"Sanmei!"

The woman had no idea what was happening. She knew mediums were vulnerable during séances—prone to possession by a Malevolent Ghost or attack from spirits lurking in the channeled object. But this? Clearly wrong. For one, Sanmei was only channeling the bespectacled girl’s soul to explore her pre-death memories.

Even if a Malevolent Ghost appeared, it’d just be a remnant within the memory fragment—a Level-1 VIP mission. How could it unleash such devastating power?!

"Save me…" Sanmei screamed. The green-faced Malevolent Ghost on her back had vanished—but not before tearing off a large patch of skin.

"I’ve got this!" The woman pulled out the half Ghost Mirror, an artifact from a Level-3 VIP mission capable of devouring spirits to grow stronger. Even a sliver could consume a low-level Malevolent Ghost.

Panicked and unsure where to start, she pressed the mirror against Sanmei’s neck, where deep purple strangulation marks had already formed.

Sanmei fell silent. Her struggling slowed, then stopped. Her body stiffened—death was near.

Finally, a ghostly woman’s face surfaced from the Ghost Mirror. Eyes dark and cold, it fixed its gaze on Sanmei’s neck and opened its mouth as if to devour something.

"Ugh—ahhhhh…"

Suddenly, Sanmei thrashed violently. An invisible force pried her jaws wide—past the limit—snapping her jawbone. The corners of her mouth tore open.

A cold gust swept through. A pale, slender hand slowly emerged from Sanmei’s mouth, seized the Ghost Mirror on her neck, and crushed it into shards.

A chill shot down the woman’s spine. She hadn’t felt this terrified in years. Memories flashed: her first mission. A ghostly hand reaching from the dark, dragging victims away one by one. Only she survived.

"Ah—! Hold on! I’ll get help!"

The Ghost Mirror was her strongest artifact—shattered effortlessly. This Malevolent Ghost was at least one tier above her. Tier-4 Advanced… maybe even Tier-5. Only the Guild Master could handle this. Staying meant death.

Convinced Sanmei was beyond saving, the woman turned and fled the room.

Creak… creak… creak…

The ghostly hand gripped Sanmei’s jaw, twisting her head slowly in one direction. After a full rotation, it withdrew back into her mouth.

No wonder the Crimson Robe was furious. The medium had recklessly overstepped—not just glimpsing Dr Chen’s appearance, but digging deeper. Like stripping a husband bare for inspection right in front of his wife.

"Ugh, this hurts like hell." Warm water stung Dr Chen’s wounds. He gritted his teeth, enduring the sharp pain while rinsing off mud, planning to apply iodine after.

Plop! The soap slipped from his wet hands and hit the floor. Water streaming down his face, Dr Chen squinted and bent to pick it up.

An icy hand touched his back.

"Ah!" He froze mid-motion, paralyzed.

"I—I didn’t provoke you, did I, wife?"

Only he and the jar in the living room were in the apartment. Who else but the Crimson Robe?

What was she doing? He hadn’t done anything… Why appear while he was bathing?

Dr Chen braced for the worst. But the ghostly hand merely roamed over his body—gently, like a blind person confirming shape through touch. She couldn’t see. She was checking if he was clothed.

"Wife, please don’t—"

The moment her fingers brushed his buttocks, the icy hand vanished with a whoosh.

Bang! The bathroom door slammed shut.

"What…? She touched me and left?"

Bathing forgotten, Dr Chen dried off. When he touched his earlier wounds—smooth skin. Fully healed. No pain.

She’d only meant to heal him. Unable to see, she’d checked for clothing… and her hand landed on his buttocks.