Jiang Qianyu sat in the taxi, propping her cheek as she watched the scenery blur past the window. The sensation was strangely surreal—like her vision had been forcibly split in two, as if she were two separate people. Even her physical senses felt divided.
It was almost as if her skull held two brains and her chest beat with two hearts.
At first, it had been agonizing. After all, her consciousness had been violently severed.
Calling it "split personality" would be an understatement. When she first controlled this puppet, her head felt ready to explode.
Now, accustomed to it, the discomfort had eased.
The puppet’s body differed starkly from a living human’s: ice-cold, no body heat. Beyond smell, sight, and hearing, taste and touch were dulled; pain was utterly absent.
Even if someone twisted her head off and kicked it like a ball, she wouldn’t feel a single trace of pain.
These differences constantly reminded her—this was a puppet. In the Nightwatchers’ terms, she was "aberrant." Less politely? A monster.
She pinched her arm. Cold, smooth skin. Beneath it, rigid wood—like human bones.
Pulling her black-and-white Lolita-style dress tighter, Jiang Qianyu slowly closed her eyes.
She reviewed the mission details, her focus split between puppet and main body. She’d reread the Nightwatchers’ file endlessly, yet found little useful—not entirely her fault. The document was absurdly vague.
No matter. She only needed the gist. Details could wait until she arrived.
Half an hour slipped by. The driver’s voice pulled her back.
“Little miss, we’re here. Is your mom coming down?” He parked and turned toward the backseat.
The moment he looked, his gaze locked with hers—dark crimson slit pupils.
Utterly inhuman. Eyes only a wild beast would have.
A chill shot down his spine. Beyond the eerie eyes, her skin was sickly pale, bloodless.
“Thank you, uncle. How much?” Jiang Qianyu pulled a bill from her pocket.
“Th-thirty-five.”
“No need to stare. Just colored contacts.” Expressionless, she handed him a fifty.
She took the change, pushed the door open, and stepped out.
Standing before Tomorrow Apartments, she gazed up at the eerie seven- or eight-story building.
Inside the car, the driver glanced back. For no reason, the thought struck him: *This girl doesn’t feel… alive.*
A shiver ran through him. He shifted gears and sped away.
If he remembered right, this was the place. Five deaths in one month. Rumors of a vengeful spirit haunting the halls. Few dared approach—day or night—especially out here, deep in the suburban outskirts.
Tomorrow Apartments stood dilapidated. Once housing factory workers near the industrial park, it now sat nearly abandoned after the park relocated.
Jiang Qianyu looked up. Most of the building vanished into shadow. Few lights glowed inside. Sparse residents? Or no one dared switch them on after dark?
The courtyard seemed decorative. Both rusted gates hung wide open.
She stepped onto the moss-slicked stone path and entered.
Silence. Absolute.
The building was worse than imagined. Peeling paint, crumbling plaster. Nearly every unit had an old AC unit mounted outside, rusted brackets groaning under their weight.
Windows featured deep blue, outdated glass.
Some balconies held potted plants—signs of elderly residents. Jiang Qianyu noted a detail: first and second floors also had clusters of pots.
But they were withered, rotting from neglect.
Only two explanations: residents fled in haste… or passed suddenly.
Yet someone should’ve cleared them. Even if abandoned, only one or two households would do that. Here, five or six units showed the same decay—and surely more above.
What drove them to leave everything behind?
As she pondered, a prickle ran down her spine. *Someone was watching.*
She looked up. A middle-aged woman stood at a fourth-floor window, staring fixedly. Seven seconds passed. The woman yanked the window open and tossed a trash bag down without looking.
*Thud!*
It landed in the weeds, barely two meters away.
The window slammed shut. Curtains snapped closed.
Jiang Qianyu ignored the rudeness.
The whole building reeked of decay and silence—an eerie chill raising goosebumps. Even the residents felt… off.
She glanced at the trash. Inside: partially burned talisman papers and ash.
“For exorcising ghosts?”
She didn’t linger. Didn’t touch it. Stepped into the building.
Even as just a puppet, a faint unease crept in. The atmosphere whispered: *This place is unclean.* Malevolent presence lurking in the dark, watching her every move.
But only unease. No fear.
She owed that calm to last night’s monster.
The hallway glowed dimly. A faint *drip… drip… drip…* echoed.
“Little girl,” a raspy, aged voice called from the entrance window. “So late. Who’re you looking for? Do you live here?”
The old man turned his face toward her. Glass blurred his features.
Only one thing stood clear: his skin was unnaturally pale.
Pale as paper.
