Chapter 51: Crimson Apartment 11

Lowering his head, he gazed down at her, his lips curving into a cold yet delicate line.

"Literally what I said. Treat this card however you like; just come to my room tonight. It doesn't matter whether you see me as your boyfriend or your sugar daddy."

The player leaned in, pressing close to her soft, pale earlobe, which glowed with a jade-like translucency, bringing the girl's stunning face within arm's reach.

"You should understand, right?" he murmured, his handsome face drawing closer, his breathing slightly heavy. "You're not unfamiliar with this sort of thing, are you?"

"As long as you step into my room, you'll have endless money to spend..." He smiled softly, his gaze scanning her pretty face with a near-greedy intensity.

"Such a gorgeous face; it deserves to be put to good use. Isn't that simple enough for you?"

Zhou Zhou already understood his implication.

He thought of her as...

What first surged up in her heart was a sense of absurdity and disbelief, mixed with a trace of bewildered and helpless anger.

...To think that he would view her this way. Had she really... sunk so low in the players' eyes?

She—she desperately wanted to smack that look right off his face.

Yet Zhou Zhou suppressed the urge. Her persona was that of someone willing to do anything for money, making it all too easy for others to jump to such conclusions.

Besides... she couldn't even refute it.

The player's body continued to press against hers, closing the distance to an unchaste degree.

"Don't touch me."

Biting her lip, Zhou Zhou pushed him away, tossed the bank card back at him, and feigned a look of disdain.

"I don't want this."

Deliberately lowering her raven-black eyelashes, she struck a somewhat arrogant posture, her soft, alluring, faintly red lips parting slightly.

"A card just tossed out casually—who knows if it's real or fake? With so many things happening today, even the police won't answer their phones... How could I possibly believe you?"

The card was shoved back into his hand, carrying the warm and fragrant scent of the young woman's palm. The player froze, opening his mouth as if to say something more, when the crew-cut man suddenly began to clamor:

"Hey, did the landlord of this apartment run away out of fear, or did someone die, and he's behind it all?"

The man's eyes gleamed with greed and longing for money as he said to the others, who were shivering from the chain of events: "If he doesn't want us talking, shouldn't he pay us a little hush money?"

The man spoke with excitement, ignoring the terrified and uneasy expressions of those around him, his face twisted with a frenzied obsession.

"If you ask me, we should demand a refund right now, plus tens of thousands in compensation... Everyone should—"

Abruptly, the harsh, grating voice cut off. His words were interrupted by a chilling male voice.

"What?"

Someone walked in from outside the apartment. Walking against the light, he possessed a tall and slender figure, and his features gradually came into focus.

"Someone wants a refund?"

The crew-cut man startled. He had only met this landlord once when negotiating the lease for his apartment room, and this was the first time he had ever seen him look so chilling.

Usually, the landlord wore an upturned smile, gentle and exceptionally handsome, with soft eyes, appearing very much like a good-natured fellow.

Only deep within his eyes flickered an elusive, faint trace of cold mockery and frost.

At this moment, devoid of any smile, the landlord looked at him with indifference and contempt. "You said you want a refund?"

The landlord's gaze pinned him without a shred of warmth. For reasons unknown, the crew-cut man felt his confidence falter, but since he had already said it—and someone had died in the apartment—they were naturally owed hush money.

There was no way they could continue living in this apartment anyway.

Bracing himself, the man raised his voice and said, "Yes! Someone died in your building, shouldn't you give us a refund?"

"And what about the hush money? At least tens of thousands, right?"

The more he spoke, the more justified the man felt. If he hadn't been unable to get through to the police, he would have reported this eccentric landlord long ago.

The landlord definitely had something to hide.

Otherwise, why had nothing ever happened at his previous rentals, but the moment he moved into this landlord's apartment, someone ended up dead?

The man stared eagerly at the landlord. Strange as the landlord was... he was wealthy.

And not just ordinarily wealthy.

Owning such a massive apartment complex in the city center meant it was worth at least hundreds of millions, and he had heard the man also owned hundreds of villas.

A person like that... even the smallest scraps overflowing from his hands would be enough to last a lifetime.

The landlord replied, "Alright."

The man grew excited. Could it really be that simple? The greed within his heart surged uncontrollably, driving him to blurt out: "No—no, tens of thousands isn't enough. I want one hundred thousand!"

"Very well," the landlord chuckled softly. "Anything else?"

His tone... did this mean he was actually willing to pay even more for their silence?

Heat rushed to the crew-cut man's head. It made sense; with how wealthy the landlord was, he naturally wouldn't care, and as for himself... what harm was there in taking a little more?

His expression turned ecstatic and fanatical. "I also want a house in City A!"

"Alright," the landlord looked at him, his gaze disdainful and towering. "Is that all?"

Clenching his fists, the crew-cut man tried desperately to suppress the smile threatening to break across his face. "Not for now..."

"Oh."

The landlord's expression remained unchanged. With a snap of his fingers, he said indifferently, "Then go claim it in hell."

Before the man could even process the words, his entire body exploded with a bang.

"Ah—!!"

"No, stop—!!"

Blood splattered all over the tenants. Although the weather wasn't particularly cold, they felt as though they had plunged into an icy abyss, their gazes freezing in a daze.

A living, breathing human life had just vanished like that.

A dense mist of blood permeated the apartment.

Someone collapsed to the floor, muttering, "Am—am I dreaming?"

How could a man possibly burst into a spray of blood just like that?

"Come on... everyone's just joking, right? This is a prop... it's just ketchup, isn't it?"

Someone forced out a loud laugh, reaching up to touch the blood on their face—so warm, so thick with the stench of iron.

The scent was undeniably, wholly the stench of fresh blood.

No matter how one tried to spin it, calling it ketchup was a stretch too far.

A bone-chilling terror crept up their spines. The people in the apartment stood frozen in place, none of them daring to utter another word.

The smell of blood assaulted their noses and throats. Fear, anxiety, panic—

Their minds went completely blank.

There was only the man who had exploded before their eyes and the crimson blood.

The players were equally shaken.

No way... kicking off the scenario like this?

Given how this dungeon boss played completely by his own rules and resorted to killing at the slightest provocation, surviving this dungeon would be extraordinarily difficult.

The players' hearts sank deep into the abyss.