Hotel Of Paradise Was It?

Author: Tower of hell

The 45th floor.

I like the number 45.

When you enter, you’re immediately thrown into a beautiful scene. Everything is sea-inspired, beach-inspired—an enormous aquatic paradise that looks almost too beautiful to be real.

The moment you step inside, cold water reaches your waist.

The room is enormous. Not just a room, actually. It stretches across an entire football field, decorated like a prehistoric jungle swallowed by a river. Sand covers the bottom beneath your feet. Water stretches in every direction. Islands rise from it, scattered so far away that you don’t even want to imagine what might be waiting between them.

And there are mermaids.

A lot of mermaids.

They are tied down throughout the water, with only their heads emerging above the surface. They look almost peaceful at first. Beautiful little islands of temptation in the middle of an enormous wilderness.

You can only be two people at a time.

The place begins almost innocently: beautiful women, beautiful water, beautiful scenery. But the deeper you go, the more seductive it becomes. Red-haired mermaids. Orange-haired ones. Blondes. Black-haired women. Asian women. Every kind of beauty imaginable, each one carefully placed somewhere in this enormous underwater world.

They are breathtaking.

Their beauty is almost unnatural—full figures, narrow waists, wide hips and thighs, bodies designed to catch your attention before you even realize you’ve stopped thinking about survival.

And that’s the point.

Every island hides a treasure.

You have to explore them. Search them. Find whatever has been hidden there. Some treasures are pearls. Others are strange objects, valuables, things you could never predict finding in a place like this.

Some mermaids are tied upside down, almost like worms dangling from a fisherman’s line.

Others are submerged deeper in the water.

The only real challenge at first seems to be reaching the islands.

But the water is alive.

Leeches cling to anything that passes close enough. Hungry fish swim around your legs, waiting for an opportunity to bite. Snakes move silently beneath the surface. Insects crawl through the vegetation. Nothing is harmless.

You are allowed only one pocket knife.

That’s it.

No weapons. No modern equipment. No technology. Nothing that makes you feel human in the modern sense.

You’re supposed to hunt.

You’re supposed to make your own food.

You’re supposed to sleep whenever you somehow manage to find a safe place.

You’re supposed to survive.

And you’re supposed to last three days.

Three days.

That’s all.

You also have another condition: at least half of the women have to remain alive by the end. But you can definitely kill the other half for your pleasure. Infact you might not find any food and only have them as the last source of food. (Hhehehehehe)

If you fail, the water begins to rise.

Higher.

And higher.

And higher.

Eventually there is nowhere left to stand.

You drown, and so do the women you failed to save.

So the real challenge isn’t simply surviving the floor.

It’s surviving while keeping other people alive in a place where absolutely nothing wants you to succeed.

Because nothing in this room wants your survival.

Not the fish.

Not the snakes.

Not the insects.

Not the jungle.

And certainly not the women.

They have been tortured by men before being placed here. They have been taught that anyone who enters their world is an enemy. A stranger must die—or they themselves will be tortured by whoever came after him.

And then you finally reach the islands.

You see them properly.

You see the mermaids.

And that’s where the real problem begins.

Because after hours of cold water, hunger, fear, exhaustion, and constant danger, you’re suddenly confronted with the most beautiful creatures you’ve ever seen.

They are seductive in a way that feels almost supernatural.

And you know you have only three days.

That knowledge gets inside your head.

You begin thinking about them instead of the water.

Instead of the snakes.

Instead of the rising tide.

Instead of the food you still haven’t found.

Some men become completely carried away by the temptation. They become obsessed with exploring the islands, with getting closer to the mermaids, with discovering what each one hides.

The desire becomes another predator in the room.

And that’s where some of them lose.

Because the floor isn’t asking whether you’re strong enough to fight a snake.

It’s asking whether you’re disciplined enough to walk away from something you desperately want.

The mermaids themselves are part of the trap.

They may look helpless because they’re tied down, but the moment one is given an opportunity, everything can change. She might be terrified. She might be pretending. She might attack. She might have been instructed to lure you closer before turning against you.

You don’t know.

And that’s what makes them dangerous.

The temptation is almost cruel.

You see a beautiful woman trapped in the water and every instinct tells you to approach her, to free her, to investigate her, to get closer.

But freedom might be exactly what she has been waiting for.

And once she is free, she may become your worst enemy.

She has been instructed to torture anyone who enters their world while keeping them alive until the three-day timeline ends. If she succeeds, she earns her freedom.

At least, that’s what you’re told.

Maybe it’s a lie.

Maybe she doesn’t get freedom.

Maybe nobody does.

Maybe the entire thing exists simply to make you believe that the promise of pleasure is worth risking your life for.

And from a man’s point of view, that’s the cruelest part.

These creatures may not even be women in the ordinary sense, but they are presented as the most stunning, breathtaking, irresistible beings imaginable.

And you only have three days.

Three days feels impossibly short when you’re standing in front of something you’ve wanted your entire life.

So some men stop thinking intelligently.

They let lust become stronger than fear.

They let fascination become stronger than survival.

They convince themselves they can have both.

They can’t.

Because this floor was never designed to give you what you want.

It was designed to make you want it badly enough to destroy yourself trying to get it.

In fact, the floors always start strong.

They start safe.

They start beautiful.

They start as a place where you can feed your lust, your desires, your hunger, your dick—whatever you came there looking for.

That’s the trick.

The first thing the Hotel of Paradise gives you is exactly what you want.

It makes you comfortable.

It makes you greedy.

It makes you think you’ve finally found heaven.

But these floors aren’t about pleasure.

They’re about killing you.

They’re about killing a man and taking revenge on him.

And the higher you go, the more obvious that becomes.

Each floor gets worse.

Each floor becomes more like hell.

More responsibility. More fear. More burden. More things that can go wrong.

The paradise slowly disappears, piece by piece, until all that’s left is the realization that you’ve been walking deeper into your own execution.

And somewhere behind the screens, there is a woman watching.

She’s sitting comfortably while the entire hotel unfolds in front of her.

She watches every man enter.

She watches him become fascinated.

She watches him become greedy.

She watches him make the first stupid decision.

And then another.

And another.

She doesn’t have to kill him herself.

That’s the beauty of the game.

She just watches how stupidly it will take him to die.

She watches him choose pleasure when he should choose survival.

She watches him trust something beautiful when everything around him is screaming that it is dangerous.

She watches him become so convinced that he can beat the game that he forgets the game was designed around his weaknesses.

The Hotel of Paradise doesn’t simply kill men.

It gives them exactly what they want first.

Then it watches what they’re willing to destroy themselves for.

And so on, your flesh will become food for every creature in this tower of hell.

Piece by piece, floor by floor, everything you thought was paradise turns against you.

The higher you climb, the less human you become.

Until eventually, there is nothing left of the man who entered the Hotel of Paradise—only another body for the creatures below.

Fuck men.