Chapter 030 - Eerie Night Fair 02

  Night. A night so black it felt bottomless. No stars. No moon. Just an endless void stretching in every direction.

  The only break in the darkness came from the amusement park ahead. A riot of flashing lights and neon glow pulsed within, painting the illusion of life and excitement.

  But the entrance told another story.

  The iron gates stood rusted and crooked, their once-sturdy bars wrapped in strings of flickering, half-dead bulbs. A gust of wind sent them buzzing erratically, casting jagged shadows over the pavement.

  To the right of the gate, a giant doll loomed. A mascot of some kind—its shape unmistakably reminiscent of a certain cartoon mouse, the female one with the pink polka-dotted bow. But something about it was... wrong.

  Its eyelashes—especially one—were grotesquely long, curling outward in an unnatural, exaggerated way.

  A spotlight from below bathed its face in a sickly glow, stretching its smile into something that wasn’t cheerful at all. The grin, meant to be friendly, now looked eerily wide. Unsettling. Like it knew something I didn’t.

  Its hands were frozen in an odd pose—one with a single finger raised, the other stretched wide open, as if halfway through some cryptic gesture.

  Below it, a weathered sign hung crookedly from rusted chains, swaying gently with the breeze. The paint was chipped, the letters barely legible.

  Three words:

  LOST PARADISE.

  I stared at the doll for a long moment. A prickling unease crawled up my spine.

  Then—

  A sudden tap on my shoulder.

  “Why aren’t you going in?”

  I turned sharply.

  The speaker was a girl—Contestant No. 25. She had the easy confidence of an athlete, her stance relaxed yet ready to move at a moment’s notice.

  “Wind?” I raised an eyebrow.

  She mirrored my expression. “Huh. So you actually remembered? I was joking when I said it before.” A grin spread across her face. “Guess I should introduce myself properly. Just call me ‘Gale.’ No clue why the system assigned me that name, but I like to think it’s because I was meant to ride the storm, not get swept away by it.”

  I nodded. “Sylas.”

  She tilted her head, considering. “Sounds like something out of an old legend.”

  I smirked. “More like the kind of name that belongs in a tragedy.”

  I wasn’t sure why I said that. It just slipped out.

  Gale didn’t seem to notice my hesitation. Instead, she clapped a hand on my shoulder in a casual, almost brotherly way. “Come on. I saw a few familiar faces inside. Look—No. 33, No. 34, and that old guy’s with them too.”

  Together, we stepped past the rusted gates and into the park’s dazzling glow.

  To my surprise, the interior was pristine.

  The wide, straight roads were spotless—not a single scrap of litter. The rides—carousel, surf simulators, bumper cars, pirate ship, roller coaster—stood gleaming as if they’d been built yesterday. The contrast between the ruinous entrance and the near-immaculate park was jarring.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  As we wandered deeper, I noticed a small group gathered around a machine. A vending machine? No. A cotton candy stand.

  No. 137 was among them.

  So was Elliot.

  At first, I thought he was just drawing a crowd—wouldn’t be surprising, considering his face—but as I got closer, I realized the truth.

  Elliot wasn’t flirting.

  He was making cotton candy.

  Methodically. Patiently twirling the stick as wisps of sugar wrapped around it, forming a soft, fluffy cloud of blue.

  I blinked.

  “…?”

  Elliot caught my stare and smirked. “Sylas, want one?”

  He lifted a freshly spun cotton candy, its airy strands still warm.

  Before I could respond, No. 137’s eyes lit up. She darted forward, snatched the candy, and bounded over to me, pressing it into my hands.

  “It’s really sweet!” she chirped. “This one was supposed to be mine, but I’m giving it to you. Aren’t I the best?”

  I stared at her.

  Then at the candy.

  “Thanks.”

  I huffed a quiet laugh, taking a bite. It melted instantly on my tongue—soft, airy, sweet.

  For a brief moment, I glanced toward the void beyond the park, where darkness stretched endlessly. Then back at the lights, the movement, the warmth of the people around me.

  I sighed. “Yeah. Really sweet.”

  No. 137, satisfied, scurried back to hover over the machine, eyes full of anticipation for her next turn.

  The moment felt strangely still. Like the last breath before a storm.

  A fragile truce, unspoken but understood.

  The game hadn’t truly begun yet.

  Then—

  Footsteps.

  Heavy. Slow. Muffled.

  I turned.

  A massive stuffed bear was climbing down from a high tower.

  It was enormous—its plush body absurdly oversized, its movements awkward and clumsy, almost cartoonishly exaggerated. Large, round ears bobbed with every step, its fluffy arms swinging slightly out of sync with its body.

  As it walked, a cheerful, robotic voice rang out:

  “Happy! Happy! Are you happy?!”

  No. 137’s face lit up with pure excitement.

  She looked seconds away from running straight toward it.

  I instinctively grabbed her arm, holding her back.

  The bear drew closer, still chanting its phrase, still smiling.

  Then it stopped.

  And curtsied.

  A deep, elegant bow, like a princess at a ball.

  But the moment it straightened—

  Something snapped.

  Its head dropped.

  Just like that.

  A clean, unnatural severance.

  For a split second, the body stood motionless, headless. Then—

  Blood.

  A dark, wet eruption from its exposed neck.

  The plush fabric soaked through instantly, turning a deep, glistening red. The detached head tumbled forward, rolling across the pavement—leaving a smeared, bloodied trail in its wake.

  It stopped less than a meter from our feet.

  The face—still grinning—twitched.

  And then, with a mouth full of blood, it spoke.

  “Happy! Happy! Are you happy?!”

  The flickering lights of its eyes dimmed, but the voice kept going—softer now.

  Lower.

  Darker.

  “My dear…”

  A whisper, seeping into my bones.

  “Are you happy?”