EMDL 01

EMDL

Posted by george.adam, Released on October 22, 2025

Episode 1

There was a haunted house on Abe Street.

It must have been grand once, but now, with every window shattered and the walls covered in mold, the decaying mansion served as the neighborhood kids’ test of courage.

At least, until a certain woman appeared a few weeks ago.

“Get lost, you idiots!”

Even in the chilly weather, the ragged woman — wearing nothing but a thin summer dress and wild, tangled hair — grabbed a broom and drove the children away.

“Eek!”
“The black witch!”

“…Haa.”

Céline sighed as she watched the children run off in terror.

They didn’t know she was actually protecting them from the curse that lurked in the house.

Not that it really mattered whether they lived or died.

But she couldn’t bear to let innocent lives be snuffed out before her eyes.

Just as she was about to move to a sunny spot in the yard—

“Ah!”

A searing pain shot through her ankle. Céline screamed and looked down.

A viper was coiling around her leg — and sank its fangs in a second time.

“Aaaghhh!”

Céline clutched her ankle and rolled onto the ground. The pain was so intense she couldn’t even think.

The agony soon consumed her entire body, and after thrashing in torment for what felt like hours, darkness finally took her.

No one ever found her body.

It was Céline Hunt’s eighty-fourth death.

“Haah—!”

A man jolted awake in the darkness, sweat running cold down his pale skin.

“That dream… again.”

Leonhardt Bernui — the young wolf of the North — rose from bed and walked to the window.

The night was still, not a single bird crying, but his heart pounded violently in his chest. He knew if he fell asleep again, she would appear — Céline, dying all over again.

He closed his eyes.

The image of the woman clutching her snake-bitten ankle, screaming, was burned into his mind.

—Aaaaghhh!

Her face drained of color, her breath shuddering to a stop…

“Urgh!”

He gagged, grabbing a glass of cool water a servant had left by his bedside.

I’m going insane.

It had been thirty-nine days since he’d slept properly.

Every night, the same dream — the same woman, Céline, dying in unbearable pain.

And what terrified him most wasn’t watching her die.

It was feeling everything she felt — the pain, the fear, the helplessness — as though it were his own.

At first, she had merely screamed in terror.

But night after night, her mind had deteriorated, until she was cursing her own name — Céline — as she died.

The heir to the Grand Duchy grew paler and thinner by the day. Neither the best physicians nor the empire’s greatest magicians could offer a cure.

“I have to find her…”

Two weeks ago, Leonhardt had ordered the Bernui intelligence network to search for the woman from his dreams.

But the empire was vast, and the name Céline was common.

Every woman they brought him had been a stranger, and his patience was running thin.

Some began to whisper that the woman didn’t even exist — that she was a delusion brought on by exhaustion.

Leonhardt silenced them with two words:

“I know.”

His instincts — honed by years of battle — told him the woman was real.

And Leonhardt Bernui’s instincts had never been wrong.

“…You haven’t slept again, my lord.”

A quiet voice spoke from behind him, accompanied by the faintest rustle of movement.

Leonhardt turned. A Bernui spy knelt before him.

“We found her.”

Leonhardt’s expression didn’t flicker. He’d been disappointed too many times before.

“Age twenty. Full name Céline Hunt. Daughter of a fallen noble family. She lives alone on the outskirts of the capital. Her family died in an accident years ago.”

Leonhardt nodded. The description matched perfectly.

“You brought her, I assume? I’ll see her myself.”

“That’s… the problem.”

The spy grimaced.

“No matter what we do, we can’t bring her out. She just… disappears.”

Leonhardt’s gaze sharpened. His intuition stirred — this was no ordinary dream, and she was no ordinary woman.

“I’ll go myself,” he said calmly. “Father’s letter to Prince Ricardo will serve as a good excuse.”

“My lord!”

The spy raised his head in alarm.

“You know as well as I do — that woman and her house are both… unnatural. She might be a black witch!”

Leonhardt chuckled.

“‘Unnatural,’ is it? That’s what people say about me.”

“My lord, please—!”

“Even if she is a witch,” he said coolly, glancing at the sword resting by his bed, “it’s my duty to cut her down.”

His eyes softened slightly as they fell on the weapon — Lashire, the blue-flamed blade that nullified all magic and inflicted unbearable agony on its foes. Only Leonhardt could wield it.

“I’m not doubting your strength…” the spy murmured weakly.

“Then don’t worry.”

The spy fell silent. When Leonhardt made up his mind, not even the Grand Duke himself could dissuade him.

The next morning, Leonhardt Bernui rode toward the capital — alone.

“Die, live, die, live… die.”

Céline plucked the petals from a daisy one by one, muttering gloomily. Once again, it seemed, she was fated to die today.

How will it happen this time?

She tugged on a pair of thick boots that even a viper’s fangs would struggle to pierce. She picked flowers carefully, wary of bees.

She didn’t light fires — afraid of burning to death again — and always wore gloves to avoid infection.

And yet, despite all her precautions, Céline would die again before the day was over.

Because she was the heroine of the horror game Céline’s Nightmare.

A tear fell from her eye — one she hadn’t realized she still had left to shed.

I’m so tired…

Was it such a sin to love horror games and movies?

Céline’s Nightmare had been recommended by a friend who knew her taste.

The story was simple but addictive: a cute protagonist trapped in a cursed mansion, suffering one brutal “dead ending” after another. Céline had played nonstop until she finally reached the first happy ending — and was about to start again for the “true ending,” when—

She woke up as Céline herself.

The first thing she had to learn in this new life was how to die.

Today marked exactly forty-one days since she’d fallen into the game.

She’d died countless times.

Five deaths the first day. Three the second.

On the third, terrified of dying again, she lay still all day — which turned out to be a terrible idea.

Her limbs had stiffened, and she’d suffocated slowly, just like in the game.

Every death was agony.

But what terrified her more than the pain was the thought that this might be the easiest part.

She was twenty now — still in the “tutorial” phase.

At twenty-five, when the real story began, the deaths would only get worse.

Céline shivered.

If only she could save her progress like in the game.

But she never truly “respawned.” She simply woke up — her body still aching, the pain lingering from every previous death.

Yesterday’s snake bite still throbbed. The burns from the fire before that still stung.

“I’m immortal! Immortal Céline!”

She laughed weakly to herself.

Lately, talking out loud was the only thing keeping her sane.

Not that anyone was around to hear her —

Except for them.

Céline frowned.

A few days ago, dark figures in black masks — ones she didn’t remember from the game — had appeared out of nowhere. They’d captured her and tried to drag her out of the mansion.

Honestly, she’d felt… hopeful.

To finally escape the death trap!

But that hope was crushed when she found herself, bound and dazed, back inside the mansion moments later.

Just like every other time she’d tried to run.

Are those people part of the tutorial, too?

She regretted skipping half the tutorial out of boredom. Still, unless they killed her themselves, she didn’t care who they were.

These days, her every thought was consumed by one question: how to die less painfully.

The hope of escaping the game — or ending the endless cycle of death — had vanished long ago.

Every time she tried, she only died worse.

Céline shivered in her thin dress as the wind bit at her skin. If she didn’t go inside soon, she’d probably die of pneumonia.

—Clack!

The sound of the door opening froze her in place.