The Yellow Room Trap
The underground torture chamber of the Holy Empire's Yellow Room. A staggering figure tumbled out as the dungeon gate opened.
"Huff... huff..."
It was Rael, the sole survivor among the five holy knights. But her appearance was wretched. Her uniform was soaked in blood, and her eyes were unfocused, trembling violently.
"I made it out... I made it out..."
Rael collapsed to the floor, clutching the dirt. The cold touch of the stone ground. The air of the outside world, not reeking of blood. Only then did she truly realize she had escaped that hellish dungeon.
"It's over... finally...!"
Rael muttered like a madwoman. At that moment, a shadow fell over her. It was Cardinal Benedict.
"Congratulations, sister. You've returned safely."
Benedict's voice was kindly, but his gaze was one that assessed results.
"What of the other brothers?"
"......"
Rael's body shook like a leaf in the wind. Cassius, Valt, Gawain... Their gruesome ends flashed through her mind. Comrades who had devoured and betrayed each other, ultimately trapped forever in framed photographs.
"They're dead... all dead..."
Rael whimpered in response. It was the only thing she could say.
"Only me... I'm the only one who survived!"
"I see. How unfortunate."
Benedict clicked his tongue, but not a trace of sorrow crossed his face. Instead, his lips curled in satisfaction.
"But you survived, didn't you? That must be the will of God."
He crouched before Rael, meeting her eyes.
"Now, as promised, your sins are forgiven. Do you wish to return to the holy knights?"
The holy knights. Once her everything. But now, Rael's mind held no thought of knighthood, honor, or faith. Only one emotion dominated her: terror. A primal fear that screamed she never wanted to go back there.
"No... I don't want to...!"
Rael scrambled backward.
"I don't need the knights or anything! Please... not there, never back there!"
She clutched at Benedict's robes, pleading.
"I'll do whatever you say... anything! Just don't send me back to that dungeon!"
The proud holy knight was gone. No one would guess this trembling wreck had once been disciplined for defying doctrine. She was just a frail sheep tamed by fear.
"Hmm."
Benedict stroked Rael's head.
"Fear outweighs even the grief of lost comrades. Perfect."
He was certain. This dungeon was a tool. More reliable than any torture or brainwashing, it could shatter and rebuild the human mind perfectly.
'The demons of the demon world have crafted something incredible.'
Benedict smiled benignly and spoke.
"Don't worry. You've passed the test, so no need to go back."
He helped Rael to her feet and handed her to the escort knights.
"Clean her up and let her rest. And..."
He turned and commanded.
"Prepare the heretics next. No better place to cleanse their filthy thoughts."
Benedict made the sign of the cross toward the dungeon. A dungeon gained through a pact with demons, but a most satisfactory deal.
Dungeon 'Private Girls' High School' has successfully repelled intruders.
HR Score increased by 10 points.
'Oh.'
The notification already popped up, so my dungeon must have succeeded again.
'It had to.'
With all the rules I embedded. Thanks to that, I saved points from the project. And now I could use them on my own dungeon. True creative economy.
As I thought that—
"Aiden, a word?"
Liliane approached my desk. Her expression brighter than ever.
"Congratulations. The project was a huge success."
"Results already?"
I'd checked via status, but played dumb.
Liliane smiled and continued.
"Yes, the client was thrilled. More like awestruck?"
She handed me a document. 'Transaction Complete,' with incentive payout and HR score increase noted.
"I don't know the client, but they're influential. Thanks to you, our team's performance skyrocketed."
She patted my shoulder lightly.
"Promotion to assistant manager is in the bag. Good work, Aiden."
Liliane returned to her seat, beaming. I smirked at the incentive amount.
Influential folks, huh. Whoever they were, they got their money's worth.
'Well, no dungeon like mine.'
But urban legend horrors didn't make it invincible. Dungeons end when the core— the heart— is destroyed.
Right. Cores destroyed mean dungeon gone. Absolute law of this world, common sense. Why adventurers risk death otherwise.
But I twisted that common sense. With horror stories. Specifically, rules from horrors that make intruders forget the core exists.
Red Mask's "Am I pretty?" School rules. In that barrage, who calmly hunts cores?
Their minds fixate: 'How to not break rules?' 'How to survive?'
My dungeons' real traps aren't physical. Perception prisons.
'That's horror's power.'
Then my terminal beeped.
"Whew."
I grinned. Theory perfect, results stellar, balance even better.
'Time to clock out.'
I grabbed my bag and stood. No one would complain about leaving on time today.
'Now for real work.'
Not company— my own. The abandoned mansion dungeon in Fog Forest. Time to upgrade my personal dungeon.
Fog Forest lived up to its name. Thick fog swallowed the woods, visibility near zero. Heavy, damp air. Only distant crow caws broke the silence.
"Chilling."
I pulled my collar tight and trudged the path. Fallen leaves crunched loudly underfoot.
How far? A massive silhouette emerged from the fog. My new purchase: the abandoned mansion.
"......"
I paused, gazing up. Three-story gothic stone building. Weather-beaten: walls crumbling, vines twisting grotesquely. Garden held decapitated angel statues, mossy fountains; withered trees clawed the sky.
No place for humans. But I smiled.
"Perfect."
This eerie vibe. Prime horror set, no extra staging needed. I whistled, pushing the rusted gate.
Screeech— Earsplitting metal scrape. I entered.
Opening the foyer door assaulted me with musty mold. I flopped onto a dusty sofa and logged into Dungeon Gallery. Housewarming post before remodel?
Always lurked, never posted.
To post on Dungeon Gallery, please set a nickname.
"Nickname, huh."
Unlike lurking. Thought a sec.
"My real name's fine."
Aiden? No, Han Ji-soo. No one here knows it.
Comments exploded instantly. Mostly mockery, not congrats.
"Heh."
I chuckled at the comments. Laugh it up. Your world's about to change.
"Time to remodel."
I fired up the cheap dungeon editor. How to outfit this vast maze? School done, hospital cliché. Leverage structure for efficient horror kills. Eyes on halls, rooms. Endless, complex. Peeling yellow wallpaper.
'Yes. That's it.'
Plan set.
Crash! First-floor window shattered the mansion's silence. Two men crunched over glass shards inside. Worn leather armor, rusted dagger and axe at belts. Low-tier adventurers— thieves, really.
"Hey, sure no one's here?"
Smallest, Rick, scanned nervously. Dim interior, musty mold. Creepy as hell.
"Told ya. Rumor says owner fled, empty dungeon."
Bruno, plan's proposer, snorted.
"Ooh, all ours then?"
Rick eyed greedily. Sellable furniture lingered.
"Hurry. Grab valuables before others."
Bruno led to hall-end door. Parlor or study, probably.
Screeech— Door opened. They stepped in.
Then, floor felt off. Not hard wood— squishy, damp.
Looking up: no grand study.
"...Huh?"
Rick gaped. Endless empty rooms. Soggy old carpet underfoot, walls sickly yellowed. Unsettling yellow. Fluorescent buzz overhead.
"What? Basement?"
Bruno whirled. Entry door gone. Just yellow wall.
"Door... door vanished!"
Rick pounded wall. Solid.
"Calm! Other exit."
Bruno pushed on. Same scenery looped. Yellow walls, basement reek, buzz. Copy-pasted infinity.
"Weird. Circling same spot."
Rick whined. Thirty minutes lost. No windows, furniture— just yellow rooms forever.
"Damn it! What sorcery?!"
Bruno kicked the wall.