Rules-based horror.
As a once-popular genre in Chinese online literature—a hybrid of mystery and supernatural horror—Takakai was intimately familiar with it.
From the viral Zoo Rules to its successors like Daluo Mountain, Secondary School, and Espedro City, these works built terror through seemingly mundane regulations that gradually twisted into something horrifying. Takakai had once been fascinated by them.
But precisely because he understood the genre, he never wanted to end up in one.
This is a nightmare! A death sentence! What did I do to deserve this?!
In rules-based horror, psychological torment and cognitive dissonance were just the tip of the iceberg. Reality-bending phenomena like spatial distortions, parallel worlds, and time loops were commonplace. The "final boss" was often some incomprehensible Lovecraftian entity.
And Takakai? He was no legendary investigator—just a failed web novelist! Why was he being subjected to this?!
Would it be better to just kill myself and reincarnate again?
For a brief moment, he seriously considered it.
Then he remembered: in some rules-based horror settings, suicide didn't end the suffering—it made things worse.
Damn those rules-horror writers! Couldn't they show a little mercy?! Did they ever stop to think how awful this would be for someone actually living it?! Where's the sympathy for poor transmigrators like me?!
"Living rules, huh?"
While Takakai was mentally spiraling, Kaguya—who had finished reading first—frowned slightly.
The so-called "rules" were unsettling in every way, giving her an inexplicable sense of dread. Though she had never believed in the supernatural, that eerie voice earlier—and the complete loss of bodily control—had shaken her skepticism.
"If these rules aren't a prank... Hmm, where's the clock mentioned here?"
Takakai scanned the room for the "absolutely accurate" timepiece—then froze.
On his left wrist was a black watch he hadn't been wearing before.
No visible brand. No decorations. Just a plain black watch.
Before noticing it, he hadn't felt its presence at all—no sensation of wearing anything. Only after spotting it did he become aware of the weight on his wrist.
But when he raised his left hand for a closer look, he saw the watch face was covered in cracks, with only a single minute hand pointing rigidly at the 12 o'clock position. No hour hand. No second hand. No buttons or switches to adjust it.
What the hell is this thing?
Is this... my protagonist cheat item?
Desperate for hope in the face of impending horror, Takakai clung to this possibility like a lifeline.
"Aaaaaah—!"
A woman's piercing scream suddenly rang out—seemingly from the next room.
Ah, the classic horror trope: a sudden scream to kickstart the plot. Next, we'll find a corpse, everyone will spout nonsense theories, then some middle-aged guy will collapse while a grade-schooler hides behind him and delivers the killer's monologue, right?
...Honestly, I'd take that over this nightmare.
"Should we go check it out? We're probably not the only ones trapped here," Takakai said, clearing his throat as he turned to Kaguya.
Then he noticed the printed rules sheet was already in her hands, being flipped and examined from every angle—even the blank backside was scrutinized.
Looking for hidden messages?
And she took it from the table without me noticing? How the hell is she so quiet? Is this a 2D girl thing, or is she secretly ex-Assassin's Creed?!
"Let's investigate. You hold onto the rules—I don't have pockets," Kaguya said finally, placing the sheet back on the table.
Her tone was calm, but she made no move to leave first. Takakai understood: You take the lead.
Folding the paper into his pocket, he approached the apartment's only door—
—which emitted an ear-splitting SCREECH as he forced it open, its hinges rusted nearly solid.
Beyond it was a small wall clock showing 8:30.
Daytime. Probably safe.
The door's position made no sense: opening it revealed a wall barely a meter away. To reach the living area, you had to turn right down a narrow hallway, then take a sharp left.
What kind of deranged architect designed this place?!
Worse, the front door's lock was broken, the deadbolt jammed in place.
Fantastic.
Stepping into the main hallway only deepened the oppressive atmosphere.
The corridor was cramped, lined with towering cabinets bolted to the walls—their tops barely wide enough for an adult to crouch on.
The walls were cracked, the ceiling water-stained. The doors—all a rust-red color—bore peeling numbers.
Takakai's room: 204.
Outside 205—the source of the scream—several people had already gathered:
A Black man with a buzz cut.
A pudgy Asian businessman in a rumpled suit.
A hulking white man with vine-like facial tattoos.
An unremarkable middle-aged Asian man with a backpack.
And... a high school girl in Shuchi'in's uniform.
"Someone you know?" Takakai whispered to Kaguya.
"..."
Recognition flashed between the two girls—instantly masked.
Shijou Maki?!
Takakai's otaku brain supplied the name.
The perpetually suffering, eternally cucked side character from Kaguya-sama?!
What kind of sadistic bastard threw this poor girl into a death game?!
His mental tirade was cut short as the group collectively turned toward 205's door.