My Afterlife System!

The heavy silence inside the mansion clung to Jihwan like a second skin. Every breath felt forced, as if the very air resisted his presence. The Cursed Dagger rested in his hand, its cold edge humming faintly—a constant reminder that it was always hungry.

The massive wooden doors behind him had slammed shut without warning, sealing him inside. The System's quest window still flickered at the edge of his vision.

---

[Quest Objective: Survive in Death's Mansion (Old) and reach the exit.]

[Sub-Objective: Face the Horror Without Succumbing to Fear.]

---

His heart thudded in his chest. This wasn't a dungeon or some abandoned ruin. It felt... wrong.

The walls themselves seemed to breathe. The faint scent of mildew clung to the air, laced with something far older—something rotten. The floorboards creaked beneath his cautious steps, each sound swallowed by the suffocating stillness.

Jihwan scanned the grand entrance hall. Dust-covered paintings lined the walls, their figures blurred and indistinct. Tattered velvet curtains hung over shattered windows, allowing only slivers of moonlight to cut through the dark. The air was thick, heavy with the weight of unseen eyes.

He gripped his dagger tighter.

Fear was beginning to crawl at the edges of his mind—the Faceless Horror's influence.

---

[Fear's Grasp: 5%]

Your perception of reality is beginning to distort.

The longer you stay in the presence of a Faceless Horror, the stronger its influence becomes.

Fear increases its power.

---

Jihwan's breathing slowed. He clenched his jaw.

No. Not yet.

He wouldn't let this place break him—not so soon.

A faint noise echoed through the hall—a soft, rhythmic tapping.

Footsteps.

They came from somewhere deeper within the mansion, slow and deliberate. Each step seemed to linger in the air, echoing far longer than it should have.

Jihwan's heart hammered harder. The sound made no sense.

The rhythm was... too human.

His eyes flicked toward the dark hallway at the far end of the hall. The candlelight barely reached it, leaving the corridor shrouded in shadows.

He forced himself forward. Step by step, the oppressive air thickened around him. The walls felt closer, pressing inward as if the mansion itself was trying to swallow him whole.

The whispers began again.

Low, fragmented voices echoed through the hall, too soft to make out. They slithered through the air like unseen fingers brushing against his skin.

He couldn't understand the words, but their intent was clear.

They wanted him to be afraid.

Jihwan swallowed hard, forcing the fear down. He gripped the dagger until his knuckles turned white.

Don't listen. Don't let them in.

[Fear's Grasp: 10%]

Reality begins to shift. Shadows move at the edge of your vision.

Resist or risk losing your sanity.

His breath quickened.

Every instinct in his body screamed to turn back. To run.

But there was nowhere to run.

He pushed forward.

At the far end of the hallway, a door stood slightly ajar. Faint candlelight flickered from within, casting long, wavering shadows across the walls.

Jihwan approached slowly, careful not to make a sound. His free hand reached out, pushing the door open inch by inch—

Creeeaaak.

The room beyond was a study. Dust-coated bookshelves lined the walls, their titles long forgotten. A cracked chandelier hung from the ceiling, its glass crystals dull and lifeless.

But what caught Jihwan's attention was the desk in the center of the room.

A single candle flickered on its surface. Beside it, a journal lay open—its pages yellowed and brittle.

He stepped inside cautiously, eyes flicking across the room. No signs of movement.

He approached the desk and scanned the journal. Faded writing filled the pages—notes scribbled in a shaky, desperate hand.

They won't let me leave.

I hear them every night.

The faces... they have no eyes.

I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have

The final sentence was scratched out so violently the paper had torn.

Jihwan's pulse quickened.

The air in the room grew colder.

Then—

Tap.

His breath caught.

The footsteps were back—closer this time.

Jihwan spun around, pressing his back against the desk. His heart pounded in his chest. The hallway outside remained empty, but the shadows seemed... deeper.

He could feel something watching him.

Waiting.

[Fear's Grasp: 15%]

Hallucinations may begin.

The Faceless Horror draws closer.

Jihwan clenched his teeth, forcing the fear down. He couldn't let it break him.

Not yet.

A faint sound drifted through the air—soft, almost delicate.

Breathing.

It was coming from the hallway.

His mind screamed at him to move, to run—but he couldn't. His legs felt like lead, his pulse pounding in his ears.

Don't look.

He forced his eyes shut.

Don't listen.

The breathing grew louder.

It's not real. It's not real.

Then—

A voice, low and distorted, whispered right beside his ear.

"You... don't... belong."

Jihwan's eyes shot open. He lashed out with the dagger, slashing at empty air. The room was empty.

The whispers had stopped.

But the fear remained.

He stumbled back, his breath ragged. His mind raced, trying to regain control.

Focus. Survive. Keep moving.

[Fear's Grasp: 20%]

The Faceless Horror is aware of your presence.

It will come for you soon.

Jihwan's heart hammered in his chest. He forced his legs to move, stumbling toward the doorway. His hand clutched the dagger so tightly his fingers ached.

This place wasn't just cursed.

It was alive.

It fed on fear—on him.

[New System Message]

[Quest Objective Updated: Face the Horror or be consumed.]

Jihwan's breath caught.

The System had never given him a choice before.

He glanced back into the shadows, the cold presence pressing closer with every second.

There was no way out.

Not unless he faced it.

He swallowed hard, gripping the dagger until his knuckles went white. His body trembled—but he took a step forward.

"I'm not going to die here."

The mansion seemed to shudder at his words, the whispers retreating—if only for a moment.

His heartbeat steadied.

If this place wanted fear...

Then he would give it something else.

Defiance.

Jihwan's footsteps echoed through the vast, hollow corridor. The air clung to him like a second skin, thick with something unseen yet undeniably present. Each step forward felt heavier, as if the mansion itself was resisting his advance.

The candlelight flickered against the towering walls, casting warped shadows of long-dead figures trapped in their portraits. Their painted eyes seemed to follow him, watching—judging. He tightened his grip on the dagger. This place isn't just cursed. It's alive.

Then he heard it.

A slow, rhythmic tapping. Not footsteps—something heavier, dragging across the floor. His body tensed, instincts flaring. Stay calm. Stay sharp.

Turning the corner, he saw it.

A figure loomed in the dim light, draped in tattered robes, its face obscured by shadow. A jagged, rusted sword trailed behind it, scraping against the stone floor. The sound was sharp, grating. But it was the figure's eyes that held Jihwan frozen in place—hollow, endless voids that swallowed the light around them.

For a moment, neither moved.

Then the voice came. Low, rasping, like bones scraping together.

"Are you the one who dares enter the Death's Mansion?"

Jihwan didn't respond. The pressure in the room thickened, wrapping around him like invisible chains.

The figure tilted its head, the motion slow, deliberate. "You can feel it, can't you? The weight of its curse." It took a step forward. "You will not leave this place. No one ever does."

Jihwan's eyes narrowed. He adjusted his stance, dagger at the ready.

A chuckle, jagged and broken, escaped the figure. "Foolish."

The sword swung.

Jihwan barely dodged, the wind from the strike cold against his skin. The impact cracked the stone floor where he had stood moments ago. Too strong. I can't fight it head-on.

The guard didn't relent. It moved with inhuman speed, each strike heavier than the last. Jihwan's arms ached from deflecting the blows, and his breathing grew ragged. He needed a way out—fast.

His gaze flickered to the surroundings. The mansion had no clear exits, the hall stretching into endless darkness. The walls themselves seemed to shift, as if rearranging to trap him.

No. This isn't just a battle. It's a test.

Then, an opening.

Jihwan feinted to the left, then twisted sharply, lunging in. His dagger found its mark, sinking into the figure's ribs.

Silence.

Then laughter.

Cold, merciless. The wound sealed shut before his eyes. "You think that will stop me?"

Jihwan's breath hitched. His attack had done nothing.

The guard raised its sword once more, dark energy crackling along the rusted edge. The air vibrated with power.

Then—

[New Objective: Defeat the Death's Mansion Guard.]

[Current Location: Death's Mansion – Main Hall.]

Jihwan's pulse steadied. This wasn't just a battle. This was a trial. And if he didn't figure out the rules soon—

He wouldn't be leaving alive.