Chapter 1: Tales from the Forum

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation

In the quiet of his bedroom, Miles, a senior in high school, was sprawled on his bed. He was idly flipping through various posts on his phone, a look of disinterest on his face. Eventually, he stumbled upon a particular post after noticing it had garnered a lot of attention, evident from the numerous comments below it.

One comment read, “I bet you’re lying in bed right now, reading a light novel, probably on your side, and I wouldn’t be surprised if your phone is plugged in and charging as well.”

“Wow,” someone replied in awe, “the original poster is like a psychic, hitting the nail on the head!”

Another chimed in humorously, “HA! Should I reveal that I’m actually in the bathroom, squatting over the toilet? My legs have gone completely numb, no joke!”

Someone else declared, “I’d get someone’s name tattooed on me and swear off being a wage slave forever.”

And yet another comment said, “That’s just how society rolls, always the same.”

After a brief skim, Miles lost interest and navigated to another post, one that was buzzing with activity. The opening line was from someone claiming to be a doctor: “I work at a certain Third General Hospital in our province. I need to share something chilling that recently happened at our hospital. It’s left me so terrified that I’m too scared to go to work. I’m at home, taking some time off.”

The responses varied:

“Don’t tell me more, I’m not interested in buying shoes or adding anyone on WeChat.”

“I bet the poster is being harassed by patients. If I’m wrong, I’ll eat shit and end it all.”

“Look at this guy, always scamming for free meals and drinks.”

Miles, finding the banter dull, adjusted the settings to display only the original post’s author’s comments.

The thread instantly became more focused, leaving only the words of the self-proclaimed doctor, who went by the online username ‘Thunder King.’

Thunder King’s post continued: “Here’s what went down. Last week, during my night shift, around midnight, we had an emergency. An ambulance rushed in an elderly man who had reportedly fallen from a fifth-floor balcony. At that moment, my colleague was tied up elsewhere, so the responsibility of assessing the situation fell solely on me. I immediately knew, with absolute certainty, that the man was long dead before the alleged fall.

Furthermore, a closer examination revealed that the man’s body temperature and physical condition didn’t align with a death caused by a fall that very night.

It’s basic knowledge that a human body, in a typical room temperature setting, loses about one degree of body heat per hour post-mortem. After 24 hours, the body temperature tends to stabilize close to the ambient temperature. However, the temperature of this elderly gentleman was significantly lower, at least ten degrees beneath the room’s twenty-two degrees, indicating that he had been dead for well over a day.”

Almost instantly, a netizen reacted to the post:

“That ‘bit of common sense’ the poster mentioned is chilling to the bone. I’m in awe of such insight,” they commented with a mix of respect and unease.

“Someone should check if the patient’s shoes are still on. If they are, maybe there’s still hope for him,” another quipped, trying to inject a bit of humor into the grim discussion.

A third person wrote, visibly shaken, “This is deeply unsettling. Please, keep us updated, poster. I’m already cowering under my blanket in fear.”

Miles, his curiosity piqued, continued to read through the unfolding narrative:

Thunder King added more to the story: “Relying on my extensive experience of watching over three hundred episodes of detective cartoons during my junior high years, I deduced that the elderly man’s death was no accident. It seemed more like a murder, and the body had likely been stored in a cold environment prior to being brought in. At that time, I didn’t hesitate to inform the police about my suspicions.”

“But today’s post isn’t about that incident. I want to discuss something even more bizarre that happened afterward.”

The post paused there, and it was noted that it had been updated two hours later.

“Apologies for the interruption earlier. Someone came to my door asking about the incident. They weren’t police officers or journalists, but they carried some kind of official identification. Regardless, I’ve decided not to dwell on it.

It was probably around two in the morning.

I hadn’t reported to work yet for my night shift, but a colleague informed me that the old man’s corpse, which had been brought in the previous night, had vanished mysteriously from the morgue. The police were all over it, suspecting the murderer might have returned to retrieve the body. The hospital was in an uproar. They scoured all the surveillance footage but found no trace of the old man’s body or the perpetrator.

That night, it was my turn to be on duty again.

The day’s events had unnerved me. Adding to the unease, one of the hospital patients claimed they saw the old man’s body, but it wasn’t being carried out – it was walking out by itself. This patient was even specific about the path the body took, a route that seemingly originated from the morgue’s direction.

Hearing this made me somewhat fearful, but as an atheist, I was skeptical of the patient’s account.

Later, the head nurse told me that Dr. Fang from the Neurology Department intended to increase this particular patient’s medication dosage, which somewhat calmed my nerves.

Indeed, not taking the patient’s claim seriously felt like the right move.

However, what I really want to talk about is something else that occurred during my shift that night.

It was probably around two in the morning. In the emergency room, I was deeply engrossed in playing the game Blue Moon. You can’t imagine how addictive this game is. If you’re a fellow gamer, come and challenge me.”

The responses from netizens were swift:

“Holy cow, poster, you’re a true legend,” one exclaimed in admiration.

“Where has all the sincerity gone? You really caught me off guard with that twist,” another commented, a mix of amusement and disbelief in their tone.

“Society, oh society,” a third chimed in, “I guessed the beginning but missed the ending. But hey, third commenter, where’s your promised feast of eating shit?”

The thread was bustling with activity, as a flurry of netizens joined in, making the forum lively.

Miles, sprawled in his bed, was mildly amused. “Is this how sophisticated advertising has become?” he wondered. But as he scrolled further, he sensed something unusual.

Thunder King then clarified in his post: “Sorry, sorry, I’m not here to promote anything. That night, something truly inexplicable and otherworldly occurred. It’s something you wouldn’t believe in a lifetime. Around 2:15 a.m., while I was engrossed in my game in the emergency room, I felt an eerie chill, similar to the one in the morgue, and my skin erupted in goosebumps.

And you know what happened next?

The old man, who had vanished from the morgue the day before, appeared outside the emergency room. It was unbelievable. He was moving, very slowly, step by step, towards the exterior of the hospital.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. I had confirmed that this old man was dead, and not just recently. How could he be walking now?

Was it a prank? An act? Some kind of medical anomaly?

In that moment, a thousand thoughts raced through my mind, but perhaps due to my frequent encounters with the deceased, I wasn’t overly scared. My first instinct was to grab my phone and snap a photo to post on my social media.

Here’s the photo, unedited and authentic.”

Miles scrolled down, and a photograph immediately came into view.

The image was strikingly clear. Through the glass window of the emergency room, an elderly man could be seen walking past outside.

The man was clad in a black, long coat with a vintage feel, his frame gaunt, his brown skin speckled with age spots. From the angle of the photograph, one of the man’s eyes was visible, and it was haunting – gray, empty, utterly devoid of life, exuding an unsettling stillness.

The photo wasn’t gory or graphic, yet the mere presence of the man captured in it was enough to send a shiver down one’s spine and set the scalp tingling with an inexplicable sense of dread.

The revelation by Thunder King, an on-duty doctor, that the figure in the photo had once been a cold, lifeless corpse, instilled a deep sense of fear in those viewing it.

The longer one gazed at the photo, the more unsettling it became.

It was akin to staring at someone who was not just deceased, but spectral, almost ghostly.

One netizen expressed their terror, “I’m scared to death, this photo is really frightening. The more I look at it, the more terrified I become. Where did you find this photo, poster?”

Another, disturbed by the man’s appearance, asked, “Why does this old man have so many spots on his hands? I have trypophobia.”

A third person explained, “Those are livor mortis spots. They indicate that this old man was indeed a corpse.”

Then, in a light-hearted attempt to dispel the fear, a netizen posted a picture of a Taoist priest, commenting, “Hey, evil spirits, be gone, I, Lam Ching-Ying, master exorcist!”

To which someone humorously replied, “Pfft, you’re Lam Ching-Ying? Then I must be a famous singer with a lolita voice.”

Despite these varied reactions, Thunder King continued his story: “The picture is real, I took it myself. Afterward, the old man just walked away from the hospital. I have no idea where he went. If anyone is from the same city as me, please be cautious. Although I’m an atheist, I believe some things can’t be ignored.

Wait, there’s someone knocking at my door again, probably to take a statement. I’ll return shortly to continue the story.”

But barely a minute after this post, Thunder King urgently messaged again: “Damn it, damn it, it’s the old man who left the hospital, that thing is standing right at my doorstep, knocking my door. I can see it clearly through the peephole. What should I do? I feel like I’ve stirred up something I shouldn’t have.”

A skeptical netizen asked, “Are you enjoying this prank, poster?”

While another expressed disbelief, “Whoa, is this for real? It can’t be this sinister, right?”

“Quickly, call for help, find someone who deals with ghosts,” another urged.

Yet another accused, “Stop pretending, poster, it must be fake. If it’s not, I’ll eat twice the amount of shit.”

And someone humorously pointed out, “You again, shit-eating boy, you still haven’t fulfilled your last promise, have you?”

Thunder King’s next post conveyed a growing sense of urgency and fear: “I’ve called the police, but I don’t know what to do now. That thing is still there, relentlessly knocking on my door. It seems determined not to leave. Just moments ago, the lights in my living room flickered out, and now, I’m too terrified to even consider venturing there.

I’ve barricaded myself in my room, with every available light switched on, yet the knocking persists, constant and unyielding.”

At this juncture, it was evident that Thunder King, the netizen, was typing in haste. His messages, sent less than thirty seconds apart, were laced with typos and errors, a clear sign of his panicked state.

Miles, reading from his phone, felt a shiver creep down his spine. Despite suspecting the story could be fabricated, the image of the deceased old man from the photo hauntingly knocking at someone’s door was unnervingly vivid.

The scenario was spine-chilling: an old man, already declared dead, coming back to life, and appearing at someone’s doorstep. Such an encounter would rattle even the bravest of souls.

The post took a more ominous turn: “This is bad, really bad. I can hear footsteps in my living room. I’m all alone here, and now I fear that the old man who was at my door has somehow entered. He must be in the living room now. But how? I didn’t hear any doors open. How did he get inside?

The footsteps have stopped, right outside my bedroom door.

The knocking has resumed, more ominous than before. I’ve got a terrible feeling about this. I’ve recorded the sound for evidence and left my phone number. If you can’t reach me, then it means something has happened to me. Please, anyone kind-hearted, report it: call 138

‘Thump, thump thump, thump, thump thump'”

An audio file was attached to the post. Playing it revealed a heavy, foreboding knocking sound, each thud resonating with a chilling, suffocating weight.

The post abruptly ended there.

Miles, scrolling down to the bottom, found only these chilling final words: “The old man has come inside…”

For those that just want to support me, you can follow the link to paypal donating. Sadly you won’t be able to get the benefit of reading ahead 

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