The Crimson Game Chapter 4

A mechanical dog hopped ahead, leading the way.

Entering the kitchen, a nauseating stench assaulted my senses.

I covered my nose and stepped back.

Red liquid boiled in pots, bubbling ominously.

Meat-like substances rolled in the roiling liquid.

Eggshells and rotting vegetables littered the floor.

In the kitchen corners, I occasionally spotted severed fingers and organs.

"This is our kitchen. Your job is to take the customer's order and place it on the kitchen counter. When you hear a 'ding,' you can collect the corresponding dishes from the window."

The mechanical dog finished speaking and hopped out of the kitchen.

I looked down at my name tag.

"Tables 6-7"

The moment I saw my first customer, I knew escaping this abnormal space was impossible.

Because the customer in front of me really was a fucking ghost.