Surviving as a Crazy Evil Spirit in a Horror Game Chapter 5

Lilith, without putting up any resistance, calmly closed her eyes.

 

Slash—!

 

Basileon killed Lilith—the last remaining survivor. Our purpose, our reason for existence, had finally been fulfilled. And yet, for some reason, Basileon looked utterly, heartbreakingly sad.

 

*   *   *

 

That was what had happened in the previous game—when I’d helped Basileon kill every last survivor. Just thinking about it left a bitter taste in my mouth. So I drifted aimlessly through the air, alone and restless. 

 

Outside, the survivors were busy gathering the items they needed to stay alive, so to avoid running into them, I slipped back into the duke’s mansion.

 

“…Basileon.”

 

When I recalled the way Basileon had cried, I couldn’t help but think of him—probably fast asleep right now. Normally, he was cold and terrifying to the bone… yet sometimes, he was a murderer who shed tears.

    

‘Should I go take a look at him?’

 

They say he never wakes during the day… I couldn’t help but be curious. So I drifted toward the room where Basileon slept.

 

‘He’s not going to wake up, is he?’

 

In survival mode, it was officially established that the killer slept during the day. So there was no real need to worry about him waking up—yet I was still scared.

 

Srrrk—

 

As I slipped through the door and entered the spacious room, I saw Basileon lying on his bed. It was a gothic-style bedroom, with dark wooden furniture and heavy drapes drawn over the windows. There he was—Basileon—resting beneath the covers. As I moved closer, I found him utterly defenseless in his sleep.

 

‘He’s really fast asleep…’

 

‘No way… he won’t wake up, right?’

 

“Hmm… um…”

 

Basileon tossed and turned. Occasionally, he opened his mouth to mutter something incomprehensible, it seemed he was talking in his sleep.

 

Rustle—

 

The strands of hair that had partially covered his face slowly slipped down, revealing Basileon’s full features. His sharp, cold eyes, pale skin, and dark, defined brows stood out clearly.

 

His elegant, rose-tinted lips were vivid, like something painted. The strong lines of his face, though bold, blended in harmony—beautiful and irresistibly captivating.

 

“Hmm…”

 

Sleeping, Basileon furrowed his brows slightly. Despite the cold impression he usually gave, his slumbering face was serene—almost gentle.

 

“Evien?”

 

This time, Basileon called my name clearly. Was he dreaming about me? The thought of someone searching for me in their dreams made me feel strangely embarrassed. Somehow… it felt like I shouldn’t stay here any longer.

 

‘…I have to go.’

 

Just as I was about to fly back up and pass through the door,

 

“Don’t go. …Don’t go, Eve.”

 

A heartrending voice, as if calling out for someone dear, reached my ears. Before I knew it, I was flying over the bed again. It was just sleep-talking, yet why was I drawn back toward Basileon? 

 

“…Mhm?” 

 

When I returned to the bed, Basileon was crying. A single tear clung to the center of his cheek. This was already the third time I’d seen the so-called bloodless, tearless killer shed tears.

 

‘He’s surprisingly a crybaby.’

 

“Please…”

 

While I was watching, Basileon thrashed about in his nightmare. After staying in the room for quite some time, I realized something: he often has nightmares, and during them, he cannot wake up.

 

The Duke of Ravenwood is cursed to commit murder for all eternity. Another curse causes him to fall into a shallow sleep at sunrise, from which he cannot awaken.

 

This is a setting I’d read about in the game. According to it, no matter what happens, Basileon cannot awaken while the sun is up—he must remain asleep. It’s like a Sleeping Beauty scenario.

 

‘He’s cursed to commit murder, trapped in a game that repeats endlessly. On top of that, he can never see the sun.’

 

For a moment, Basileon felt somewhat pitiable. 

 

‘They say people get depressed if they never see the sun…’

 

“…Ugh.”

 

Suddenly, Basileon tossed and turned in apparent pain. It looked as if he were being struck by someone in his dream—he seemed to hurt terribly. Bad memories surfaced, and my face automatically creased in response. Fearing I might get lost in those emotions while watching him, I stepped out of the bedroom entirely. After all, Basileon could not wake from his sleep. There was nothing I could do to help.

 

‘…Here we go again.’

 

The moment I stepped out of Basileon’s room, memories from the past slowly began to creep into my mind.

 

*   *   *

 

“An X without XX. XXX. What are you glaring at?”

 

I was bullied during my school days. At the same time, I was a target of verbal abuse. The kids who tormented me never laid a hand on me—they didn’t want any evidence left behind. Instead, they inflicted mental blows, which weren’t easily visible on the surface.

 

No one noticed even as my insides rotted and festered away. Like it is for most kids, there was no real reason I became a target. So I kept decaying inside. One day, after teetering on the edge of wanting to die and forcing myself to endure it, I finally went to the hospital.

 

I took my medication, got treatment, and kept living—stubbornly, day after day—and before I knew it, I started thinking, why should I be the one to die? Then, strangely enough, I began to pity them. How miserable must their own lives be if tormenting someone else is the only thing that brings them joy?

 

“XXX. Filthy little beggar. Disgusting XXX.”

 

“Aren’t you talking to yourself?”

 

I once tried to retort.

 

“…Are you crazy?”

 

And what came back at me were nothing but dumbfounded reactions and vacant stares. Seeing that made the school—this entire classroom—feel so utterly insignificant. Why had I let myself be pushed around by people like that? By such pathetic idiots?

 

“You. Everything you say—it’s all just a self‑introduction, isn’t it?”

 

“Seriously.” 

 

“How boring must your life be to laugh at something like that? I actually feel sorry for you.”

 

For the first time in my life, I got beaten to a pulp. It hurt—a lot. But somehow, it felt… liberating. You might be wondering, what’s with this sudden melodramatic flashback? Well, seeing Basileon in pain must’ve triggered something inside me.

 

When I see someone else in pain, I feel it too. Humans can’t ever truly understand another person. We can empathize, sure—but we can never completely know how someone feels. And that’s only natural. We’re not the ones actually living it.

 

But that made me unbearably sad—the fact that the only person who could truly understand my sorrow was me. Basileon was the same. He looked sorrowful, yes, but I couldn’t fully grasp that emotion of his, and that made it all the more pitiful. Maybe that’s why I got carried away, why I projected my feelings onto him. Even though Basileon was just a character in a game, bound to play out a role already written for him.

 

“Ey.” 

 

I kept sulking, shaking off the bad memories.

 

“It’s lonely.”

 

The survivors were afraid of me, an evil spirit, and Basileon was having nightmares. And even the other ghosts in the castle weren’t exactly… friendly toward me. 

 

Clank—clank.

 

Feeling a little sentimental, I drifted through the castle, until I saw the Ghost Knights marching.

 

“Hello!”

 

Clank—.

 

The Ghost Knights greeted me politely.

 

“Good morning, Lady Evien. It’s been a long time since we’ve had such a refreshing morning.”

 

“Mhm? Long time no see?” 

 

“Until now, it’s only been night over and over again, hasn’t it?”

 

The knight commander looked at me with a puzzled expression. I wondered—do these characters in the game know that they’re living the same lives over and over again? All except the survivors, that is.

 

“Ah… that’s right. That’s right.”

 

“Evien, you should also enjoy the rising sun! We’re heading out for outdoor training too, since it’s been so long.”

 

With that, the ghostly knights vanished from my sight in an instant. Everyone seemed friendly, but in reality, there was an invisible boundary. The conversations I had with them were nothing more—or less—than small talk. You could call it socializing: like laughing politely at your boss’s corny jokes, that kind of feeling. 

 

Of course, I’m the boss in this scenario, and the other ghosts are my subordinates. Anyway, I do want to get closer to them—but it’s really hard. There’s no one I can truly talk to…Even though I’m an evil spirit now, I can definitely feel the weight of loneliness.

 

‘All humans hate me!’

 

Feeling gloomy, I spent the day flying around and exploring different parts of the ducal castle.

 

*   *   *

 

Basileon’s bedroom. After the sun had fully set, moonlight seeped through the curtains.It seemed as if Basileon sensed the moonlight, for he naturally awoke from his sleep.

 

“….”

 

He clutched his throbbing forehead and recalled a faint sensation from when he’d been asleep.

 

‘Someone came into my room.’

 

Someone had been here. And the feeling they left behind was familiar—soft, and warm. If not for the nightmare that returned at the same hour every time, he might have been able to focus on that comforting sensation.

 

“It definitely wasn’t human. It didn’t smell like one.”

 

Basileon closed his eyes and tried to recall the sensation he’d unconsciously felt.

 

“Warm and familiar…”

 

Even in his unconsciousness, his keen senses remained alive.

 

“Evien.”