Grace Lincoln was not a girl who liked to pry into others’ privacy, but she still felt it was necessary to know a bit about her neighbors.

Grace Lincoln crouched down and tilted her head to peek inside. She saw a young man, shirtless, sitting on the bed in the small room. On the laptop in front of him, an adult film starring Maria Ozawa and Taka Kato was playing. The small room was littered with used tissues, covering both the floor and the bed.

The corpse stench that Jason Grant mentioned was nowhere to be smelled by Grace Lincoln, but the fishy odor in the room was so strong it felt like she’d walked into a wet market.

The man sitting on the bed, his arm still moving up and down, suddenly turned his head to look at the door. His face was as ghastly as a skull, scaring Grace Lincoln so much that she stumbled back two steps and bumped into Jason Grant's arms.

“Don’t be afraid, the guy inside is human. He’s just done it so much he’s not far from death,” Jason Grant whispered to comfort her.

“Get your filthy hands off me! You pervert!” Grace Lincoln quickly pulled away from Jason Grant's embrace. To her, Jason Grant was just as disgusting as the guy in the room.

“We’re here. This is the last room, and I won’t be taking any more tenants. The number is just right.” The landlady leading the way opened the tightly shut door, revealing a tiny room of just about six square meters. The bed and bedding were all ready; you could move in with just your bag—every tenant’s favorite setup.

“It’s pretty clean. Are these sheets new?” Grace Lincoln rushed into the room ahead of everyone, plopping down on the bed. After resting for just ten seconds, she felt all her fatigue melt away.

She didn’t care at all what Jason Grant thought. She had already opened her suitcase and started taking out her things at lightning speed, just like those Chinese aunties snatching up gold.

“She seems to really like this room. What about you?” Leaning against the doorframe, the landlady sized up Jason Grant.

Chewing the last bit of candy in his mouth, Jason Grant turned his head and said seriously in a low voice, “Dead is dead. Why bother with all this?”

“What did you say? I don’t understand.” The landlady crossed her arms under her chest, lifting her massive 36F bust, and gave Jason Grant a flirtatious look.

“Still not willing to show your true face? Little Jason…” Jason Grant sighed helplessly.

Suddenly, a cockroach crawled out from his jacket pocket, climbed up the strap of the wooden box on Jason Grant's shoulder, over his neck, and finally stopped on top of his head, facing the landlady.

This thing only vaguely resembled the cockroaches we usually see. It had a plump body, at least seven centimeters long, but no wings.

The Little Jason twitched its long antennae, moved its tiny mouth, and said, “Ghost landlady, a resentful human spirit. Attracts young men to move in with cheap shared apartments, lures tenants with free Wi-Fi and countless porn sites, making them masturbate excessively to drain their spiritual energy, which is then absorbed through the house’s barrier. Classified as an evil spirit, level 2 star, harm index 70. But those boobs are truly rare in this world—personal rating, ten out of ten.”

“Who are you…” the ghost landlady asked in a low, deep voice.

“Paranormal investigator from the Underworld Affairs Bureau. This is my ghost pet identifier—Little Jason. No matter how you try to argue, as long as it gets a sniff, it’ll know everything about you. Impressive, right? Downside is, it’s a total pervert.” Jason Grant pointed at the cockroach on his head with a smile, then said seriously, “You now have the right to remain silent. Anything you say no longer matters. You have the right to request a professional exorcist for a crossing-over ritual. If you can’t afford one, the government will assign one for you at no cost. Of course, in the end, you’ll still be exorcised.”

“Hey, you, don’t move.” For some reason, Grace Lincoln walked over, looking as nervous as if she’d seen a ghost, clutching an English dictionary so tightly her trembling fingernails were about to dig into the paper.

“What are you trying to do? I’m warning you, calm down, don’t do anything rash.” A sense of foreboding welled up in Jason Grant's mind.

“Ah! Filthy cockroach! Die!” Grace Lincoln swung the dictionary, thick as a brick, down with all her might. It was hard to imagine how a girl could have such strength.

“Girl, if you hit any harder, he’s done for. If you really kill him, you won’t make it out of this haunted house tonight.” The supposedly dead Little Jason actually crawled onto Grace Lincoln's shoulder.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Grace Lincoln screamed at the top of her lungs, tears streaming down her face in terror.

“That’s enough!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Suddenly, the ghost landlady, who had been silent all this time, let out a furious roar. The sound was so sharp it tore the wallpaper from the walls, and even the lightbulb overhead shattered from the shock. Yet the red glow in the room did not fade; everything remained bathed in blood-red light.

Grace Lincoln was completely stunned, even forgetting about the fat cockroach that had just been crawling on her shoulder.

In the hallway, in an instant, only a deathly silence remained. All that could be heard was the breathing of Grace Lincoln and Jason Grant.