The lingering warmth of the shower had left Taesha feeling refreshed and grounded. She'd slipped into a pair of loose, silk pajama pants and an oversized cashmere sweater, prioritizing comfort over style. Her long, dark hair was hastily piled into a messy bun, strands escaping to frame her face. She sat on the plush sofa, phone in hand, eyes closed in a moment of quiet contemplation.
It was then that she felt it – a subtle shift in her perception. A new layer of awareness peeled back, revealing a world she hadn't known existed. It wasn't a dramatic revelation; rather, a gentle unfolding, like a flower slowly unfurling its petals.
She'd been contemplating cultivation – the arduous path to spiritual enlightenment – and the frustrating lack of merit she possessed to even begin.
The thought of accumulating merit felt like an endless, pointless chore. Her spiritual energy, she instinctively knew, was vast and potent, a boundless ocean of potential. Yet, her Qi – the vital life force that fueled cultivation – was a volatile mix of creation and destruction, a chaotic force that resisted discipline and control. It was like having the raw materials for a magnificent sculpture but lacking the skill or patience to shape them.
As she sat there, scrolling aimlessly through her phone, a flurry of chattering voices broke through her thoughts. At first, she dismissed it as the ambient noise of the city filtering through the soundproofed windows. But then she realized… it wasn't coming from outside.
It was coming from inside her apartment.
She paused her scrolling and focused, straining to decipher the source of the unusual sounds.
The voices were small, high-pitched, and undeniably… animalistic. They were arguing, bickering even, in a language she couldn't consciously understand. Yet, somehow, she did understand. It was as if the meaning of their words bypassed her intellect and went straight to her intuition.
"Brother, how should we warn our pretty sister that a serial killer has been watching her?" A chubby voice squeaked, punctuated by the rhythmic crunching of something being chewed.
"Yes, but how can our pretty sister understand us? We're animals!" The older voice responded, laced with a worried tremor.
"Ever since she moved into the Zong Penthouse Complex, those creepy evil spirits dare not come here."
Taesha's mind stuttered to a halt. She could understand animals?
The realization hit her with the force of a physical blow, momentarily stunning her into stillness. It was an absurd, fantastical notion, ripped straight from the pages of a cultivation novel. Yet, here she was, comprehending the frantic conversation of two squirrels arguing about a serial killer.
Her expression remained meticulously blank, a carefully constructed mask of indifference. Even her heart seemed to have frozen over, beating with a slow, deliberate rhythm. This was new. Unexpected. But it didn't trigger the panic or fear she expected. It merely registered as another anomaly in a life already brimming with them.
"Poor pretty sister," the chubby squirrel continued, its voice laced with genuine concern.
"Not only will she be killed, but sigh, forget it, brother! When our pretty sister dies, won't these poor elderly people suffer as well? After all, from the moment beautiful sister came here, everyone has not been haunted!"
The sheer earnestness of the squirrels' concern was almost comical. Taesha found herself drawn to the window, a strange curiosity overriding her usual detachment.
She moved with a swiftness that belied her languid demeanor, reaching the expansive glass and gazing out at the meticulously manicured balcony gardens.
She spotted them immediately – two squirrels, one plump and energetic, the other older and more reserved, perched on a trellis laden with fragrant jasmine.
Without a second thought, she opened the window and beckoned them closer.
"Hey you two, am I that 'pretty sister' you are talking about?"
The two squirrels blinked at her with wide, adorably innocent eyes. The chubby one, emboldened by her calm tone, scurried closer to the window ledge and nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Yes! That's you, pretty sister!"
"Wait, pretty sister, you can understand us?!" The chubby squirrel squeaked, its tiny body vibrating with excitement.
The older squirrel, more cautious and dignified, stepped forward.
"Pretty sister," he said, his voice a surprisingly deep rumble for such a small creature.
"For the past four weeks, a man has been watching you secretly, as if memorizing your schedule. There's a poster of that person."
Taesha's expression didn't change, but a flicker of something – not quite fear, but perhaps a detached acknowledgement of danger – crossed her eyes. She simply nodded. "Do you have that poster?"
The chubby squirrel, practically bursting with eagerness to help, darted out of the window with astonishing speed. It returned moments later, clutching a crumpled piece of paper in its tiny paws and presenting it to Taesha with a flourish.
She took the paper, her gaze sweeping over the stark black and white image printed upon it. It was a wanted poster.
Wanted Poster
Dead or Alive
Name: Leo Black
Nickname: Butcher
Age: 58
Criminal Rank: C
Background: Butcher has killed over 48 women and girls. He is famously known for dismembering and playing with the victim and also forces himself upon those young and old women. If one has any information, please inform any station.
Reward: 100,000 for any information if Butcher is caught; reward is 500,000 if caught.
Taesha stared at the poster, a subtle furrow appearing between her brows. A serial killer was stalking her? The absurdity of the situation momentarily threatened to crack her carefully constructed facade of indifference.
Yet, instead of fear, she felt a strange sense of… detachment. It was as if she were observing a scene unfolding on a distant screen, rather than experiencing it firsthand.
For some reason, Taesha felt remarkably calm, almost bored by the revelation.