That night, I had expected to stay by the roadside until morning, but a kind passing driver eventually gave me a lift to the next long-distance bus stop.

It was only then that I regretted my decision; I had assumed taking the long-distance bus would be cheaper than the train, never suspecting I’d run into trouble like this.

And just when I thought this was a rare, isolated incident, I discovered I was wrong. From that moment on, I realized I could continuously see ghosts. During the day, things were fine; I couldn't see much, but once evening fell, I could encounter that terrifying stuff at any moment.

From initial fear to gradual numbness, I found that as long as I deliberately avoided them, I wouldn't invite trouble. However, there were a few close calls, the most dangerous of which occurred when I reached the town closest to the temple.

Arriving in town, I couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief, thinking that once I got into the mountains and met Pi Hou'er, things would surely improve—at least I could ask Uncle Ye what exactly was going on with me.

It was nearly nine by the time I entered the town, making it impossible to head into the mountains that late. So, I counted the money I had, decided to find a very small inn, stay the night, and venture into the mountains the next day.

Though the inn was small, it was a three-story building. Even though the public bathhouse had stopped providing hot water, I still thought it was quite decent. A cold shower actually cleared my head considerably.

The bathroom was on the second floor, but the room the innkeeper gave me was the innermost one on the third floor—also the cheapest—and it felt a bit damp because it faced away from the sun. But it was only for one night; I didn't mind.

As I walked upstairs, I inadvertently glanced at the doorway of the room next to the staircase landing. I had already been startled when I first came up; that room was occupied by a tailor, supposedly an unsuccessful fashion designer, which explained the plastic mannequin placed outside the door. The owner mentioned the tailor had left a week ago and hadn't returned, implying he might have stolen quite a few things and likely skipped town.

Still, my own troubles hadn't been resolved, so I wasn't inclined to pry into others' affairs. Since the hallway light was broken again, it was pitch black when I first came up, and seeing a silhouette standing motionless by a doorway nearly added another layer of pressure to my already tightly strung nerves. I almost yelled out loud before the innkeeper, who had led me upstairs, warned me to be careful, suggesting many people had been frightened by that mannequin. I couldn't understand why the tailor would leave the mannequin behind when he himself was gone.

Back in my room, I lay down on the ** and forced myself to relax, closing my eyes and trying hard to sleep. Most of the journey had been like this, with nights spent mostly in transit, sometimes at bus stations. That day marked the first time in a while I'd had a **.

It seemed that in that hazy state, a faint "pitter-patter" sound drifted into my ears, like someone walking on tiptoe.

I only had one room, and the door panel was thin. Although the sound seemed to come from the corridor outside, it still pulled me from my semi-conscious state back into reality.

It wasn't unusual to hear footsteps in an inn hallway, but given the continuous atmosphere of fear and tension I'd endured recently, coupled with the stuffy, damp air in the room, I couldn't help but squint and listen intently.

Unexpectedly, the footsteps seemed to get closer and closer, and when the sound stopped, it felt as if it were right outside my door.

My room wasn't large and was rectangular, so the bed was positioned along its longer dimension, with my head facing inward. Lying on the ** with my back against the wall and my face outward, I could see the area near the door just by lowering my eyes.

As I squinted, I suddenly heard a faint click from the door—it sounded distinctly like someone turning the doorknob. Though the sound was light, it was still jarring in the dead of night.

I couldn't recall whether I had locked the door after entering, but as I peered with narrowed eyes now, I watched the door silently swing open.

My drowsiness vanished instantly upon seeing the door pushed ajar. I just stared blankly out into the pitch-black opening, where nothing seemed amiss at first. However, a small gust of wind blew in from outside, and as it brushed against my body, it felt icy cold, instantly raising goosebumps all over me.

My nerves snapped taut. I thought: It's happening again; I’m about to see that thing.

But I realized my courage seemed to be growing. Previously, I would have likely been unable to contain a scream by now, but this time, I managed to suppress any sound, simply staring woodenly outside.

After an indeterminate period, a head slowly poked through the doorway. It had thick, black, long hair, appearing to be a woman's, with the ends hanging very long because her head was tilted slightly.

I didn't know what a Sadako was back then; only later, when I accidentally saw one, did I realize how closely it resembled what I saw then.

The woman stared at me from outside for a long while before slowly straightening up and gliding into the room. Her steps were small and light; when she reached the foot of my bed, not a sound came from her feet.

Because she was facing me, she seemed tall and thin, clad in a white robe. Since her hair obscured her entire face, I could only catch a glimpse of white—her eyes—flashing between the strands of long hair, making her look extremely sinister and uncanny.

But in that moment, I suddenly realized this woman couldn't possibly be a ghost. Though terrifying in appearance, she lacked that chilling aura of the spectral.

As expected, she stopped beside my ** and stared at me for a good while before turning sharply and reaching directly for the clothes draped over the chair by the bedside.

A thief!

I felt a mix of annoyance and amusement. I hadn't expected to run into such a creative thief in this town.

The problem was that I kept seeing ghosts every few days, and now I ran into a thief disguised as a ghost—I couldn't tell if I was lucky or having a run of bad luck.

Stalling wasn't helping. Seeing her back turned to me, I suddenly leaped off the ** and grabbed her long hair in one swift motion.

To my surprise, the hair that reached her waist was fake. With one tug, it came off in my hand. Startled by the sudden pull, she couldn't help but let out a startled "Ah!"

Now I knew: this was likely a man, not a woman. The cry was a rough voice, and it sounded vaguely familiar.

Since I had started this, I might as well finish it. I tossed the wig aside and yanked at the white robe. Finally, I saw clearly: beneath the robe stood a thin, scrawny man. Just as I suspected, it was the innkeeper.

Furious, I kicked him to the ground. My physique was decent; I might be ineffective against ghosts, but beating up a few people was no problem, especially since this innkeeper wasn't exactly robust.

Seeing that I had exposed him, the innkeeper made no attempt to fight back. He scrambled and crawled toward the door, slipping and sliding.

He froze abruptly just as he reached the door, and I, who had been about to pursue him, also stopped short. The door had been open when he entered, but in that brief moment, it had somehow closed.

Was it the wind, or had the innkeeper accidentally shut it? I didn't know, but after that momentary pause, I followed, intending to grab him and teach him a lesson, perhaps even get some compensation.

The innkeeper was a step ahead. He was halfway up, reaching for the doorknob, pulling hard inward, preparing to burst out of my room.

But as the door opened under his pull, I heard the innkeeper let out a cry filled with sheer terror.

Standing just outside the door was another woman.

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