"Huff… Huff… Huff… Kane! Relax! You can do this!"
Kane stood perched on the windowsill, his posterior already suspended in midair. He'd shed his backpack, stuffing a bag of salt into his pocket and tucking the Peachwood Sword into his waistband. His bloodstained apron was still tied on. Thirteen floors up, he refused to look down. The icy draft at his back and his own vivid imagination were terror enough.
He clung white-knuckled to the window frame, his right foot probing tentatively for the air conditioning unit below. Thankfully, the complex was mostly deserted, and those who remained wouldn't dare venture out at this hour. Being seen would be… hard to explain.
Sweat plastered Kane's face, born of sheer fright, not exertion.
"Oh hell… Never knew I was scared of heights till now!"
He was agonizingly close to the window of unit 1304 now, almost within arm's reach. A small mercy – it wasn't locked. If it had been, he'd have been truly stuck.
"Just… a bit… more…"
His left hand scrabbled for purchase in a crevice in the wall as he leaned his body precariously out. But his right fingertips still fell frustratingly short of the window frame. Finally, with no other option, he wrestled off one of his sneakers. Gripping it, he used it to lever the window open just enough, scrambling through the narrow gap into the room beyond with a gasp of relief.
The moment he entered, the thick, cloying Nether Energy slammed into him. Its intensity was leagues beyond what he'd felt next door. If 1304 was dense air, this place was liquid oppression.
"How could anyone live here?"
Kane clapped a hand over his nose, recoiling. It wasn't just his spiritual sense protesting; the physical atmosphere was unbearable. Flowers choked the space, leaving barely any room to stand. Their individual scent might have been delicate, but in such overwhelming numbers, the combined perfume became a sickly, pungent assault. And the strange indigo blooms, with their eerie black-and-white stamens, emitted a faint, unnatural luminescence in the dimness, like countless unblinking eyes watching the intruder.
"What kind of underworld crap is this… Seriously creepy…"
Pinching his nose shut, Kane carefully picked his way through the ubiquitous blue flowers, stepping into the living room.
The living area seemed relatively mundane – coffee table, sofa, dining table, TV – though chaos reigned. Garbage and takeout containers littered every surface, abandoned dishes piled up. It fit the image of someone shattered by profound loss, nothing outwardly amiss.
After a quick scan, Kane pushed open a door. It revealed a makeshift computer room: a small adjoining bathroom, and a desk dominated by a high-end-looking desktop PC, its surfaces thick with undisturbed dust. Beside the monitor sat a framed photograph of three people. Kane didn't dare pick it up, wary of Alan noticing its displacement.
The picture showed the Eve sisters and Alan, all beaming. Eve clung to Alan's arm; he stood in the center, while Su Xueqing, on his other side, grinned with a peace sign, licking an ice cream cone. It looked like an older photo, their faces still holding traces of youthful innocence. Alan had an arm around Eve, his other hand resting affectionately on Su Xueqing's head like a protective older brother. Back then, Su Xueqing's style contrasted sharply with Eve's gentle intellectuality; she radiated rebellious teen energy, complete with smoky eyeshadow.
Beyond that photo, the computer room held nothing relevant to the case – just everyday clutter. Kane gave it a cursory glance before leaving, heading for the door directly opposite. This room shared a wall with 1304, and judging by the position, this was likely where Alan had been hammering earlier.
"D*mn…"
The moment Kane opened the door, the overpowering floral scent hit him like a wall. But before he could curse further, the sight within stole his breath.
Flowers. Everywhere. Flowers. The walls were smeared with earth, densely planted with the same unnerving blue blossoms. The floor was a carpet of soil, and even the ceiling was plastered with it, the indigo flowers sprouting downwards. The bedroom had no windows, no lights. Yet the flowers themselves cast a dim, pervasive glow, illuminating the space with an unnatural light. In the center, a single bed floated like a lonely raft amidst this sea of blossoms – hauntingly isolated, profoundly strange.
"He sleeps here… every night?"
Kane swallowed hard. This wasn't devotion; it was derangement. He tiptoed gingerly, terrified of crushing any of the unnatural blooms beneath his feet.
Suddenly, Kane noticed several clumps of flowers near the bed stood slightly taller than the rest, as if concealing something beneath the soil. He picked one at random and approached cautiously. Gently, he brushed away the dirt, careful not to damage the roots.
After a few careful scoops, his fingers touched wood. He unearthed a strangely shaped wooden box. It was surprisingly new, the wood still bearing a faint sheen, as if freshly crafted.
"What's this? Why make a box? And bury it in his bedroom?"
Heart pounding, Kane carefully lifted the lid. An unimaginably vile stench exploded outwards. What he saw inside sent a violent chill racing down his spine. He staggered back, legs threatening to buckle, barely avoiding collapsing into the flowerbed.
"A limb! It's a coffin! He's sleeping in a d*mn coffin field!"
Kane recoiled instinctively from the box. Inside lay a decaying fragment – a human hand, fingers missing. The flesh had long since rotted away, leaving only shriveled skin clinging to blackened bone.
Kane's breath came in ragged gasps. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped beast. He could feel the frantic pulse of his own blood thrumming from his scalp to his toes, even his eyeballs seeming to vibrate with terror.
"The lunatic! It *is* him!"
Ice flooded Kane's limbs. Neither in this life nor any other had he encountered such horror. Staying conscious felt like a minor miracle, a testament to sheer willpower.
Forcing deep breaths, Kane fought for control, clawing back some semblance of calm. He scanned the room, counting the other raised mounds of earth. The room wasn't large, yet it held thirteen distinct burial plots! Poor Eve had been dismembered into at least thirteen pieces by this madman!
"This isn't a sea of blossoms… It's a flower grave. Burial mounds everywhere. He sleeps in the graveyard he made for the woman he loved… Sh*t, that's some twisted poetry!"
Hands trembling, Kane slammed the lid back onto the gruesome coffin. He hastily reburied it, patting the soil down and meticulously replanting the disturbed flowers.
All thoughts of further investigation vanished. Getting out of this nightmare and calling the police was the only priority! The realization that Alan had been building *coffins* in the dead of night, not fixing some shoe rack, made Kane's skin crawl.
Kane backed out of the bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind him. He headed for the main entrance, desperate to escape. But just as he reached the living room, his spiritual sense – his *inspiration* – flared violently, like an alarm triggered. He froze mid-step. Every hair on his body stood rigidly erect. A glacial dread poured into his spine, locking his muscles. Goosebumps erupted across his skin.
*Something* had detected him. *Something* was watching him.
The sensation was primal, impossible to articulate, but Kane knew it with absolute certainty. It was a gaze. And it was profoundly, utterly inhuman.