it open.
A wave of thick, humid air struck him like a slap. The room smelled of rot and old chemicals, and the fluorescent lights overhead flickered weakly. Boxes were piled haphazardly, and shelves sagged under the weight of aged supplies. As he stepped inside, something crunched under his boot.
He looked down.
It was a bloody hairpiece. No—not just hair.
Aaron bent down slowly, lifting a wooden panel. Underneath, a tangle of long, matted hair glistened darkly, strands clinging to a strip of torn scalp still wet with congealed blood. He staggered back, hand over his mouth as his stomach churned.
Focus. You have fifteen minutes.
Suppressing his nausea, Aaron scoured the room and finally pulled out a server's uniform from a dusty locker. It was black and pressed, with silver embroidery on the collar—elegant and formal. But large, dark stains streaked across the fabric, and the sickly stench of decay clung to it like a second skin.
He grimaced. There was no other option.
Then something strange happened.
Around his neck, the pendant his parents gave him on his tenth birthday—the only thing he still had of them—began to glow.
Brightly.
A warm golden light pulsed outward, cutting through the gloom.
Aaron stared in shock as the pendant opened, its glass center revealing a flickering orb of light. The light shimmered, twisted… and then materialized into a small, humanoid figure hovering in the air before him. It stood barely the size of his palm, with silver-blue hair, glowing eyes, and a robotic halo circling its head.
"Initializing... Rule Breaker System online."
Aaron blinked. "What… the hell are you?"
The figure gave a crisp salute. "Hello, Host! I am R.B.S.—the Rule Breaker System—created by your parents, Dr. Evelyn and Dr. Thomas Vale, for your survival in high-risk simulated environments."
Aaron's jaw dropped. "My parents? You know them? Where are they?!"
"Unknown," the system replied smoothly. "Last recorded coordinates lost after Project NightmareGate activation. My purpose is to assist you in surviving and bending the rules of hostile game worlds. Congratulations, Host! You are now equipped with limited-authority override privileges."
Aaron stared, mind reeling. His parents... scientists? And they created this?
He had always known they were brilliant, but after they disappeared ten years ago on his birthday, he had assumed the worst.
Now he wasn't so sure.
"You're telling me this whole nightmare—this 'game'—is connected to them?"
The system blinked. "Affirmative. You have been targeted due to your genetic legacy. You are now a player in a high-stakes horror simulation. But with me, your odds of survival have increased by 73.4%."
Aaron exhaled slowly, trying to ground himself. A part of him was panicking—but another part was starting to feel something else.
Control.
"Alright, Rule Breaker," he muttered, tugging on the bloodstained uniform. "Let's play this game. But we're doing it my way."
The system floated to his shoulder, her eyes flickering with silent agreement.
Time left until opening: 10 minutes.
Aaron stared at the tiny AI floating in front of him, still trying to wrap his head around the revelation. His parents. Scientists. This horror game. And now… a system.
"Open the information panel," he said instinctively.
The system chirped with a soft hum. "Affirmative. Displaying player data."
A transparent, blue-tinged screen materialized in the air before Aaron, suspended like a hologram. It shimmered slightly, as if resisting the touch of this twisted world.
Player: Aaron
Strength: 20
Speed: 30
Spirit Power: 0
Ghost Contract: None
Skills: Destiny's Shield,Spectral Insight
Level: 1/10
"Huh?" Aaron blinked. The stats weren't impressive at a glance, but something about the Skills section caught his attention.
He tapped the word Skills, and two subpanels expanded beneath it.
---
Destiny's Shield
A divinely-bestowed or fate-woven ability that intercedes when the user violates established rules, laws, or oaths. Rather than suffering the normal consequences of their transgression, Destiny's Shield manifests a protective effect, diverting, mitigating, or outright negating the penalty.
(Provided by the Beginner's Gift Pack)
---
Spectral Insight
By focusing your gaze, you can speculate on ghostly intentions and analyze the use of ghost creatures.
(Provided by the Beginner's Gift Pack)
---
Aaron stared at the descriptions, a grin starting to tug at his lips.
"Are you serious?" he muttered. "These… these are broken."
Two abilities in a game world where following rules could mean life or death, and where ghosts could hide behind smiles and whispers? These weren't just helpful.
They were cheats.
He could almost hear the anime protagonist theme swelling in the background.
"Looks like this might be my Golden Finger," he muttered, the term slipping out from the many web novels he'd devoured late at night.
"Affirmative," the Rule Breaker System replied cheerfully. "System interface will update with new skills or contracts as the game progresses. You are currently the only player with access to this version of the panel."
Aaron's mind sharpened. If the others had panels, theirs were probably more basic. Tasks, stats, maybe a map. But nothing like this. Nothing that could bend the rules.
For once, the fear that had been gnawing at the back of his mind started to ease—just a little. Maybe he wasn't as helpless as he thought.
Maybe, he thought, I've got a shot.
Without wasting another second, he pulled the server's uniform over his clothes, grimacing at the sticky, damp texture and the suffocating stench. He ignored it. Survival didn't care about comfort.
There were still five minutes left before the restaurant opened.
And if this place operated on any kind of twisted schedule, he'd need every second.
He took one final breath, nodded to the floating AI beside him, and stepped out of the suffocating storage room.
The restaurant awaited.