"You say this place is dangerous," Gavin Moore said, clearly adopting a reckless, asking-for-trouble attitude, which only made the investigator more anxious.
"But isn't it just a normal apartment?"
"The original tenant of 2507 committed suicide," the scarred investigator replied.
"Do not stay here just because the rent is cheap."
His face was so badly disfigured that his expression was unreadable, but the urgency in his voice made one thing clear—Apartment 2507 was a serious problem.
"Why?" Gavin narrowed his eyes.
"Was Mr. Zhao's death not an accident? Was he murdered?"
"Don't ask why!"
Sweat slid down the investigator's scars as he pointed to his own ruined face.
"If you don't want to end up like me, move out immediately!"
It was obvious the investigator knew more than he was saying.
That only made Gavin more curious.
"You have to give us a reason," Gavin insisted.
"Anyone would refuse if told to leave without explanation."
"It's not just you," the investigator said, lowering his voice.
"Until the abnormal source is confirmed, everyone on this floor must relocate."
He had seen Gavin the night before and knew he wasn't easy to fool.
"You captured the Rainy Night Killer. I admit you're brave.
But some dangers are invisible. Those things are the real reason behind the recent murders in the Old Harbor District!"
"Those things…?" Gavin asked, intrigued rather than afraid.
"The more you know, the easier it is for them to latch onto you," the investigator said earnestly.
"Everything I'm doing is to protect you. I hope you can trust me."
Neither Gavin nor Vivian Shaw moved.
"You really won't cry until you see the coffin," the investigator snapped.
Gavin lowered his head slowly.
He wasn't sure whether he would cry at the sight of a coffin—but Vivian would probably treat it like a capsule hotel.
"If you refuse to leave," the investigator warned,
"then remember this carefully."
"Replace everything the dead man used.
Day or night—do not imitate his actions.
And do not experience the same emotions he felt while alive."
"I understand replacing objects," Gavin frowned.
"But what do you mean by 'don't imitate him'?"
"If someone feels the same emotions, in the place where he died…"
"…will he come back?"
The investigator didn't answer.
He didn't deny it either.
After delivering the warning, he went upstairs to continue his investigation.
"The investigator from New Shanghai knows far more than he's saying," Vivian murmured as she stepped behind Gavin, her gaze dangerous and alluring.
"Now… no one will interrupt us."
She closed the security door.
Softly approaching Gavin, her lips barely moved as she whispered:
"Your games are the overlap between two worlds.
You are the key that starts them early."
"What we need to do is simple," she continued.
"In the murder house, repeat the dead person's life.
Feel what he felt. Become him."
"Then his obsession—his resentment, pain, and regret—will return on their own.
Centered on you, the urban legend will be forcibly triggered."
Gavin's brow twitched.
"That sounds familiar," he said dryly.
"Didn't the investigator just warn us not to do exactly that?"
"Are you sure this won't blow up in our faces, ma'am?"
Vivian paused for half a second, then patiently explained:
"Urban legends are the most terrifying games.
Once fully formed, fear takes root in everyone who's heard the story.
It devours minds. We can't deal with it once it matures."
"So we only have one option—
trigger it early, and kill it in the cradle."
"I know people may die," she admitted calmly.
"But if we don't act, ten times—no, a hundred times more will die later."
Gavin couldn't deny her logic.
Even small-scale game distortions were already horrifying.
If full urban legends fused with the city, the consequences would be catastrophic.
"Some things can't be avoided," he said quietly.
"…Alright. I'll try."
Guided by Vivian, Gavin sat before the living room mirror, holding a blank death photo.
All lights were turned off.
Four white candles were lit at the corners of the room.
Flames flickered in the darkness.
Rain fell. Thunder rolled. Lightning tore across the sky.
Gavin steadied his breathing and closed his eyes.
He recalled everything he knew about the dead man.
Zack Zhao.
An abandoned infant, found beside a trash pile by the elderly woman on the third floor.
No education. Wore torn clothes growing up.
Bullied constantly—by neighborhood kids and the woman's second son.
He never fought back.
As an adult, Zack worked as a dock porter, earning money for his siblings' tuition.
Hardworking. Silent. Enduring.
Though exhausted, he smiled every day.
Everyone called him "Brother Zhao."
He became the kindest person in Lijing Apartments.
Unmarried. No children.
But whenever someone needed help, he was there.
When his younger brother went to prison, Zack stayed behind to care for his adoptive mother and pregnant sister-in-law.
Someone like that shouldn't choose suicide.
Everyone was shocked—except Gavin.
Zack's body had been failing for years.
After injuring his leg last year, he was fired.
No education. Disabled. Sick.
At home, he endured cold stares and constant scolding.
As a child who'd been picked up, he craved belonging more than anyone.
Yet no one respected him.
He had no outlet—only his phone.
Perhaps, to him, the phone understood him better than family ever did.
All his optimism, strength, and warmth were a mask.
He didn't want to be abandoned again.
The more he thought that way…
…the deeper the pain grew.
Hopelessness.
Powerlessness.
Becoming a burden.
Until finally—self-hatred.
The temperature dropped.
Negative emotions surged.
Gavin felt as if he'd returned to the night Zack Zhao died.
No lights.
Oppressive clouds.
No rope around his neck—yet breathing became harder.
The doors and windows weren't exits.
He was trapped in a forgotten corner of the world.
Alone.
Useless.
The mirror warped.
Shadows flooded the room.
Regret and obsession seeped into his soul.
A familiar chill crawled up his spine.
Gavin opened his eyes.
The candles were out.
Apartment 2507 was completely engulfed in darkness.
He looked at the mirror.
Inside it was a twisted, upside-down world.
BOOM!
A thunderous impact erupted below.
Gavin rushed to the balcony.
In the central courtyard of Lijing Apartments—
beside the stairwell of Building Two—
A corpse lay twisted.
Limbs bent unnaturally.
Neck snapped.
Its dead eyes stared straight up—
at the balcony of Apartment 2507.