"Is this the end? I can’t accept it… I’ve never even held a girl’s hand. To die a virgin is utterly humiliating—even as a ghost, I’d be looked down upon."

Realizing escape was impossible, Dr. Chen resigned himself to fate. Once the Crimson Robe finished off the ghost doctor, he would be next.

He’d once dreamed of a simple life: a wife, children, a warm home. Was even that denied him? He’d failed his ancestors, failed his late mother—never to visit her grave cradling a grandson.

He still remembered holding a girl’s hand in middle school. The softness lingered vividly. To die carrying this regret… Dr. Chen’s heart ached with unwillingness.

"Enough. Even as a ghost, she’d enslave me anyway. Might as well stand firm once! I refuse to die with regrets!"

The Crimson Robe stood with her back to him. After crushing the ghost doctor’s skull, she kept stabbing his body relentlessly with sharp nails.

Dr. Chen took a deep breath. Accepting death, his fear oddly faded. He lifted his injured leg and staggered step by step behind her.

After dozens of stabs, the Crimson Robe turned—ready to kill the one she cherished most.

"AAAAHHHHH!!!"

Seeing her deathly pale face swing toward him, Dr. Chen roared, stepped forward, cupped her ice-cold cheeks, closed his eyes, and kissed her.

Losing his virginity was impossible now—so he’d surrender his first kiss. The only one in the room… that girl. Wait—no! A female ghost.

Ignoring the empty sockets beneath her bangs, she was strikingly beautiful: delicate nose, refined chin. Though draped in crimson robes, her figure remained faintly visible.

The crimson sash cinched her waist, accentuating slender curves and full chest. Anywhere, she’d be a classical beauty capable of captivating all.

Since death was certain, why not fulfill this last wish? Unease flickered, but closing his eyes helped—he imagined her whole.

His lips met cold softness. Certain he’d kissed right, he recklessly slipped his tongue in, offering a trace of warmth to her millennia-frozen body.

If a girl’s lips tasted like strawberries, this was strawberry ice cream—numbing his mouth instantly.

"Mmph?"

He’d expected a fatal strike. But silence lingered. Curious, he opened his eyes: empty sockets streamed bloody tears; within the void, a faint red glow flickered.

Her wildly thrashing hair stilled, settling gently behind the Crimson Robe.

They stared—one wide-eyed, the other hollow—for a long, silent moment.

"Mmmph! Mmmph!" The kiss had calmed her. Dr. Chen, stunned, froze. What now?

His hands still cupped her cheeks. Should he… let them drift lower?

Just then, the red glow vanished. Calmly, she raised a hand—sharp nails pressed against his throat.

Not stabbing. A warning: *Let go, or die.*

"Mmmph!" He grunted, trying to pull away—but couldn’t.

Because… damn it, his tongue was frozen stuck!

Like licking an ice pop in summer or a frozen pole in winter. Her mouth was glacial; his saliva had iced over, gluing their tongues together. Pulling back sent searing pain through his tongue, as if torn raw.

"Wahhh! Wahhh!"

Neck pressure tightened. He braced hands on her shoulders and shoved backward with all his might.

Life over pain—he chose life. With a desperate heave—"AAAAHHHHH!"—he broke free. Cost? A layer of skin peeled from his tongue.

"Should’ve… kept my tongue… to myself," he mumbled thickly. Tongue throbbing, he dared not close his mouth or retract it—touching the roof would be… excruciatingly painful.

He panted, tongue lolling like a dog’s.

…

The Crimson Robe stood motionless. A finger brushed the moisture—or ice crystals—on her lips. Black strands swirled to veil her face. She drifted backward through the doorway, vanishing into darkness.

"Gone? Why…? She’s not killing me?"