This place no longer resembled the flooded first floor.
Takakai's gaze swept cautiously across the dry, well-kept hallway.
No water. Not even dust. The walls bore cracks but no cobwebs or peeling paint.
Above, a pristine ceiling lamp cast warm yellow light.
He moved forward, rounding the corner—
And froze.
A photo album sat on a side table.
Inside were pictures of a golden-haired, blue-eyed child—laughing, playing, vibrant.
A tall blond man appeared in many shots: lifting the child in joy, watching her with tender eyes. The final photo showed a sleeping infant beside a handwritten note:
["You are my whole world."]
Sanchez and his daughter.
Takakai's chest tightened.
If the apartment's exit led to China, how had Sanchez managed visits? The logistics—flights, visas, explaining his sudden existence to authorities—would've been impossible.
He never saw her again.
No wonder he'd risked everything to investigate 304.
Takakai reached for the rope at his waist—
It was gone.
Not cut. Vanished entirely.
His clothes, once soaked, were now bone-dry. Only the rescue badge and black wristwatch remained.
Just like when I first woke in this hellhole.
He stepped forward, reaching the living room door.
Beside it hung a clock—identical to the second floor's, but frozen in time.
Takakai leaned close, studying his reflection in its polished surface—
A shattered face.
Crushed by a truck.
His "identity" here wasn't "living" but corpse.
Just like before, he was reliving a fragment of the past.
The living room was a labyrinth of information.
Photos, newspaper clippings, and handwritten notes dangled from strings. Walls plastered with documents. A desk buried under books and shredded paper. An old desktop computer hummed faintly, the scent of ink lingering thickly.
Takakai plucked a clipped page from the air:
["China's Top Urban Legend: The Vanishing Apartment!"]
["A cursed building whose residents cannot escape—even in death."]
Another scrap:
["Missing Rescuers: Mass Hysteria or Cover-Up?"]
He moved along the walls, absorbing every detail.
Sanchez's research.
Years of digging through archives, interrogating survivors, piecing together the apartment's secrets.
Key findings:
The apartment "erased" itself from public records. Even neighboring residents forgot its existence.
Survivors who left could briefly reconnect with loved ones—but casual acquaintances gradually forgot them.
Xusheng's rescue uniform hidden in a closet. Why? Was he part of the original evacuation team?
304's records were destroyed. Only its move-in date remained.
All residents from 304's era died within a year of the flood.
A dispute between 304 and 309. The original complaint tape existed but required a vintage player.
Most chilling of all:
["Xusheng… if you're really alive, why can't I find any trace of you?"]
At the desk, Takakai opened a journal.
["I copied 309's key. Snuck in while Xusheng was out."]
["Nothing. No anomalies—day or night."]
["Maybe 304 is the only path left."]
Pages were missing or blank, but one entry stood out:
["6th Exploration of 304"]
["The layout shifts like a maze. Distract 'them' with noise to move safely."]
Eleven more entries detailed repeated infiltrations.
Sanchez had identified three "residents":
Li Youcai (adult male) - Drunk, abusive. Massive gambling debts.
Xu Jiazhen (adult female) - His battered wife.
Li Meng (boy) - Quiet, oddly named.
But four sets of tableware always appeared at meals.
And the "knocking spirit's" cries didn't match the boy's voice—
["It sounds more like a little girl."]
The final legible entry:
["21st Exploration"]
["I've learned her name—"]
The rest was torn out.
Takakai closed his eyes.
The stench of alcohol.
Wheezy breathing behind him.
A woman's cough. Slow footsteps circling his chair.
A child's giggle—fingers poking his back.
Don't move.
Don't react.
For minutes, the presence loomed—
Then faded.
When the air cleared, Takakai turned the page—
Ripped edges.
["22nd Exploration—"]
Gone.
Only one conclusion remained:
304 hid a fourth victim.
A girl no records remembered.
And whatever Sanchez discovered in that 21st visit…
Got him killed.