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Night had fallen. The streetlights now shone brightly along the road, casting a warm, yellowish glow. He found himself on a narrow street close to home, surrounded by old, weathered apartment buildings. They stood like silent sentinels in the dark, their aging walls looming over him. Yet, the soft light spilling out from small, makeshift shops on the ground floor—homes turned into businesses—offered a strange comfort, gently easing the cold feeling gnawing at his chest.

Cold?

Suddenly, Yu Sheng shivered as he felt an icy chill seep into his lungs, like frozen blades piercing through his skin. His mind flashed back to those cold, slippery eyes—the eyes of the frog.

He gasped, his breath caught in his throat, as panic crept in. It took several seconds before he could remember how to breathe. When he finally managed to, he pressed his hand to his chest.

For a brief, terrifying moment, he imagined a hole where his heart should be like his chest had been hollowed out. His heart, once a warm, beating thing, now seemed cold and lifeless, as if it had been snatched away. But then, as he stood there, he heard it—thump, thump. His heartbeat was louder and clearer than ever before. He was alive. He hadn’t been killed by that monstrous frog after all.

But the memories—wild and scattered—came flooding back, unstoppable like a raging river. Yu Sheng remembered the rain, the strange door painted on the wall, and the giant frog. He tried to push the thoughts away, to convince himself it had all been some twisted dream. But the harder he tried, the clearer and sharper the memories became.

He had died once. And yet, here he was, walking toward home—only two intersections away.

Of all the strange things that had happened to him since arriving in this unsettling city, this was by far the most bizarre.

It was then that he realized people were staring at him. His strange behavior had drawn the attention of passersby. One person seemed to hesitate as though considering whether to check on him. Quickly, Yu Sheng waved them off, avoiding any more awkward looks. He picked up his pace, eager to leave before anyone else took notice.

Standing in the street wasn’t going to help him figure out whatever had happened to him.

He moved faster, darting through the narrow lanes and leaving the old neighborhood behind. Soon, he found himself in a quieter part of the city, where even the streetlights seemed dimmer. The bustling life of the streets disappeared, and the cold, eerie silence wrapped around him once more. Pedestrians thinned out until he was left alone with the empty streetlights.

Eventually, there it was—his home. The old mansion stood alone in the darkness, distant from the surrounding buildings, as if it didn’t quite belong.

It was a large but unimpressive house, three stories tall, with peeling paint and a roof that sagged slightly. The doors and windows, though old, were well-kept and clean. The place looked like one of those self-built houses people had hurriedly thrown together years ago before strict regulations had taken hold. It was a relic, left behind in the shadows of the city’s rapid development.

Yu Sheng didn’t fully understand the city’s planning. After all, he’d only been in this strange place for two months. And for much of that time, he’d kept a low profile, staying indoors and only now beginning to get used to his new life. But one thing was certain.

This old house—odd as it was—felt like the only safe place in the entire city. Here, within its walls, he hadn’t encountered the strange shadows that seemed to follow him everywhere else.

Still, the house held its own mysteries.

Taking a deep breath, Yu Sheng tightened his grip on the supermarket bag he was holding. He walked through the pale glow of the streetlamp and approached the front door, fumbling for his key in the process.

The old door creaked as it swung open. Yu Sheng stepped inside and flicked on the lights. The house was nothing like the home he remembered, yet the moment the light filled the room, he felt a strange sense of peace, as though he was truly safe.

He turned and closed the door behind him, shutting out the cold night outside.

Without thinking much, he tossed the groceries onto the shelf near the kitchen door and headed straight for the bathroom mirror. His mind raced with the memories, too vivid to ignore, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease creeping up his spine.

With a quick, nervous motion, he yanked open his shirt, revealing his chest.

There were no wounds. No blood. No sign that he had died.

Yu Sheng frowned, checking his clothes for any sign of a tear. His hand moved instinctively to his chest, pressing the spot where, in his memory, that monstrous frog had ripped out his heart. He let out a sigh of relief when he found no gaping wound. His heart was still there, beating steadily under his palm.

“Something’s not right…” he muttered to himself, his voice barely a whisper.

He moved out of the bathroom, still lost in thought. Behind him, the mirror above the sink silently splintered into a web of cracks—only to mend itself in an instant, leaving no trace of its damage.

Back in the living room, Yu Sheng sank into the sofa, trying to untangle his chaotic thoughts. How long had he been here? How long had it been since he’d arrived in this strange, unsettling place? His mind, exhausted and heavy, began to drift. Sleep crept over him, slowly at first, then all at once.

It wasn’t a restful sleep. A deep haze lingered in his mind until a loud thud exploded in his head, like the strike of a shovel against a stone right above him. The sound jolted him awake.

Yu Sheng blinked, his eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness that had overtaken the room. The living room lights had gone out at some point. But he remembered leaving them on—he was sure of it.

Panic flared in his chest. Instinctively, he reached for the extendable baton beside him—the very first thing he’d gotten his hands on when he’d arrived in this creepy city. It hadn’t been of much use yet, but just holding it made him feel a little safer. He stood up cautiously, every sense heightened, alert to the slightest noise.

In a place this remote, a break-in wasn’t impossible. In fact, he almost hoped it was just a burglar. A thief he could deal with—a meter-tall frog, on the other hand, not so much.

But the room was silent. There were no signs of forced entry. No creaks of floorboards, no rustle of movement.

And—thankfully—no frogs.

Yu Sheng crouched low, using the dim light from the streetlamp outside to scan the room. Everything looked as it had before. Slowly, he made his way to the wall switch and flicked the lights back on.

The sudden brightness flooded the living room, and his eyes quickly adjusted. But even with the lights on, something still felt off—though he couldn’t quite place what it was.

Gripping his baton, he hunched slightly, moving through the house cautiously. He checked every corner of the ground floor: the living room, the kitchen, the dining room, and the unused spare room. Everything seemed normal.

He hesitated at the foot of the stairs leading to the second floor. Then, steeling himself, he began to climb.

The second floor had three rooms: his bedroom, a storage room filled with random clutter, and the locked room at the end of the corridor.

That locked room had been a mystery from the day he moved in. No matter how much he searched, he had never found the key.

He checked his bedroom first—nothing out of place. The storage room was the same, cluttered but undisturbed.

Finally, he approached the locked door.

As usual, it was firmly shut.

Yu Sheng had tried everything to get inside: power drills, handheld electric saws, even a crowbar. None of it worked. The seemingly fragile wooden door remained unscathed as if mocking his attempts. The tools would throw off sparks and wear down, but the door? Not a single scratch.

Desperate, he had even called in professional help. Three locksmiths, to be exact. The first two never even made it to the house, getting lost in the maze of old-town streets. The third one, well, he’d been hit by a motorcycle just after turning onto Sycamore Road. He’d only been released from the hospital last week.

It was as if something was actively preventing him from unlocking this room in his own house.

His hand closed around the doorknob, and, as expected, it didn’t budge.

Everything seemed the same. Locked. Impenetrable.

But just as he was about to let go, he thought he heard something—a faint giggle. So soft it could’ve been the wind, but no… it sounded like a young woman’s laugh, barely audible but filled with amusement like she was mocking him.

Yu Sheng’s blood ran cold, his heart pounding in his chest.

He stepped back, his pulse thundering in his ears. Someone… or something was in there. Someone had been inside the entire time.

But how could they still be alive? How hadn’t they starved?