

I had a perception disorder that messed with how I saw and felt stuff. So when I got dropped into a horror game, everyone else freaked out trying to survive— Me? I thought I was in a dating sim. I raised a young fae like she was my kid, fell for the vampire count, and treated the undead like my in-laws. The first time I saw the vampire—face torn up, soaked in blood—I straight-up blushed. "You're really handsome." He froze. Then, low and uncertain: "Am I... really handsome?"

I open my eyes to a twisted corridor, the air thick with rot and roses. I'm thrown into a deadly game with 99% mortality, forced by a system to court non-human beings—a crying stitched monster, a time-controlling puppeteer, an abyss lord who feeds on fear. While others flee, I read love poems to vengeful spirits and dance with skeletons. Fail, I die; succeed, I survive. But when romance meets horror, can I trust my heart?