While watching Cherry's stream, Dann became intrigued by the game she was playing. Curious and eager to see more, he decided to reach out, sending a sound donation with a simple message: "What are you playing?"
Upon hearing the notification, Cherry responded with a cheerful tone, "I'm playing a game called Respite. So far, we haven't really made much progress." Her voice carried a mix of amusement and nervousness, hinting at the unsettling atmosphere she had encountered.
Intrigued by the game's name, Dann didn't bother watching more of Cherry's gameplay. Instead, he decided to dive into it himself, skipping ahead to experience the horror first hand.
Starting his stream, Dann kicked off with his usual confident introduction. "Hello, it's DannDoesGaming or just Dann if you prefer. Today, we're diving into a game called Respite, which appeared in the government's recent game competition. I just saw Cherry play it, and honestly, it looked like something new and fun. She seemed a bit scared, but don't worry, I'll definitely not be!"
---
He clicked to start the game, already feeling a bit of adrenaline. As he navigated through the eerie environment, he reached the stage where the matchbox was placed. He only flinched slightly at the sight of the melted ghost and the eye embedded in the wall, familiar from Cherry's experience, so it didn't rattle him much. This gave him a false sense of confidence, allowing him to adopt a more 'manly' persona for his viewers.
Then, a donation pinged on his screen: "Cherry had died."
He chuckled, leaning back confidently. "I'll definitely get further than her," he said smugly. "Watch me."
But as he ventured deeper into the game, the atmosphere shifted, creepy shadows and unsettling silence creeping in. He turned a corner and saw a door wide open, which shook him more than he expected. Inside, the room was nearly empty, bare, and sinister.
"Nope, that's a murder room," Dann declared, his voice tinged with mock seriousness. "Who puts a standing mirror in the middle of a room? If that doesn't scream 'weird,' I don't know what does." He shrugged and closed the door, moving on to start another loop, trying to brush off the unease.
Reaching the stage where the matchbox was placed, Dann smirked, feeling a flicker of confidence. A donation notification pinged on his screen: "Cherry had died." He chuckled, leaning back slightly, dismissing the warning. "I'll definitely get further than her," he said smugly, his voice brimming with bravado.
But as he ventured deeper into the unknown, an inexplicable shift began to take hold. Shadows stretched and twisted unnaturally, flickering like dying flames. The air grew thick, heavy with silence, so oppressive it felt like the room itself was holding its breath. Every step forward seemed to echo unnaturally loud, reverberating through the stillness, amplifying the sense that something unseen was watching.
Turning a corner, he froze. Ahead, the door was wide open, swinging gently on its hinges, though no breeze moved through. The shadows around it seemed to flicker and pulse, as if alive. His stomach clenched, a cold wave of dread crawling up his spine.
He hesitated, heart pounding, then moved cautiously toward the doorway. Inside, the room was nearly empty, bare, cold, and suffocating silent. The darkness pressed close, swallowing what little light he had. The faint smell of mold and decay seeped from the shadows, making him want to recoil.
"Nope," Dann declared, his voice echoing unnaturally in the oppressive quiet. "That's a murder room. I see no point going in there." His words sounded hollow, distant—like they were coming from underwater. He stared at the empty space, the feeling that something was lurking just beyond sight prickling at the back of his mind. "Seriously, who puts a standing mirror right in the middle of the room? If that doesn't scream 'weird,' I don't know what does." His voice wavered slightly, the bravado cracking as a faint, unnatural whisper seemed to drift from the shadows behind the mirror. The air grew colder, the silence heavier, as if the room was waiting.
He shook his head, forcing himself to close the door, trying to dismiss the creeping unease. But the feeling lingered, gnawing at his nerves. His hands trembled as he turned to walk through another loop, desperate to shake off the growing sense that something was watching, and waiting.
From the corner of his eye, Dann caught a fleeting glimpse, a hollow, starved face peering out from behind a moved bookcase. The figure stared at him with wild, crazed eyes, gaunt, starving, and on the edge of madness. Then, in an instant, the face vanished.
His stomach clenched. The first thought that shot through his mind was, Nope. Screw this.
Without hesitation, he spun around and headed straight for the entry door, determined to restart the loop. As he retraced his steps through the corridor, he passed the earlier open door, its darkness still beckoning. Then, suddenly, he heard it: a creak. Slow, deliberate, sinister.
He froze. His heart hammered in his chest. Carefully, he turned his head, eyes fixed on the open door as if expecting something to emerge. But before he could fully process what was inside, he heard a heavy movement behind him, a low, guttural sound that made his blood run cold.
Followed by the unmistakable sound of bare feet slapping quickly on the wooden floor. The noise was relentless. Dann instinctively dropped his candle, not even daring to look back. His only thought was to run, to escape whatever lurked behind him.
He sprinted toward the open door, throwing himself through it and slamming it shut behind him. The violent banging on the other side echoed in his ears, a deafening, relentless rhythm. Gasping for breath, he fumbled to light another candle, the flickering flame revealing a gruesome scene.
In the dim glow, he saw a giant vat filled with a yellowy-pink fluid at the bottom, nearly dried up. His eyes darted around the room, settling on a bowl nearby, bearing the same sickly fluid marks. As he looked closer, his stomach churned. Inside the bowl was a chewed, broken skeleton hand, bones jagged and bloodless.
The sight made him scream. Without thinking, he grabbed the bowl and hurled it across the room, the shattering sound reverberating painfully. But as the bowl shattered, the door swung open with a thunderous creak. Standing in the doorway was the man from behind the bookcase, his face now twisted into a grotesque, crazed stare, eyes burning with hunger.
And then, he charged.
With wild, feral eyes, the man lunged at Dann, who panicked. He spun around and ran around the vat, the man in pursuit. Heart pounding, Dann reached back for the door he had just opened—but behind it was solid brick wall. No escape.
Turning around, he saw the man's face contorted with madness, snarling, ready to devour him. In a desperate act, Dann pushed the man into the vat. The figure slowly dissolved into the sickly, bubbling fluid, a grotesque, slow-motion disintegration that sent a shiver down Dann's spine.
But what chilled him even more was the prompt that suddenly appeared: "Satiate your hunger."
Before he could react, a first-person animation forced him forward, toward the vat. His knees buckled as the game compelled him to scoop up the gloopy, viscous fluid with his hands and bring it tremblingly to his mouth.
The screen then faded to black.
A stark message appeared: "You have become a consumer."
---
When the game finally ended, Dann slowly removed his headset, his hands trembling uncontrollably. His body felt numb, yet a sick, queasy sensation churned relentlessly in his stomach. His breath came in shallow, ragged gasps as he leaned forward, dry heaving heavily into his hands, the nausea clawing up his throat. His vision blurred, and for a moment, all he could see was the dark, twisted images seared into his mind.
After what felt like an eternity, he managed a deep, shaky breath, each inhale trembling with residual fear and disgust. His voice was hoarse and cracked, trembling with emotion as he finally spoke.
"Well… that was revolting," he rasped, his voice rough with revulsion, words barely more than a whisper. "I… I don't think I'll be playing that game again. Ever." His eyes flicked upward, wide and unsteady, haunted by the images that refused to fade. His hands trembled as they rested on his lap, fingers clutching at the chair as if trying to ground himself.
He sat in tense silence, his heart pounding painfully in his chest, desperately trying to process what he had just experienced. The room seemed colder now, the weight of the horror still pressing down on him, sinking deep into his bones. The lingering dread was heavy and suffocating, a dark cloud that refused to lift
End of Ch 11: Satiate the Hunger