Their lives were so happy—cooking together, playing video games together, traveling together. Every photo on the wall was taken by Mark Grant for Martha Grant; those smiles represented an indescribable happiness.

Martha Grant was five years older than Mark Grant, and she was a strong-willed woman. Like an older sister, she was always pushing her younger boyfriend to improve himself, telling him to be ambitious: “A DSLR will bankrupt three generations, DOTA will ruin your life.”

Sometimes they would argue, but in the end, it always ended with tearful embraces, passionate kisses, or even sex.

But then, one day, during a peaceful dinner, Martha Grant said she wanted to change cars and needed to convert her fixed deposit into liquid funds at the bank, asking Mark Grant to go with her.

Mark Grant just replied “Oh,” and after dinner, returned to the room. While Martha Grant was busy at the sink washing dishes, Mark Grant suddenly appeared behind her with a fishing line in his hand, ruthlessly tightening it around Martha Grant’s neck.

Blood spurted out just as Martha Grant had once described, staining her white nightgown bright red. As he killed Martha Grant, Mark Grant kept crying and repenting.

Because Mark Grant had secretly stolen Martha Grant’s bank card and spent all 500,000 yuan in savings, he was afraid of Martha Grant’s questioning, and even more afraid she would call the police. He didn’t want to go to jail, but ironically, he wasn’t afraid of killing.

Martha Grant died. In her struggle, blood even splattered onto the chandelier on the ceiling, making the room look as crimson as it did when Grace Lincoln first arrived.

Mark Grant twisted the frail body of Martha Grant into a grotesque posture, packed her into a suitcase using a vacuum bag, cleaned up all traces in the room, then called the police, fooling them with a “ran away from home” note that Martha Grant had once written as a joke.

From then on, Mark Grant disappeared from this house, perhaps even from this city…

The lonely Martha Grant could only quietly stay in the torn vacuum bag, rotting away bit by bit.

“Now, do you know how miserable I am? Men are nothing but beasts, and you still expect that pervert to save you?” Silently, a pair of pale arms wrapped around Grace Lincoln’s neck, and the whisper by her ear made Grace Lincoln scream in terror.

Jason Grant spun around instantly at the sound of the scream, launching himself forward, but Martha Grant was a step quicker, leaping out of the room.

With a bang, Jason Grant crashed heavily into the door. Though it looked like a wooden door, it was sturdier than steel.

This was a ghost’s barrier—a death trap for humans, but for Jason Grant…

He pulled out a three-inch-long black coffin nail and a small hammer from behind his waist, knelt on one knee in the center of the living room, placed a packet of black dog’s blood underneath, and hammered the nail into the floor.

In an instant, the surrounding walls, floor, furniture, and photos all shattered into countless fragments, scattering like a broken mirror, revealing the rooftop of the apartment building.

Nine male tenants, exhausted from excessive masturbation, lay twitching on the platform, still deeply trapped in the dream created by Martha Grant.

Meanwhile, the vanished Martha Grant had tightly locked her arms around Grace Lincoln’s neck, standing with her at the edge of the platform. At this height, just one glance back from Grace Lincoln would probably make her faint.

“Man, you’re pretty impressive, breaking my barrier so easily? Do you really want to save this woman? If you jump off from here to prove your love, I’ll let her go.” Martha Grant said with a chilling smile.

“Don’t joke with me. The stupidest thing a man can do is die for a woman, because that woman will just run off with someone else after you’re dead. I’ve been holding back because I feel sorry for you, and besides, those guys over there aren’t dead, so you haven’t really killed anyone. I wanted to help you move on… But you keep forcing my hand, wasabi!” Jason Grant suddenly shouted.

This strange code word was lost on Martha Grant, but for once, Grace Lincoln reacted quickly, squeezing all the wasabi she’d been holding straight into her mouth.

The intense sensation made Grace Lincoln’s face flush bright red, her whole body burning as if on fire—even Martha Grant was forced to loosen her grip.

Grace Lincoln broke free from Martha Grant’s embrace, falling onto the platform floor, while Martha Grant was pushed off the building.

“Is it over?” Lying on the cold ground, Grace Lincoln propped herself up, tears in her eyes, feeling relieved.

“Not bad, you’ve got potential!” Jason Grant rushed over, patting Grace Lincoln on the shoulder in praise.

“Is she… dead?” Grace Lincoln asked, trembling.

“Don’t be silly. You just squeezed some wasabi into your mouth and pushed someone off a dozen floors. It’s not that easy to die—she’s a ghost, after all.”

Suddenly, a hole was punched through the insulation board in the center of the platform, and a corpse wrapped in a tattered vacuum bag crawled out.

“Again?!” Grace Lincoln gasped in shock.

“Don’t be afraid, she can’t hurt you. She just doesn’t understand that even if a weakling becomes a ghost, they still can’t become strong.” Jason Grant’s face turned even colder than a ghost’s.

Chapter 4: The Recruitment Email from the Underworld Affairs Bureau