With the light gone, darkness swallowed everything once more. Dr. Chen fumbled for his phone, fingers trembling, and lit up the screen.

The glow revealed a pale face—right before his eyes!

"Holy crap!" The sudden ghostly visage jolted Dr. Chen so hard he nearly dropped his phone.

"..." Crimson Robe remained silent, the electrotherapy device still strapped to her head. Her hollow eyes locked onto him. Deep in her sockets, blood welled—a single drop swirling at the corner, on the verge of falling.

Dr. Chen knew: when Crimson Robe’s emotions wavered, bloody tears would flow. And in that moment, his life hung by a thread.

A real man never lets his wife cry.

"Wait! Darling, don’t cry! This isn’t a subduing device—it’s… it’s the *brand-newest* hairband!"

Seeing the tear cling to her lash, Dr. Chen rushed to explain. His mind a tangled mess, he babbled anything to calm her.

"..."

It worked! The bloody tear glistened but didn’t fall. She believed him—or half-believed. Time to double down.

"Look at your hair—so long, so gorgeous. Not a single accessory? It breaks this husband’s heart! So I asked Master Tang downstairs to craft this hairband, just for your lustrous black locks."

He reached out, mimicking the gentle hero from a Head & Shoulders commercial, stroking her waist-length hair.

Within seconds, his fingers numbed from the cold. He gritted his teeth and held on.

"Girls need jewelry! This hairband gleams gold, gems sparkling—every girl’s dream!"

Dr. Chen was gambling. *She senses objects but can’t see*, he reasoned. *How else would a grimy, rusted iron ring fool her? Unless becoming a Malevolent Ghost fried her IQ.*

Plain and simple: he was banking on her blindness and foggy mind. After all, Malevolent Ghosts were chaos incarnate.

Heart hammering, sweat soaking his brow—every second agony.

Then—success. Crimson Robe’s pale, slender hand slipped from her crimson sleeve, rising to touch the iron ring. The bloody tears vanished.

"Am… I… beautiful…?" The icy whisper forced out—a thousand-year-old question she once asked *him*.

(Naturally, the Slit-Mouthed Woman loved asking it too.)

"Beautiful! So beautiful! You’re the most beautiful, my love!"

Buzz buzz buzz… His phone vibrated. That familiar rhythm froze his blood.

"Wait!" Too late. Azure arcs erupted from the ring—*zzzzt!*—and Dr. Chen’s heart sank.

Sparks danced around her head. Her fingers brushed the ring. Crimson Robe jolted. Her flowing hair lifted… straightened… then exploded into a perfect afro!

No paralysis. No reaction. Truly the strongest Malevolent Ghost.

*Just the hair…*

Holy crap! Newton—no! Brother Tesla, did physics *really* need proving on a ghost?!

Mentally ranting, Dr. Chen scrambled to salvage the scene. *Don’t let her snap.*

"H-ha! This… this is *ultra*-trendy! C-called… Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Shamate! S-so… so stylish! There’s even a song: *Shamate, Shamate, wash-cut-blow-dry, blow-blow-blow-blow-blow…*" (singing tone)

Dr. Chen sighed inwardly. Living with Crimson Robe much longer? He’d definitely develop a stutter.