Chapter 3: The Locked Room
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation
Yu Sheng’s head felt strange, as though thick, heavy mist had settled inside it. Everything around him seemed blurry and distant, as if he were looking at the world through a curtain made of fog. The sounds drifting over from the main road were soft and odd, sometimes fading, sometimes growing clearer, as if they were part of a dream he couldn’t quite grasp. He didn’t know how long he had wandered in this muddled state, but after a while, he managed to shake off the haze and find his bearings. He stopped walking and turned to glance back down the path he’d just taken.
The sky had grown very dark now. Weak streetlights lined the narrow lane, their pale beams casting long shadows on the old, low-rise apartment buildings. These run-down structures reminded Yu Sheng of crouching beasts at rest in the night. On the ground floors, where a few residents had turned their flats into tiny shops, warm light shone through the windows, chasing away the chill in the air. That welcoming glow felt almost comforting.
Chill?
A sudden, biting coldness seized him again, creeping into his bones. It was like a frozen blade sliding right into his chest. He remembered the feeling of icy rain clinging to his skin. He remembered those two slimy, bulging eyes watching him—the eyes of a frog. His heart lurched, and he realized he had forgotten how to breathe. After about ten agonizing seconds, he finally drew a shaky breath. He stared down at his own chest, his heart pounding loudly in his ears.
For one terrifying moment, he thought there was still a gaping hole there, as if something had ripped out his heart and left behind a hollow, icy furnace. But then, he felt it—his heart, beating strong and steady beneath his ribs. Yes, he was alive. Living people had heartbeats, after all.
He was alive. He hadn’t been devoured by some enormous, eerie frog creature.
But the memories surged back into his mind with the force of a tidal wave. He remembered the rain. He remembered that strange door painted onto a wall, and that monstrous frog looming over him. He tried telling himself it must have been a hallucination, but the more he thought about it, the more real it seemed. He was certain he had died. Yet here he was, standing just two intersections away from home, breathing and alive.
This was, without a doubt, the strangest thing that had happened to him since arriving in this bewildering city. And considering all the oddities he had encountered here, that was saying a lot.
He noticed a few people on the street watching him curiously, as if concerned. One person even looked ready to come over and ask if he was all right. Yu Sheng quickly waved them off and hurried along, not wanting to draw any attention. He had no answers for them, anyway.
Thinking about this mystery out in the open wouldn’t help. He needed to go home.
He walked briskly through the small alleys, leaving behind the old residential area. This part of the city felt quieter, emptier, as if it had slipped from everyone’s memory. Soon, the sidewalks were deserted, and it was just him and the glow of a few scattered streetlights. After some time, he finally saw it: his place—a strange old manor, standing alone in the night. It seemed to hover on the edge of the city, as though it didn’t quite belong to the modern world around it.
The house looked ordinary enough: three stories high, its plaster walls peeling, the roof slightly crooked. The windows and doors were old but still intact. It reminded him of a leftover relic from a time when builders didn’t pay much attention to strict city rules. Yu Sheng knew very little about the planning laws of this version of Boundary City—he had only been here two months—but he’d learned one thing for sure: this old manor was the only place where he felt even the faintest sense of safety. He had never spotted any of those eerie shadows lurking inside. Of course, that was not to say the manor didn’t have its own peculiarities.
He took a deep breath, stepping into the ring of dim light by the front door. He fished out his keys and unlocked the door. It creaked open, and Yu Sheng stepped inside, flicking on the switch. Instantly, the lights chased away the darkness, offering at least a fragile comfort in a city full of unsettling surprises.
He closed the door firmly behind him, shutting out the gloomy night beyond.
With a heavy sigh, he tossed the grocery bag he’d brought from the supermarket onto a shelf beside the kitchen entrance. Without waiting another second, he hurried across the dusty living room and into the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, he yanked open his shirt and peered anxiously at his chest.
The memory of being torn open by that monstrous frog’s claws was too clear. He needed to see for himself that there was no wound.
The mirror showed nothing but smooth skin—no blood, no scars, not even the slightest scratch. It was as though none of it had ever happened. Yu Sheng frowned, pressing his fingertips into the spot where he could have sworn there had been a terrible injury. Nothing. He was whole and unharmed.
“That was just… insane,” he muttered under his breath. He left the bathroom, feeling more bewildered than ever.
Behind him, unseen, the mirror over the sink quietly cracked into a spiderweb of fine lines. Just as silently, the fractures vanished, and the mirror became smooth again, leaving no trace of what had occurred.
Yu Sheng returned to the living room and sat heavily on the old couch, trying to piece together his tangled thoughts. He didn’t know how much time passed before his eyes slipped closed and sleep claimed him, exhaustion weighing him down until he was too tired to think anymore.
He slept deeply, until a sudden, sharp “thunk” jolted him awake. The sound reminded him of metal striking stone—like someone shoveling hard earth. Yu Sheng’s eyes flew open. Darkness filled the room. He was certain he had left the light on before drifting off.
A cold chill skittered down his spine. He reached quietly for the baton he kept close by. It wasn’t much, but in a place like this, you needed at least something to defend yourself. He rose to his feet, moving slowly, listening hard for any hint of an intruder.
This manor was old and mostly empty. If someone had snuck in, it wouldn’t be impossible. Thieves were at least human, he thought, gripping the baton tighter. A common burglar would be easier to deal with than another slimy, gigantic frog monster.
But all was silent. No footsteps creaking on the floorboards, no doors opening or closing. No strange croaking sounds, either. Just silence.
He crept toward the light switch by the wall, guided by a faint glow from outside. When he flicked it on, the room was flooded with light again, revealing everything at once.
The living room looked the same as ever—old furniture, dusty shelves, peeling wallpaper. Nothing seemed disturbed. Still, something felt wrong, though he couldn’t say what. He clenched the baton, forced himself to be brave, and went from room to room on the first floor.
The living room, the kitchen, the dining area, the small empty room at the back—all looked as they always had, quiet and still.
Then he headed for the stairs and climbed up to the second floor, his steps careful and slow.
There were three rooms upstairs: his own bedroom, a storage room, and one more door at the very end of the hall—always locked and never opened. Not once since the day he’d moved in had he managed to get that door open.
He checked his bedroom first—nothing unusual. The storage room was the same. Only one door remained.
He stood before the locked door at the end of the hallway. When he first arrived, he’d tried everything to get it open—tools, drills, saws. None of them had made even the smallest scratch on the door. Three different locksmiths had promised to help. The first two never even made it here; they got lost trying to find Wutong Road in the Old City District. The third one got into a motorcycle accident at the intersection and never arrived. It was as if something didn’t want anyone to open this door, no matter what.
Yes, even though this old manor gave him some sense of security, it had its own brand of strangeness.
Yu Sheng took a deep breath and wrapped his hand around the doorknob. He tried to turn it, but as always, it refused to budge. It felt utterly ordinary—just locked tight.
Nothing happened. No one rushed out. No strange sounds. Just a stubborn door.
But just as he was about to release the knob, he heard something on the other side—a soft, mocking laugh. It was a quiet giggle, the voice of a young woman, and it sent all the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. It was as though she was laughing at his feeble attempts, enjoying how helpless he was before this locked door.
Yu Sheng’s heart pounded. There was someone in there. Someone had been behind that locked door all this time, silently occupying a room inside his own home.
But how was that possible? How could she be alive in there, with no way out, no sign of food or water?
Ch3 and there’s already a squatter in his house, what a pity.