“Maybe this is the easiest SSS-level dungeon ever?” someone joked.

I was the only one who stayed quiet, staring up at the sky.

More glowing messages flashed across the air, the chat exploding in laughter.

[Ugh, another bunch wishing to ‘die of old age’? How boring.]

[How many times is this now? Every group that enters picks the same thing. Self-righteous idiots.]

[They’ll find out soon enough why ‘Wish’ is ranked SSS.]

By then, the boss had silently appeared right in front of me.

“You’re the last one,” he said, voice low and cold.

“So… how do you wish to die?”

Well, shit. Guess this is really the end for me.

Before I got dragged into this horror game, I was the heroine of an erotica—waking up every morning in bed tangled up with handsome men. Totally useless at everything else.

Expecting me to come up with some clever survival plan?

Not happening.

I gave up instantly.

If I was destined to die here, I might as well go out fulfilling my greatest wish—

to turn this bleak world into one giant pleasure heaven.

Doesn’t matter if it’s hot or cold—I’ll make it steamy.

And honestly, even with his face hidden behind that swirling black mist, the boss’s broad shoulders, narrow waist, and deep, magnetic voice were dead giveaways. The guy was built.

Lust makes cowards bold.

So without thinking, I said, “I’ll take shortness of breath, trembling legs, glazed eyes, and… pleasure so intense I die from it.”

The boss: “???”

I added helpfully, “Oh, and you’re the one doing it.”

He froze, like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. The black mist around him stopped moving, the air went still.

For a long moment, he just stood there—then slowly took a step back.

I waited for a while, puzzled.

But the boss never said his usual line—no “As you wish.”

Instead, the system’s mechanical voice rang out:

[Preliminary task: “Make a Wish” — completed.]

[Please follow the Boss into the mansion.]

[Main quest: Survive inside the mansion for three days.]

[During these three days, random side quests will appear.]

[Each completed quest grants one new wish.]

[Only the player who makes the correct wish will live to the end.]

By the time we reached the mansion, night had already fallen.

The moment I stepped into the living room, I froze.

Every inch of the wall was lined with framed photos—memorial portraits.

And every photo showed one of us.

Beneath each picture was a handwritten note, listing the person’s wish:

[Die peacefully of old age, no sickness, no pain.]

All except mine.

The words under my photo had been blacked out with thick marker.

Everyone’s gaze instantly fell on me.

The middle-aged man, Pete, was the first to speak.

“Now that I think about it,” he said, narrowing his eyes,

“You didn’t make the same wish as the rest of us, did you? You were hiding off in the corner. So, little miss, what kind of death did you choose?”

Before I could answer, the boss suddenly spoke.

“Players are forbidden to ask about others’ wishes.”

For some reason, his tone sounded… tense.

Seeing that, the others backed off, but their expressions turned smug.

“Look at that—her wish got blacked out. Classic death flag,” one sneered.

“She’s done for tonight.”

“Who’s dumb enough to go off-script when the answer’s right there? Serves her right.”

“Better for us if the dead weight drops early.”

Before I knew it, I’d been completely cut out of the group.

When it came time to pick rooms, they huddled together, snatching all the decent ones and leaving me with the smallest, dirtiest maid’s room.

“Not like it matters,” Pete said with a smirk, holding the door half-shut.

“You won’t live past tonight anyway. Might as well sleep anywhere.”

When the door clicked closed, silence swallowed the house.

Only the boss and I were left in the empty living room.

He hovered for a moment, about to drift away.

“Wait!” I called out quickly.

“I’m not sleeping in the maid’s room!”

I hurried after him, plastering on my best grin.

“You’ve got your own room in this mansion, right? How about we share a bed?”

The boss said nothing. He just floated faster, like he couldn’t get away soon enough.

I rushed after him.

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to grant my wish? You know… shortness of breath, trembling legs, glazed eyes, and… pleasure so intense I die from it.””

“I never agreed to that,” he said flatly, cutting me off.

I frowned. “What the hell? Isn’t this dungeon called ‘Wish’? Weren’t you the one who said you’d grant every player’s wish? Why are you treating me differently? That’s discrimination! I’m filing a complaint with headquarters!”

He stared at me in silence for a long moment, clearly speechless.

Finally, in a resigned tone, he said, “…Fine. Come with me.”

After a maze of turns, he brought me into a luxurious bedroom.

The second I saw the king-sized bed in the center, I threw myself onto it with a dramatic sigh.

“So soft… finally,” I groaned, stretching lazily before crossing my legs.

“My legs hurt. Massage them for me.”

He glanced at me once, utterly expressionless, and said nothing.

I wasn’t giving up that easily.

“By the way, what’s your name? I can’t just keep calling you Boss forever.”

He dodged the question immediately.

“It has nothing to do with you. You’re a player. Focus on clearing the dungeon.”

I smiled sweetly.

“Then what should I call you? Baby? Honey? Hubby? Master? Daddy?”

As my tone grew more and more outrageous, he finally snapped.

“Luther Horden,” he blurted. “My name is Luther Horden.”

For some reason, even though his voice was perfectly calm, I could hear the gritted teeth behind it.

“Well then—” I started again, lips curling into a teasing smile.

“Enough,” he interrupted quickly. “Go to sleep.”

With a flick of his wrist, a swirl of black mist swept toward me.

Before I could even react, everything went dark—like someone had flipped my power switch.

I was woken by a scream the next morning.

When I opened my eyes, Luther was gone from the room. I hurried to wash up and rushed down to the living room and froze.

There, on the floor, lay a stranger’s body. The corpse looked ridiculously old. White hair, beard, a face carved with wrinkles—easily seventy, maybe eighty. For some reason, it also looked familiar.

I scanned the room. Everyone had gathered except Pete. Their faces were stone-still.

A woman with red-dyed hair, maybe in her thirties, looked around and said slowly, “I checked just now. That body on the floor… That’s Pete.”

“No way,” someone shouted back. “Pete’s only in his forties. That corpse looks ancient. The ages don’t match.”

The woman sighed. “Do you remember what wish we all made yesterday? ‘No sickness, no pain, die peacefully of old age.’ Pete’s death… that matches the wish. We seriously underestimated this dungeon. Thought we could get clever and skate by. An SSS-level run isn’t a joke.”

Messages scrolled across the air like a live chat again.

[LMAO, my favorite part—seeing cocky players crash and burn. Serves ’em right.]

[Wait, didn’t everyone wish to die of old age? What did the girl in the corner wish for? I blacked out halfway through yesterday—didn’t see the rest. Can someone give a recap?]

[Black screen too!]

[ME too!!]

[Same here!]

…

[Why are so many people getting black screens? I thought it was just my connection.]

[Maybe she made the one correct wish, so they censored the feed? OMG. Is someone actually going to clear an SSS-level dungeon???]

[You people jump to the wildest conclusions. I looked into her—total newbie. And that fragile little thing? I could slap her flat. Expecting her to beat a top-tier dungeon is hilarious.]

A young woman burst into tears.

“What do we do now? We made the same wish as Pete. That means we’re all going to die too!”

The room went dead silent. Everyone clearly had the same thought and none of their faces looked good.

The red-haired woman lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and exhaled slowly.

“Not necessarily,” she said. “Remember what the system said? During these three days, it’ll issue random side quests. Each time we complete one, we get to make another wish. As long as someone figures out the right one, they’ll live. We still have a chance.”

Her calm tone worked like a shot of adrenaline for the group.

“I’m Cheryl,” she went on. “Before I ended up in this game, I was an executive at a multinational company. I know how to make decisions and handle pressure. If you trust me, I can lead us to victory.”

When people are terrified, they’ll always look for someone to rely on.

With her confidence and authority, Cheryl naturally became the group’s anchor.

After claiming leadership, she gave a few motivational lines—standard pep-talk stuff.

Then, the system’s cold voice echoed through the air again:

[Side Quest: “The Boss’s Banquet” has been issued.]

[All players are invited to join the feast!]

[Quest time: Tonight, 8:00 PM.]

[Participants: All surviving players.]

[Hint: The banquet offers a wide variety of dishes. Each player must choose one dish to present to the Boss.]

[Hint: No dish can be chosen twice.]

[Hint: The player who offers the Boss’s favorite dish will earn His favor and receive another wish.]

[Hint: The player who offers His least favorite dish… dies.]

Cheryl’s lips curved into a confident smile.

“Well,” she said, “looks like our chance just showed up.”

There were still more than half a day left before the banquet.

Under Cheryl’s direction, everyone split up to explore the mansion, hoping to uncover clues about the Boss’s preferences.

An hour before dinner, the group gathered in the living room to share what they’d found.

Cheryl spoke first.

“I found tonight’s menu in the kitchen. There are six dishes total, one for each of us.”

She unfolded the paper and read aloud,

“Baked escargot, Caesar salad, grilled lamb chops, seared cod, creamy vegetable stew, and fruit cake. Any of these ring a bell?”

A tall, thin guy raised his hand immediately.

“I found a notebook in the maid’s room,” he said. “It mentioned something like, ‘The young master only eats vegetables and barely touches meat. His diet’s a mess.’ I’m guessing that ‘young master’ refers to the Boss.”

A girl’s eyes lit up.

“I saw the fridge, it’s full of milk and dairy stuff. So the Boss must really like creamy food. Milk and vegetables… that has to be the creamy stew!”

Everyone’s faces brightened. The discovery seemed almost too easy, and for the first time, hope flickered.

Cheryl tapped her long, polished nails lightly on the table.

“Good work, everyone. We’ve figured out what the Boss likes. Now the question is… Who should be the one to offer the dish?”

The system had made it clear: no dish could be chosen twice. Which meant only one person could win the Boss’s favor.

Cheryl cleared her throat delicately.

“I actually think I’ve already guessed the correct wish. If things go well, I might be able to get us all out of this dungeon alive. So, if you trust me, I’ll be the one to present the creamy stew.”

The group exchanged uncertain glances. After a long hesitation, they eventually nodded in agreement.

Then the girl who had first guessed the dish spoke up in a small voice…