The temperature in the restroom suddenly dropped by more than ten degrees without warning. At the same time, his eyes burned, as if flames were flickering within them.

Just then, a bubbling, gurgling sound came from between his legs. He looked down in confusion, and at that moment, William Thompson's anus tightened abruptly, as if a sword had split down from his crown, sending chills across his scalp.

In the urinal, a pale human face surfaced, its eyes hollow, meeting William Thompson's gaze as he looked down.

Their eyes met, and it was as if time itself had frozen.

William Thompson: Σ（っ°Д°；）っ

William Thompson let out a scream, leaping three feet into the air, and retreated to the restroom door like a startled rabbit. His eyes were fixed on the toilet, and his trembling hands fumbled with his pants. He moved quickly, but his arms shook so violently that he couldn't pull them up for quite a while.

“What’s wrong?” David Harris knocked on the door, then pushed it open.

William Thompson was pressed against the wall, huddled behind the door, staring at the toilet, cold sweat beading on his forehead.

David Harris followed his gaze but saw nothing. Puzzled, he asked, “What are you yelling about? You scared the hell out of me.”

He couldn’t see it, but a head was slowly emerging from the toilet, revealing half of a lifeless, chilling face, staring straight at both him and William Thompson.

Then, it crawled out.

Sarah Bolton!

William Thompson shuddered, gently pushing David Harris aside. “You go out first, I still need to use the restroom…”

What you dwell on will always come back to you. Sarah Bolton was here for him, so it wouldn’t be good to drag David Harris into this.

Great-grandma once said, if a person didn’t die unjustly, their resentment wouldn’t be strong, and they wouldn’t turn into a vengeful spirit. If they weren’t a vengeful spirit, they wouldn’t be very aggressive.

If it was aggressive, William Thompson wouldn’t panic either—he’d just recite the “Core Socialist Values” twelve times in a row. If that didn’t work, he’d run home and call for his ancestor to save him.

He pushed the person out and closed the door. William Thompson swallowed hard and tried to greet, “Hi, s-school hunk bro.”

His legs were trembling slightly, but his emotions were a mix of fear and excitement—the kind of feeling you get watching a horror movie, only magnified tenfold.

Sarah Bolton, with a corpse-like face and hollow eyes, slowly floated in front of William Thompson.

“Run, run quickly…”

Chapter 9

The School Hunk’s Death Incident (Part 2)

Run?

“Why should I run? Is there something you want to tell me, sir?” William Thompson addressed him respectfully.

Sarah Bolton floated in front of him, his face deathly pale. Even more disturbing, his eyes had no pupils, only whites. “Run… run quickly.”

At first, William Thompson didn’t dare move, like a little mouse cornered against the wall, his back pressed to it, panicking both inside and out. But Sarah Bolton didn’t seem to want to harm him.

Does he want me to run?

Or maybe something happened to him before he died, so his obsession with escaping is so strong?

William Thompson tried to communicate, but Sarah Bolton ignored him, just staring blankly and repeating, “Run quickly, run quickly.”

Those cataract-like eyes made William Thompson’s skin crawl. He quietly moved aside, only to find Sarah Bolton was still staring at the wall, his gaze empty, repeating the same words.

So he wasn’t looking at me after all.

Completely unable to communicate. The rich kid died and turned into the village idiot?

Is this just an especially dumb ghost, or are all spirits like this?

William Thompson was still inexperienced and couldn’t say for sure.

“Well, you take your time, sir. I’ll be leaving now.” William Thompson carefully edged around Sarah Bolton, preparing to open the door and leave.

If you want to stay here, be my guest. My roommates can’t see you anyway. And this dumb ghost doesn’t seem dangerous.

He didn’t have any ghostly tricks up his sleeve either. His only ability right now was seeing ghosts. And since Sarah Bolton had met his gaze but hadn’t killed him, it meant this wasn’t a vengeful spirit.

Hand on the doorknob, just about to turn it, he suddenly heard Sarah Bolton mumble behind him, “Jessica Reed… run, run quickly…”

William Thompson froze, turned around, his face serious, and pressed, “What about Jessica Reed? What do you mean, run quickly?”

But no matter how much William Thompson asked, he couldn’t get a normal response from Sarah Bolton.

Jessica Reed was a famous beauty in the finance department, still single. She and William Thompson had been classmates since middle and high school, and were still classmates in college. They had a good relationship.

William Thompson might be a bit of a flirt, but it was really just pure friendship.

Why would Sarah Bolton call out Jessica Reed’s name?

Was his death related to Jessica Reed?

Or maybe the person he was with that night was Jessica Reed, and something must have happened afterward, which is why Sarah Bolton kept saying “run quickly.”

He wasn’t in the mood to dwell on the heartbreak of another rich kid sleeping with a campus beauty. Since it involved his friend Jessica Reed, he had to get to the bottom of it.

William Thompson left the dumb ghost behind and pushed open the door. “David, I’m heading out for a bit.”

He had just stepped out when he turned back, rummaged through the wardrobe for a clean pair of under…wear, and walked into the bathroom with a dark expression.

There was shit in his pants…

Goddammit.

He’d been so scared by Sarah Bolton’s humiliating scream that he’d completely forgotten to properly wipe his delicate behind.