Chapter 7: The Family's Secret

The banging on the door continued for several minutes.

I stood behind my husband, watching him stare at the entrance with those terrifying black eyes.

For some reason, I wasn't afraid of him anymore.

I was more worried about the scratches he had left on the floor.

"Don't move," I warned him. "I'll clean this up after breakfast."

My husband nodded obediently.

The system's voice rang out.

"Husband's favorability has increased to 80."

I blinked.

At this rate, getting everyone's favorability to 100 didn't seem difficult at all.

Suddenly, the pounding stopped.

Silence filled the apartment.

Liam walked toward the door and placed his ear against it.

"They're gone."

"Good," I said. "Then we can finally have breakfast in peace."

I turned around and froze.

There was blood everywhere.

A trail of bloody footprints stretched from the entrance all the way into the living room.

My eyelid twitched.

"Who made this mess?"

Nobody answered.

Penny quietly raised her hand.

"Mom... I think I did."

I looked down at her tiny feet.

They were covered in blood.

I immediately picked her up.

"Bathroom. Now."

Penny giggled as I carried her away.

Liam followed behind us, trying not to laugh.

After cleaning Penny's feet and mopping the floor for the third time that morning, I finally sat down.

"Listen carefully," I told all three of them. "No more blood on the floor. If you want to fight, do it outside."

My husband looked at me seriously.

"Outside isn't safe."

"Then don't fight."

He immediately nodded.

"Okay."

The system sounded again.

"Family favorability has increased."

I smiled proudly.

I was starting to think I had found the secret to this game.

Be strict with the son.

Love the daughter.

Take care of the husband.

And, most importantly, keep the house clean.

It was almost exactly like managing my real family.

But just as I relaxed, Liam suddenly asked, "Mom, do you know what happens to players who enter this house?"

"They probably get scared and leave," I answered casually.

Liam stared at me.

"No. We eat them."

I paused.

Penny giggled.

My husband remained silent.

I looked between the three of them.

"That's not funny."

Liam's expression became strangely serious.

"I'm not joking."

He pointed toward the basement door.

"There are hundreds of names down there."

I frowned.

"Why would you have a list of names in the basement?"

Liam didn't answer.

Instead, Penny tugged on my sleeve.

"Mom, don't go downstairs."

"Why?"

Her smile disappeared.

"Because that's where Dad keeps the players."

My husband suddenly stood up.

"Enough."

His voice was cold enough to make the entire room fall silent.

I stared at him.

"What exactly is in the basement?"

He didn't answer.

I crossed my arms.

"I'm asking you a question."

He lowered his head.

"Things you don't need to see."

That answer immediately irritated me.

"I'm your wife. If something is inside my house, I need to know about it."

I marched toward the basement door.

My husband rushed after me.

"Honey, please."

"Move."

He stood in front of the door.

"You don't want to see what's down there."

I glared at him.

"Then clean it up."

He froze.

"What?"

"Whatever disgusting thing you're hiding down there, clean it up. I'm not living above a filthy basement."

Liam covered his face.

Penny started giggling.

My husband looked completely helpless.

Then the system spoke.

"Husband's favorability has increased to 90."

I smiled.

"See? We're making progress."

My husband stared at me as if he couldn't understand how I could possibly be this calm.

I opened the basement door.

A freezing wind rushed past me.

The lights flickered on one by one.

Rows of glass containers filled the room.

Inside them were strange black shadows that looked almost human.

At the far end of the basement stood a massive wall covered with photographs.

Every photograph showed a different player.

Some were crying.

Some were screaming.

And some were already dead.

I stared at the wall in silence.

Then I noticed something that made my blood run cold.

There were exactly one hundred photographs.

The newest photograph was mine.

Under it was written:

"MOTHER — FINAL BOSS COMPATIBILITY: UNKNOWN."

I slowly turned around.

My husband was standing at the top of the stairs.

His stitches were opening again.

But this time, I wasn't looking at the blood.

I was looking at his face.

He looked terrified.

"Honey," he whispered, "please don't hate us."

For the first time since entering this game, I wondered whether I had really been playing a parenting game at all.