The elevator continued its slow ascent. I frantically pressed the button for the fourth floor, but nothing happened—the elevator was heading straight for the ninth.
Sweat beaded on my forehead as I recalled the scene I'd just witnessed. I slowly raised my right hand, dazed, watching the floors tick upward until we reached the eighth.
I wiped the sweat from my face and stared as the elevator chimed—ding—the doors opened at the eighth floor. Without hesitation, I leapt out, quietly scanning my surroundings. The corridor was pitch black, and the light behind me faded as the elevator doors closed, finally sealing me out.
My nerves were stretched to the limit. After weighing my options, I decided to go back. Just as the Horror Stories book had messaged me, this fear was piling up night after night—especially tonight. I'd had enough. My scalp tingled with dread.
The thrill was more than enough—I just wanted to go home and sleep. I stood still, watching the silence around me. There was no sound at all. Then I turned to the elevator's glowing display. The number was still eight, but then, impossibly, a segment on the lower right faded away, turning it into nine.
Without a second thought, I pressed the elevator button. With a whoosh, the doors opened. I rushed inside, bathing in the light, my mood instantly lifting. But in the next instant, I realized I was standing at the elevator's threshold—facing away from the doors.
A chill ran down my spine. Someone was breathing on the back of my neck.
"Don't you enjoy being afraid?"
A soft female voice sounded behind me. I held my breath, my heart in my throat, unsure where to put my raised hand.
Suddenly, my back began to itch, and I shivered as goosebumps covered my skin. I felt something sticky and slick rubbing against my spine—like a hand. I couldn't help but think of that night, of the rotten human hand pressed against the light switch at the door.
"I'm done playing."
I shouted, bolting down the hallway. It was pitch black—couldn't see a thing, not even my own hand. The sound-activated lights didn't come on. I had no idea how long I ran, but eventually I couldn't run anymore. This corridor felt endless.
A sliver of red light shone from the side. I turned and, to my shock, found myself still at the elevator doors. That bright red '9'—I was still on the ninth floor.
A pounding noise echoed, like someone fiercely hammering the walls. I followed the sound. With a creak, a door swung open, spilling out dim yellow light.
Panting, I wiped my forehead and took cautious steps forward. Driven by a strange compulsion, I felt an urge to investigate. Fear prickled every nerve—my shirt was soaked with sweat.
I moved slowly, inch by inch, practically crawling. The pounding grew louder, the wall-shaking vibrations reached my feet.
The sound became more rhythmic—bangs, pauses, footsteps—like someone was charging at the wall and slamming into it.
My foot was about to step into the dim light, but I stopped, repeating in my mind: What should I do?
I was at my limit—couldn't turn back, couldn't go forward. Trapped in fear and indecision, I finally stepped into the yellow glow.
I'd had enough.
"Don't be afraid of ghosts."
A strange voice echoed in my mind. I felt I'd heard it before—a warning from someone else. But in the blink of an eye, I cried out in shock as a jolt of electricity shot from my feet to my head, making my hair stand on end.
Inside the room, there was nothing—just white walls and floor, all splattered with dark red stains. I saw a person, their body mangled and bloody, yet still desperately backing up and slamming into the wall. Flesh and blood flew everywhere with each violent impact.
His face was covered in blood, bruised and swollen beyond recognition. Suddenly, he fixed his bloodshot eyes on me, opened his mouth—full of blood and missing teeth—and spoke, word by word.
"I'm so tired. Take my place."
As soon as he finished speaking, he slammed into the wall with a sickening splat, like a pile of rotten flesh. Suddenly, my vision flipped upside down.
I screamed. Below me was a street, dozens of meters down—I was perched on the edge of a rooftop, and reflexively grabbed the ledge.
"I'm suffering. Help me—make it easier for me."
It was that person, like a pile of rotten sludge—arms and legs twisted and broken, blood oozing thick and sticky from his body. I couldn't help but feel nauseated, clutching the rooftop edge. He was a ghost—a real ghost.
I saw wisps of black mist rising from his body. My heart felt ready to explode—fear had consumed me. I couldn't hold on much longer. The ghost, crawling and staggering, came right up to me, stretching his grotesquely deformed right hand onto mine.
A wave of icy cold washed over me.
"Go down, go down—then I'll finally be free."
In a flash, I let go with my right hand, clenched my fist, and punched the ghost in the head. It shrieked in agony.
This chapter isn't over ^.^ Please click next page to continue reading!
Everything around me changed—I was back at the doorway, and the ghostly mass lay collapsed on the floor. I stared in shock at my outstretched fist, blood dripping onto the ground, its surface shrouded in black mist.
Without thinking, I turned and ran, not looking back. In that instant, all my fear vanished. The ghost and the bloody room seemed almost familiar—like I wasn't scared at all.
Doors flew open all around, accompanied by sobbing. Ghosts of all shapes and sizes poured out from the rooms.
A piercing scream rang out behind me. I turned and saw the Floral Dress Lady—her body in various stages of decay, the stench of rot overwhelming. She stretched out her hands, black nails visible, floating toward me.
Desperate, I kept running. Something grabbed my leg—a child ghost, face pale and glowing faintly, giggling foolishly at me. I kicked him away and kept running.
Strangely, all my fear was gone. I didn't feel scared at all. Instead, a surge of fighting spirit welled up inside me—I wanted to beat these ghosts senseless.
This shift in mindset happened in less than a second. Suddenly, a thought flashed through my mind—the space in front of me was the exit. I shouted and punched forward. Instantly, the space twisted and warped, and I felt myself pass through something.
I was back at the elevator doors. Behind me, in the distorted space, ghosts chased after me. I quickly pressed the elevator button, rushed in, and hit the button for the fourth floor.
The elevator doors slowly closed as the Floral Dress Lady, her face twisted with rage, rushed toward me. The doors shut, and I felt a wave of relief as the elevator began its slow descent.
Ding—the elevator doors opened. I stepped out and clapped my hands; the sound-activated lights came on. But my mind was a mess. My memories felt hollow and weak.
I tried to shake off these thoughts and walked step by step toward my room. If I could just get back, tonight's terror would end. I couldn't take any more—if this kept up, I'd be dead.
I reached the door to 444, took out my key, unlocked the door, and quickly turned to shut it, locking it behind me. I finally breathed a sigh of relief—until I turned around and my eyes widened.
There they were—the ghosts, huddled in the corners of my home, sobbing and shouting in unison.
"We want your life, Ethan Zhang."
As I turned and grabbed the door handle, I glimpsed the ghosts lunging at me. My hand gripped the handle, unlocked the door, and I stepped out.
For a moment, I froze. Why was I afraid of them? They were just ordinary Yellow Pages and Shadows—at most, two powerful ghosts.
My memories were still a mess, but slowly, something came back to me. Suddenly, a smile crept onto my lips.
"Humans have their path, ghosts have theirs. I am... Ethan Zhang... Instinct, called Coexistence..."
I shouted, Deathbane Aura surging from my body. I turned, grabbed the Floral Dress Lady by the face, and the aura shot from my spine, stabbing at the ghosts.
"Don't take another step, or you'll die..."
The roomful of ghosts froze. My Deathbane Aura turned into spikes, pressing right up to them. None dared move.
"How is he so strong? Run!" one ghost shouted, and the others tried to slip into the walls.
A ghost screamed, clutching its vanished arm as Deathbane Aura kept seeping from the wall.
"No one gets away."