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Childe's decision to turn his head and retreat seemed to trigger a hidden switch in the game's logic. The tall, groaning specter standing beneath the flickering lamp suddenly shrieked, charging toward him with supernatural speed. In an instant, Childe's entire field of vision was smothered by a horrific grimace.
It was the face of a woman, her right eye a hollow, dark pit, and her skin matted with thick, dried blood. Her expression was a distorted mask of agony and malice. Then, everything went black.
Congratulations were in order for Childe; he had become the first unlucky soul in Liyue to be strangled to death by the ghost, Lisa.
He stared blankly at the darkened screen, his face flushing with a mix of embarrassment and lingering terror. Audacious in the extreme? Brave as a lion? Hardly. For a split second there, the 11th Harbinger was so frightened he nearly lost control of his bladder. He realized then that his courage usually came from his overwhelming strength; without his martial prowess, his bravery was no different from that of a common citizen.
The onlookers in the cafe were equally embarrassed and deeply confused.
"This is nothing like the stories!" one merchant complained. "The books say you're supposed to avoid eye contact and back away slowly when you meet a spirit."
"I heard the opposite," a young man countered. "I heard you have to be brave and confront a ghost head-on to make it dissipate."
"Maybe the constitution of ghosts varies," another suggested. "Some ghosts are timid. Maybe they'd be scared if you tried a sliding kick?"
"A sliding kick? You'd just be sliding into its mouth to feed it!"
"Who knows? Maybe ghosts from another world just follow different rules than the ones here in Teyvat."
Listening to their chatter, Childe felt like spitting out a mouthful of blood. Damn it, he thought, I only retreated because I listened to your 'local expertise,' and I got a face full of ghost for my trouble. These locals were a bunch of scammers. He realized that if he wanted to conquer this otherworldly technology, he could only rely on himself.
Childe restarted the game and navigated back to the fifth loop with practiced ease. This time, he didn't rush to the corner. Instead, he scoured the first stretch of the corridor, desperately searching for a clue to avoid the female ghost. However, the hallway offered nothing. Childe's talent for combat was undeniably top-tier, but his investigative patience was starting to look a little worrying.
With the entrance sealed behind him and no clues to be found, he had no choice but to bite the bullet. He walked toward the corner to face the groaning figure under the lamp once more. Even as he told himself to remain calm and steady, his heart rate climbed steadily.
"A mere ghost... do you really think I'm afraid of you?"
Recalling his embarrassing retreat from earlier, Childe's pride finally began to overshadow his fear. He steeled his resolve and rushed straight toward the shadow beneath the chandelier.
As he lunged, the lights in the corridor ahead flickered and died. The ghost vanished into thin air. Childe skidded to a halt, confused. The bathroom door was cracked open just as it had been before, with cockroaches crawling over the frame.
"Now what am I supposed to do?" he muttered, looking around.
The low groans continued to echo from the darkness ahead. The bathroom door wouldn't open any further, and the interior was a black void. He realized he had to keep moving.
"Forget it. How can an Executive of the Fatui be intimidated by a little darkness?"
He gritted his teeth and pushed forward. The horrible moaning rang in his ears, testing the limits of his rationality. As he reached the end of the hall, the chandelier above him flared back to life, illuminating the cockroaches swarming the walls. To his relief, the door to the next cycle was open. He hurried down the steps and pushed through to the sixth loop.
The sixth corridor was brightly lit and appeared normal at first glance. Childe didn't know if the ghost would return here, but after the last loop, he felt like she could jump out from behind any corner.
As he approached the bathroom, the door suddenly swung wide open on its own. At the end of the hall, the exit to the next cycle was visibly locked. The game was funneling him toward the bathroom.
Childe remembered the radio broadcast; the daughter had died in there. Was it the mother he saw earlier, and the daughter's turn now? Despite his deep reluctance, he edged toward the open doorway.
A single point of light cut through the gloom of the bathroom floor—a flashlight. In the pitch blackness of the house, a light source was invaluable. But this flashlight looked like a textbook trap, a lure to bring him inside. He had no other choice.
The moment Childe stepped in and picked up the flashlight, the bathroom door slammed shut behind him, locking him inside.
"I knew it," he sighed, his expression a mix of frustration and dread. "I absolutely knew it would happen."