Where did this dating game of ours get any Lovecraftian elements?

Staring at the blood-red letters, Chen Shang’s feelings were a tangled mess.

He had to admit, part of the game’s world-building had been delegated to his assistant for review. But he could personally swear on his own head—and even his precious parts—that there were absolutely no Cthulhu elements in this game. After all, if the game was both post-apocalyptic and Cthulhu-themed, how could players even think about romance? Might as well make it a pure horror survival game!

The “Book of Curses” they’d designed was merely a hidden easter egg, a prop meant to muddle people’s minds, but it could never summon any bizarre entities. Not to mention, ninety-nine percent of players would never even find it before finishing the game.

“What on earth is this Abyssal Goddess? There’s definitely no such romanceable character in my game!” Returning to his room, Chen Shang chewed on his fingernail, seized by a rare sense of unease.

After the preliminary rounds of the Grand Arena, his corruption score had shot up by 500 points, and it was still climbing. He’d managed to foil the Xu Group’s plans again, and Night Axis City’s future had shifted drastically because of him.

Perhaps he should have been prepared, should have realized what stakes his risky, razor’s-edge plans truly entailed. Now that the game had entered an irreversible spiral of collapse, it was bound to develop in unforeseen ways, like a boulder pushed down a slope—unstoppable.

“What a headache…” Chen Shang instinctively reached for his Calm Hormone skill, only to remember it was still on cooldown.

Thinking about it, he’d really grown a little too reliant on that ability. Whenever he had to do something big, he’d trigger it, just so he wouldn’t vomit at the sight of corpses and blood.

Chen Shang glanced at the window’s glass, where his own slightly panicked face was reflected. Just then, his phone rang.

“Hello, who is this?” His tone was flat and languid.

“The young lady wants to see you.” The caller was Sakura Honda, Chiyo’s personal secretary.

“I’m not going, I’m tired.” Chen Shang was in no mood to oblige. “Your young lady knows perfectly well what I’m up to—does she have a screw loose?”

There was a silence on the other end, then: “The car is already waiting downstairs. If we don’t see you in ten minutes, we’ll use force.”

“She really thinks she’s a princess, doesn’t she?” Chen Shang muttered. “Oh wait, she actually is.”

“You’re someone the young lady is paying close attention to. Don’t force us to take action.” With that, Sakura hung up.

Chen Shang sighed, got up, and left. His sister was out on business again, and being at home alone was pointless.

...

After arriving at Chiyo’s office, Chen Shang found her dressed immaculately in a suit, sitting at her desk, flipping through Tokugawa Corporation’s files.

He sprawled on a sofa, took a deep breath, and said, “If you’re busy, you didn’t have to call me over.”

Chiyo set down her papers and glanced at her visitor. “You won the match, so why do you still look so gloomy?”

“Because you called me here,” Chen Shang replied, exhaling.

“What’s the real reason?” Chiyo seemed less affected by his sarcasm than before; her expression barely changed.

“Why so many questions?” Chen Shang’s eyes were weary, his tone playful. “You didn’t drag me here just to say, ‘Congratulations on passing the preliminaries, but the finals are dangerous, so don’t let your guard down,’ did you?”

“Oh right, and…” He grinned. “You’ll probably ask who my two teammates really are—are they dangerous people, right?”

Chiyo rubbed her sore shoulders and replied, “And then you’ll say, ‘Even if I die, it’s none of your business.’”

Hearing this, Chen Shang clapped in delight, wearing the benevolent look of a father watching his daughter grow up. “Spot on! At this rate, we’ll be able to communicate telepathically.”

Chiyo stared at him, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “I’m in a foul mood today. I want to go for a drive.”

“What a coincidence, so am I.” Chen Shang smiled and stood up. “Let’s go.”

...

A deep-red sports car sped along a deserted mountain road, whipping up the wind. Chiyo’s foot seemed fused to the accelerator, her hands deftly turning the wheel.

Chen Shang sat in the passenger seat, fighting the urge to reach over and help her hit the brakes. Normally, he’d never ride with this madwoman, but right now, he desperately needed a release.

Ahead was a near-ninety-degree switchback where any sane driver would slow to a crawl to avoid careening off the cliff. But Chiyo didn’t let up; at the last moment, she wrenched the wheel, sending the car spinning in place—front wheels gripping the road, rear wheels airborne—just barely making the turn.

Catching a glance at Chen Shang, who nearly flew out the window, Chiyo stomped the gas again. The tires shrieked as they spun against the asphalt.

They finally stopped atop a mountain peak. It was a rare clear day, and wild grass blanketed the slopes.

Chen Shang got out first, only to buckle and half-kneel, weak in the knees.

Chiyo couldn’t help but laugh, then quickly regained her composure.

“I thought you’d take me cruising downtown,” Chen Shang said, letting the mountain breeze ruffle his hair. “You like this kind of wilderness too?”

Standing beside him, Chiyo replied coolly, “You’re not as guarded as before. If I tried to kill you here, what would you do?”

“Is this what the yakuza think about all day?” Chen Shang squinted, utterly unafraid. “Plenty of people want me dead—you’re not even in the top tier yet.”

“You mean the Xu Group?” Chiyo brushed her bangs aside. “You seem to have it out for them. Any special reason?”

“Of course I can’t tell you. Why don’t you guess?” Chen Shang lapsed into his usual cryptic mode.

Suddenly, a gust of wind came from his side. Instinctively, he dodged, and Chiyo’s fist grazed his cheek.

“Are you nuts? Picking a fight now?” Chen Shang stepped back, putting distance between them.

“Don’t even think of escaping!” Chiyo closed in, fists clenched.

Bang—bang—

Chiyo’s punch landed on his cheek. At the same moment, Chen Shang’s own fist struck hers. Both stepped back, then charged again.

For some reason, Chen Shang felt a bit of his anxiety drain away. Chiyo, too, wore a rare, relaxed smile—almost exhilarated.

Bang! Bang! They each landed another fierce blow.

It was less a fight and more a mutual pummeling, both abandoning defense entirely and focusing solely on landing punches—as if fists were the only language left between them.

After several rounds, both finally collapsed on the ground, breathless.

“You know,” Chiyo turned her head, black hair sticking to her flushed, battered face in a way that showed she cared little for appearances. “I’ve never felt so agitated in my life.”

“Why?” Chen Shang lay back, hands behind his head. “So you dragged me out here for a fistfight, just to vent?”

Chiyo thought for a moment, then seemed to make up her mind. “You’re always doing dangerous things… and the women around you seem to be multiplying.”

—What am I saying?!

The words were barely out before Chiyo turned away in embarrassment, silently berating herself.

She’d meant to talk about something else, but in the end, she’d blurted out her real concern.

What is this, jealousy? The heiress of the Asayo Group, jealous of a boorish commoner like him?

To cover her discomfort, Chiyo pulled out a box of wound ointment and began dabbing at her bruises.

“That’s what’s bothering you?” Chen Shang frowned slightly. “You’re right—there are more and more people around me, men and women both. I have no intention of reining it in, nor could I if I wanted to.”

“I’m not as formidable as you think. Sometimes, even I can’t control how things turn out—I just have to accept it.” He took the half-used ointment from her and dabbed some on his own face. “All I can do is keep moving forward. If something tries to stop me, I’ll do whatever it takes to remove it. If it shows a health bar, I’ll beat it down; if it shows an affection bar, I’ll win it over. It’s really that simple.”

“There you go again, talking nonsense I can’t understand.” Chiyo snatched back the ointment and sprayed it on her own scars.

—That’s right, I’ve been overcomplicating things from the start.

So what if unknown elements appear in the game? Chen Shang’s only path is always forward, until this game, which was never truly his, falls into utter ruin.

Not for any special reason. Only because he once loved this game deeply, though it no longer belongs to him.

Chen Shang stood up and dusted off his hands. “I’m hungry. Shall we go back?”

“Makes no difference to me.” Chiyo sat on the ground, swinging the car keys. Then, with rare solemnity, she said, “But I do have a favor to ask.”

“What is it?”

“Stay alive in the finals.”

Chen Shang blinked, then broke into laughter. “No problem, Princess. This level of chaos isn’t nearly enough to kill me!”

Looking at his trademark confident grin, Chiyo was struck by déjà vu.

Whenever Chen Shang smiled like that, something good and something bad always happened. The good was for him; the bad, for someone else.