When Wang Hailong uttered the name "Hai Ming Apartments," Chen Ge felt the world tilt for a heartbeat. The coincidence was too sharp, too pointed, like a needle slipping through fabric he hadn't realized was there. "The Hai Ming Apartments you mentioned," he said slowly, voice carefully neutral, "are they in the deepest part of the old residential area? The one with trash piled high outside, cracked concrete stairs, and a six-story building that looks like it's been forgotten by time?"
This time it was the brothers who froze, identical expressions of shock crossing their faces. Wang Hailong recovered first. "You've been there?" he asked, leaning forward, suspicion and curiosity warring in his eyes. Wang Wenlong's gaze sharpened, scanning Chen Ge as if seeing him in a new light. The park's cheerful music and distant laughter felt suddenly far away, the afternoon sun too bright against the dark thread now connecting them all.
"I was there the night before last," Chen Ge admitted, the memory of sour air, red strings on railings, and the desperate white cat flashing through his mind. "Completed a scenario challenge there." He kept the details vague; the black phone's missions weren't for sharing. The brothers exchanged another glance, clearly unsettled by the overlap. Wang Hailong forced a grin. "Small world. Makes things easier—you already know the way. Meet us downstairs tonight, around eight. My dad's… stubborn. Better if we go up together."
They finalized the plan quickly—Chen Ge would bring Doctor Gao if possible, casual clothes only, no sudden moves around Shenglong. With a final nod, the brothers turned to leave, their broad backs disappearing into the thinning crowd. Chen Ge watched them go, mind already racing ahead to midnight meetings and sealed hospital wings.
Wang Shenglong's childhood home sat directly beside the Third Sick Hall. The monster that had stolen his voice—tall enough to peer over two-and-a-half-meter walls, climbing onto a child's shoulders to play a deadly game—had likely escaped from the same place that birthed the dual-faced entity now haunting Room 303. Both monsters, both choosing Hai Ming Apartments as refuge. Coincidence stretched too thin to be chance.
Chen Ge's thoughts circled back to the young man in Room 302, his terrified confessions. The two voices arguing inside Wang Haiming's head—one had snarled that if not for fear of the "Red Specter," it would have killed its partner rather than share a body. A Red Specter. The same tier as Zhang Ya, the entity that had turned the Haunted House's mirror monster into plaything. If the monster in Haiming feared capture by a Red Specter… could the thing inside Shenglong be that very presence? A child's body housing something capable of terrifying a mirror-born horror? The idea sent ice down Chen Ge's spine.
He sat on the Haunted House steps, lunch forgotten, staring at the park's fading visitors. The monster in Haiming had been cautious—small sacrifices at first, sparrows, then dogs, testing boundaries, feeling out the limits of whatever watched from Hai Ming's shadows. Unlike the brash mirror monster at the Haunted House, this one feared consequences. That alone suggested the presence in Shenglong—if it was the Red Specter—was far stronger than any lingering spirit or baleful specter Chen Ge had faced. And if the Third Sick Hall had birthed two such creatures that escaped… how many more remained sealed inside?
A three-star scenario already felt like walking a tightrope over an abyss. The four-star School of the Afterlife, still locked behind future missions, loomed in his imagination like a black hole. Chen Ge rubbed his temples, the weight of the black phone's escalating trials pressing down. He pulled out his phone and dialed Doctor Gao, unsure if the psychologist would be free but determined to bring expertise to tonight's meeting. The call connected on the second ring.
"Chen Ge?" Doctor Gao's voice was tired but alert. "How can I help?"
"It's about Men Nan first—how's he doing?" Chen Ge asked, concern genuine.
A pause, then a sigh. "He's resting, but his condition is more complicated than I feared. After he woke, I ran another full evaluation… and found something alarming." Doctor Gao's tone turned grave, footsteps echoing as if he'd moved to a quieter space. "There are three distinct personas inside Men Nan. One is the primary—the growing, everyday Men Nan we know. The second is a protective persona he's adopted: his deceased mother. She identifies fully as his mother, likely a defense mechanism his young mind created after witnessing her murder."
Chen Ge's grip tightened on the phone. Three personas. The mission "A Room of Three" had been literal after all. "And the third?" he asked quietly.
Doctor Gao's voice dropped lower. "That's the problem. The third is… emerging. It's aggressive, fragmented, and seems to be gaining strength. I'm not sure yet what it represents, but it's dangerous—for Men Nan and potentially for others. We need more time, more sessions." The words hung heavy, a new layer of darkness over the victory Chen Ge had thought complete. The black phone had marked the mission done, but Men Nan's nightmare was far from over.
"What about the third persona?" Chen Ge pressed, his voice steady but laced with urgency, the black phone's mission "A Room of Three" echoing in his mind. The revelation of multiple personas inside Men Nan complicated everything; the mission had been marked complete, yet the young man's torment clearly lingered.
Doctor Gao's sigh was heavy, audible even over the line. "The third persona's appearances are brief, fleeting—mere minutes at most—so we have limited data. What I can confirm is its existence. Unlike the others, it doesn't grow or evolve; it remains frozen at the age Men Nan was when the trauma occurred—a child's mindset trapped in stasis. I can't communicate with it directly, and it surfaces unpredictably. But whenever it takes control…" He paused, as if weighing his words. "Men Nan's psychological insight sharpens dramatically. His acumen doubles, triples even. Observations that would take seasoned professionals hours, he makes in seconds."
"Meaning Men Nan's extraordinary talent ties directly to this third persona?" Chen Ge asked, the pieces shifting in his mind. The black phone had rewarded him for resolving the mission, but this hidden layer suggested deeper roots.
"Exactly," Doctor Gao confirmed, his tone a mix of admiration and concern. "I've never encountered raw talent like his. He reads people, situations, subconscious cues with terrifying precision when this persona is active. But preserving that gift complicates treatment. Standard medication strengthens the primary persona while suppressing the others. Pushing too hard risks erasing his ability entirely. I'm consulting colleagues nationwide to design a tailored approach—something that heals without destroying what makes him unique." The conflict was clear in his voice: save the boy, or save the genius.
Chen Ge fell silent, processing. A cure might strip Men Nan of the very gift that defined him. Good or bad, it wasn't his call—but the third persona's childlike stasis felt too close to the protective maternal spirit he'd glimpsed. The mission's completion hadn't erased the fractures; it had only exposed them. Since Doctor Gao sounded deeply engrossed, Chen Ge held back on mentioning Wang Shenglong. The psychologist was already stretched thin. "Alright," he said instead. "Wishing Men Nan a speedy recovery. Goodbye."
"Wait," Doctor Gao interjected just as Chen Ge moved to end the call. "You called for a reason, didn't you? Men Nan's too fragile for intensive sessions right now, so my schedule's lighter. If you need help, speak freely."
The opening was unexpected, but Chen Ge didn't hesitate. He recounted everything about Wang Shenglong—the sudden muteness at five, the tall figure on the shoulders, the deadly game "Who Speaks First," the aversion to doctors that worsened after treatment at the Third Centre. Doctor Gao listened without interruption, the line silent save for occasional thoughtful hums. When Chen Ge finished, the psychologist's response was immediate. "I'll come with you tonight. Men Nan's belongings are still at Hai Ming Apartments; I've been meaning to retrieve them. This gives me the perfect excuse."
"Thank you, Doctor Gao," Chen Ge said, genuine gratitude warming his voice.
"No need for thanks," Doctor Gao replied, a smile audible in his tone. "Ru Xue's told me all about you. A psychology enthusiast who actually applies his knowledge to help others—you put many professionals to shame, myself included."
"Psychology enthusiast?" Chen Ge echoed, caught off guard. "That's how Gao Ru Xue described me?" The label felt like a polite fiction; his "enthusiasm" came from surviving the black phone's trials, not textbooks.
Doctor Gao chuckled. "Your Haunted House is layered with psychological techniques—atmospheric manipulation, suggestion, fear conditioning. It's clear you've studied deeply. If I get the chance, I'd love to experience it myself."
Chen Ge wiped sudden sweat from his brow, the image of the impeccably suited psychologist screaming through his scenarios both hilarious and terrifying. "You flatter me," he managed, laughing weakly. The call ended with mutual well-wishes, but Chen Ge sat on the steps a moment longer, phone in hand. Doctor Gao's praise had landed unexpectedly—first time anyone had called him noble for dragging people through hell and back. A wry smile tugged at his lips. Perhaps, in his own twisted way, he really was helping. The Haunted House wasn't just scares; it was confrontation, catharsis, survival. And tonight, with Doctor Gao at his side, he'd face whatever waited in Hai Ming Apartments—and the shadow of the Third Sick Hall beyond.