Chapter 021 - Moonlit Mirage 08

  I pressed my lips together and said, “Let’s head back to the third floor.”

  Elliot frowned, adjusting his glasses. “Why? The third floor is higher than the second, meaning we’ll be the first to encounter danger. Besides, the second floor is probably the most crowded right now. Blending in would be safer.”

  “Then stay here,” I replied coolly. “I just need to drop something off. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  I grabbed the small hand drum we had found earlier and started up the stairs. When I glanced back, both of them were still following me. I sighed.

  “It’s for the old man,” I explained.

  Elliot raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t care about him.”

  No. 137, ever the sentimental one, smiled, her voice brimming with admiration. “I knew it, bro—you’re the best…”

  I blinked at her. “…”

  Keeping my voice low, I said, “Like I told you before, this isn’t a zero-sum game. The more of us there are, the higher our chances of winning. As long as the three of us survive, of course I want him to make it too.”

  When we reached No. 9, he was leaning against his cane, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings as if he had expected something—or someone. I stepped forward and placed the small drum into his hands. His gaze flicked from me to the object, momentary surprise flashing across his face.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  I tapped the drumhead lightly. “It’s made of skin. Not sure if it’ll save your life, but it’s better than nothing.”

  The old man’s fingers traced the drum’s surface, his brows furrowing. Just as he opened his mouth to speak—

  THUD.

  The sound echoed from the staircase leading down from the fourth floor.

  A foot appeared at the top of the stairs.

  I barely had time to process what I was seeing before the figure began to descend. Not walking—hopping. Step by step, a slow, rhythmic motion, like a marionette being pulled downward by an unseen hand.

  I stiffened. “So fast?”

  Before I could finish my thought, Yangjin suddenly leapt.

  Skipping a dozen steps at once, she landed gracefully in the middle of the third floor, her presence exuding something cold and unnatural.

  My pulse pounded.

  *So it’s easier to go down than up, huh?*

  Something about her seemed… different. Not that she had ever looked *normal* to begin with. She existed in a space between life and death—her movements too fluid, her form too eerie, something inhuman lurking beneath the surface.

  But it wasn’t until she took a single step forward, tilting her head toward the nearest person and grinning, that I realized what had changed.

  Her voice, soft and lilting, carried across the tense silence.

  “Has anyone found my skin?”

  A slow dread curled in my gut.

  I could see her mouth now.

  Her long, dark hair still veiled everything above her lips, but her mouth and chin were fully visible.

  Deathly pale skin.

  A fragment of a spiderweb tattoo curled around her throat.