The first sign that I was no longer alone came before I noticed anyone following me.
It came as silence.
The city outside my lab was rarely quiet. Even late at night, there were footsteps, engines, distant conversations drifting upward from the street. But as I shut down the lights and locked the door behind me, the noise seemed to thin out unnaturally, like someone had lowered the volume of the world.
I paused, keys still in my hand.
The pressure behind my eyes stirred—not pain, not yet, but awareness. The same sensation I felt seconds before asking a question of the dead.
Something was paying attention.
I forced myself to keep walking.
Half a block down, I caught my reflection in a darkened shop window. For a moment, it lagged behind my movement again—just a fraction of a second too slow.
Then it smiled.
Not my smile.
I stopped walking.
The reflection froze.
When I blinked, it returned to normal.
I exhaled slowly and continued toward my car, heart rate steady by sheer force of habit. Panic would help no one. Panic would only blur observation.
A black sedan rolled past me, slow enough to be noticed, quiet enough to be intentional.
Not the same one as before.
That was worse.
I didn't drive home.
Instead, I took a series of turns through side streets, looping back twice, watching mirrors carefully. After the third turn, the sedan was still there—two cars behind, unhurried.
They weren't hiding.
They wanted me to know.
I pulled into a 24-hour convenience store and parked under the brightest light. The sedan stopped across the street.
I stepped out of the car.
So did they.
Two men. Plain clothes. Clean shoes. The kind of people who never looked rushed and never looked lost.
One of them raised a hand slightly—not a wave, not a threat. A signal.
"Dr. Shen," he said when I approached. "We won't take much of your time."
"I didn't give you permission to use my name," I replied.
He smiled politely. "That's not how this works."
The other man watched silently, eyes scanning the street rather than me.
"We warned you," the first man continued. "Through appropriate channels."
"You threatened me," I said.
"Warnings feel like threats when ignored."
I studied his face. No fear. No hostility. Just professionalism.
"You're not police," I said.
"No."
"You're not criminals either."
Another small smile. "We prefer not to use labels."
I nodded once. "Then deliver your message."
He stepped closer—but not into my personal space. Close enough to be heard without raising his voice.
"Zhao Ming's death will remain unresolved," he said. "Any attempt to change that outcome will result in consequences. Not just for you."
I felt something cold settle in my chest.
"You've already spoken to my assistant," I said.
"Yes."
"And my mentor," I added quietly.
The man's smile faded slightly.
"That was unnecessary," he said.
So they had.
Han Wei hadn't told me everything.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"We want you to continue your work," he replied smoothly. "Just not on this."
I almost laughed.
"You expect me to selectively ignore truth?"
"I expect you to understand hierarchy," he corrected. "Some truths are managed."
The second man finally spoke.
"You have a reputation," he said. "You notice things others miss."
I met his gaze. "And that makes you nervous."
"It makes us cautious," he replied. "People like you tend to ask questions that don't stop."
The pressure behind my eyes pulsed.
Uninvited images surfaced—hands tightening, breath faltering, time being measured.
I clenched my jaw.
"You're afraid," I said.
The first man tilted his head. "Of what?"
"That the dead won't stay quiet."
The silence between us stretched.
Then he smiled again.
"Good night, Dr. Shen," he said. "Consider this our final courtesy."
They returned to their car and drove away.
The sedan disappeared into traffic.
The noise of the city rushed back all at once.
I stood under the store's lights for a long moment before returning to my car.
That night, the lab security system triggered at 2:13 a.m.
Ling called me, voice tight. "Someone tried to access the records remotely."
I sat upright instantly. "Did they get in?"
"No," she said. "But they weren't guessing. They knew exactly where to look."
I closed my eyes.
"They're escalating," I said.
"So are you," she replied quietly.
After the call ended, I sat in the dark, staring at my hands.
They were steady.
That frightened me more than shaking ever had.
The next morning, I stood over another body.
Unrelated case. Officially.
Male. Early thirties. Apparent overdose. No external trauma.
Routine.
I told myself I wouldn't use the ability.
Just observe.
Just confirm.
As I lifted the sheet, the pressure hit me immediately—stronger than before, sharper, like static crawling beneath my skin.
I hadn't said anything.
I hadn't focused.
And yet—
Don't ask.
The words weren't a voice.
They were a sensation, pressed directly into thought.
My breath hitched.
This was new.
"Did you hear that?" Ling asked from behind me.
I turned slowly. "Hear what?"
She frowned. "You said something."
I stared at her.
"I didn't speak."
The corpse's fingers twitched.
Ling sucked in a sharp breath.
"Tell me you saw that," she whispered.
I did.
I forced myself to step back.
"No question," I said firmly. "I didn't ask."
The pressure lingered anyway, coiling tight around my thoughts.
The dead were no longer waiting for permission.
That night, the dreams returned—but they were clearer now.
I stood in a corridor lined with doors. Each door bore a name.
Some I recognized.
Some I didn't.
Zhao Ming's door was already open.
Inside, three shadows stood around a body.
One of them turned toward me.
And spoke with a living voice.
Stop looking.
I woke with my phone buzzing violently beside me.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
You're starting to understand.
Another message followed immediately.
Some corpses answer. Others listen.
My fingers hovered over the screen.
For the first time, I replied.
What happens when they refuse?
The response came after a pause.
Then the cost is paid in advance.
I stared at the words until the screen dimmed.
Outside, dawn crept slowly across the city.
I understood something now that I hadn't before.
The warning phase was over.
The next step wouldn't be words.
It would be action.