The Haunted Cinema

The cursed items left by the deceased were the key tools actors relied on for survival within the horror films. Of course, there were rare exceptions, such as Edith, whose very being had undergone transformation. Such changes came with steep costs and challenges, but in return, they offered unparalleled survival capabilities. When Allen acquired the Soul-Summoning Talisman, the script had explicitly warned him: any cursed item, once used, required a cooldown of thirty minutes before it could be activated again. This rule was absolute—violating it would instantly awaken the curse, triggering disastrous consequences.

This limitation made it impossible for a single person to exploit a cursed item repeatedly in a short time, avoiding payment with death tokens equivalent to their film wages. For Allen, a single-use item like the talisman was far from sufficient. Otherwise, why would he need as many as seven of them? Even so, each use required a significant amount of death tokens. Worse still, he lacked the fifty tokens needed to claim full ownership of the talisman.

Ownership signified that the cursed item would belong exclusively to its holder, making it impossible for others to take it without permission. Furthermore, owners could lease or sell such items through contracts mediated by the Ghost Cinema itself—agreements that were inviolable. Pricing, whether for rentals or sales, was left entirely to the owner's discretion, with no upper limit imposed. Naturally, such dealings depended on finding willing buyers.

Had Allen possessed fifty death tokens, he could have secured the talisman as his property. He might even have negotiated trades, lending it to others for use in "Ghost Festival 3" in exchange for more potent survival tools. But with only thirty-one tokens at his disposal, his options were limited.

In the following days, Allen sought advice from Julian and others, delving into survival strategies and the nuances of cursed item usage.

"When exactly does using a cursed item deduct death tokens?" he asked.

The answer was straightforward: any instance when the item appeared on-screen. However, this didn't mean actors could exploit the system freely when off-camera. Simply put, if a cursed item was concealed—on one's person, in a bag, or anywhere out of the camera's view—it wouldn't incur costs. Even mundane objects, like Delia's wooden comb, were bound by this rule. If they remained hidden, their powers stayed dormant. But the moment they surfaced, the clock started ticking, with costs measured per second of use.

Moreover, the stronger an item's survival capabilities, the greater the risk of curse awakening. Surviving in a horror film was no easy feat.

Yet no matter how terrifying these films became, the actors had no choice but to participate. Refusal meant certain death. For Allen, this scenario was all too vivid: should he fail to enter the screening room within the designated time, he would meet a gruesome fate. His head and body would separate once more, his torso splitting into mangled pieces as though cleaved by that initial chainsaw. This time, however, his consciousness wouldn't remain intact—death would be final.

Over the next few days, a brief lull settled in. Meanwhile, the cinema began promoting its upcoming releases. Posters and synopses for new films appeared, including life-sized character portraits for the more challenging productions. Among the July releases was Allen's next project.

The title: The Room of Confinement.

The cast: Hank, Cheryl, Ivan, Allen.

Release date: July 12, 6:30 PM.

Runtime: 135 minutes.

It was important to note that the runtime didn't reflect the actors' actual experience. Scripts often included blank periods, such as, "Three days later." While these interludes might be uneventful, actors were still required to perform through them. Such moments offered opportunities to explore dangerous areas, potentially earning additional death tokens. After all, base wages were rarely enough to cover survival costs.

"The Room of Confinement?" Allen's heart sank at the sight of the title. Another horror film—and its release was scheduled a day before Ghost Festival 3.

The dimly lit first floor of the cinema was shrouded in shadow, with only a few cold, blue lights illuminating the bloody red lettering of the schedule board. Allen stood alone in the vast hall, its emptiness pressing against him.

From the darkness, a familiar voice called out.

"Allen! You're here too?"

Turning, he saw Hank approaching with a flashlight, followed by Edith and Nathan.

"You're up early," Edith said with a soft smile, her natural grace making her all the more captivating. Over the past few days, Allen had noticed that Edith smiled more than anyone else in their group. Even the terrors of the Ghost Cinema couldn't dampen her optimistic spirit.

"Yeah, I couldn't sleep knowing the schedule would be posted today," Allen replied with a faint smile of his own. "But is it just you three?"

"Most people are fixated on Ghost Festival 3," Hank said, his gaze shifting to the schedule board. His eyes lingered on The Room of Confinement, where his name topped the cast list—a clear indication that he would play the lead.

By the time July arrived, only three films without prior promotion appeared on the schedule. Apart from The Confined Room, in which Hank was cast as the lead, two other films, Sinister Form and Room 1404, were also listed. The protagonists of these films were Job and Donna, respectively.

"Job's new film, huh," White Edith remarked, her gaze lingering on the title Sinister Form. "The lower difficulty of films with shorter promotional periods means Job should manage just fine. But, given what happened with Delia, we still need to remind her to stay vigilant. It seems she's the sole cast member here; the rest are likely newcomers."

"Job and Delia are worlds apart," Nathan said confidently. "She's replacing Delia in Ghost Festival 3, which doesn't surprise me in the least."

"Is Miss Job really that impressive?" Allen asked, recalling the aloof woman he barely exchanged words with despite growing more familiar with everyone else.

Hank chuckled. "Funny that we haven't brought her up with you. Her situation is… unique."

"You'll find out eventually. Let's leave it at that for now," White Edith teased with a light laugh before asking, "Is the young lady not coming down with you? Or did she ask you to check for her?"

"Not exactly… She doesn't seem too concerned. Besides, she doesn't have any new films in early July. On the other hand, our big brother has Room 1404. I'll let him know later—he drank way too much last night and is probably still asleep."

The dining hall provided not only meals but also an unlimited supply of cigarettes and alcohol available around the clock. For the men trapped in this macabre place, these vices became indispensable outlets for their frustrations, second only to more primal forms of release.

After confirming the screening schedule, Allen returned to his fourth-floor room. Adjusting his internal clock was now a priority. As for the upcoming horror film, he had ample time to prepare; worrying prematurely would accomplish nothing.

The next morning arrived—or at least, what the clock claimed to be morning.

"Good morning, everyone."

Despite the greeting, Allen felt no sense of a true morning. The Ghost Cinema lacked natural sunlight, relying instead on dim, dreary lighting that made every hour seem like eternal night.

Allen noticed Martin seated early at the dining table. As he stepped in, Eamonn approached, throwing an arm over Allen's shoulder while holding a lit cigarette. "I've checked the new horror film schedule. The young lady doesn't have anything in early July, and my film, thankfully, isn't too challenging."

"Yeah, this time, I'll be with Hank," Allen replied.

"As your senior, here's a piece of advice," Eamonn said, lowering his voice and pulling Allen into a corner of the dining hall, far from any eavesdroppers. "Hank's an easygoing guy. Build a good rapport with him—it might save your life. People like Carol and Nathan, on the other hand, prioritize their own interests and rarely consider others."

"And if someone dies—though we're not trying to jinx anything, the odds aren't exactly low—be swift and discreet in claiming any cursed artifacts they leave behind. Who's going to know?"

"Once inside, I'll adapt to the situation," Allen said calmly. "Though I haven't spent much time with Hank, he seems like someone willing to help if he recognizes you as an ally."

Allen wasn't without his own strategies. He had meticulously considered various survival tactics for horror films, delving even deeper than Eamonn's suggestions.

Hank, a veteran of this cursed thirteenth cinema, far surpassed the likes of Charles and Delia in experience. His survival methods were undoubtedly formidable. Like everyone else, he surely had hidden cards up his sleeve, a necessary safeguard in this deadly game. His genial demeanor and natural sociability made him the perfect candidate for Julian to assign as the newcomers' guide—a role that softened the rigid and impersonal nature of Nathan's approach.