Volume One

Chapter 1

A woman in white, with short hair, was sitting at the desk with her back to him.

It was nighttime, the moonlight like gauze, and the woman had her hands on the desk, completely motionless.

No lights, no sounds.

Everything around was silent.

William Clark lay in bed, his head wrapped in the blanket, watching the woman at the desk from the side.

He found it strange. He remembered going to bed at nine thirty, and judging by the sky now, it was at most three or four in the morning.

This was his bedroom. When he woke up, he saw a woman sitting at his desk.

Where did this woman come from...?

He squinted. With his nearly five hundred degrees of nearsightedness, all he could make out was that it was a woman in white, seemingly quite young.

But where would a woman in white come from in his house? His mom never wore white, and his sister was away at college, always in her school uniform.

The silence was terrifying.

William Clark frowned, blinking hard, trying to see clearly who the woman sitting there was.

But it was too dark at night; he couldn't see anything clearly.

What made it even more terrifying was that he couldn't move his body!

In a daze, he seemed to hear people talking, chatting. The voices were right behind him, right by his bed, in a place he couldn't see.

The voices were so close, as if the speakers were staring at him while whispering right against his back.

He could almost imagine two people, staring at him with strange, cold eyes, chatting in low, indistinct voices.

William Clark felt goosebumps break out all over his body.

Crack.

Another sharp sound rang out.

It seemed the door had opened, and someone had come in.

In an instant, all the sounds disappeared. William Clark snapped back to himself and saw the woman in white by the desk slowly and silently stand up, still with her back to him, not moving.

Her long white sleeves hung like the sleeves of a gown, loose and empty. Her movements were stiff and precise, almost mechanical.

"...I..."

William Clark wanted to speak, but to his horror, he found he couldn't make a sound.

His whole body felt like it was cramping, uncontrollably tense and trembling. Cold sweat soaked through his undershirt, and he felt his jaw chattering violently on its own.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

Footsteps sounded crisply at the door, coming to a stop at the foot of the bed, as if the person had stopped moving.

William Clark was terrified. He tried desperately to shrink into the blanket, to relax his body as much as possible, to lie flat, hoping that the newcomer and the woman in white wouldn't notice anyone in the bed.

He thought that if he could just lie flat enough, maybe they'd think it was just a thick blanket on the bed.

But his body wouldn't move. His legs and back were cramping badly. He had to use all his strength just to suppress the trembling and pain.

Tap, tap, tap...

He heard the footsteps coming toward the head of the bed.

William Clark's fear reached its peak.

He wanted to close his eyes, to avoid seeing what was about to happen, but the inexplicable terror made it impossible even to blink.

Thud!!!

Suddenly, a pair of icy hands thrust into the blanket and grabbed his feet.

Ah!!!!!

William Clark screamed and sat bolt upright in bed, drenched in sweat, his face deathly pale, eyes wide open, bloodshot.

Huff, huff, huff, huff...

He lowered his head, gasping for fresh air.

"I... had that dream again..." He curled up his legs, touching the spot where the cold hands had just grabbed him.

There was nothing there, just like usual—no marks, no pain.

But the feeling from just now was still vivid, incredibly clear.

Sunlight streamed in through the window; it was already bright outside.

William Clark got out of bed, just as someone knocked on the door.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Were you just shouting?"

His sister's voice came from outside the door, sounding a bit worried.

William Clark wiped his forehead with both hands, drenched in sweat. He took a deep breath.

"It's nothing, just a nightmare."

"As long as you're okay. You've been jumpy lately—did something happen at school?" his sister asked again.

"It's nothing... really, just a nightmare." William Clark paused, then replied.

"Breakfast is ready. Get up and have some hot milk, it'll make you feel better." His sister comforted him, then turned and left.

William Clark sat on the edge of the bed, replaying the dream in his mind.

It wasn't the first time he'd had this dream.

Three nights in a row, it was always the same dream. The ending was always the same: he was grabbed by the feet, unable to move.

Instinctively touching his feet, William Clark stood up, walked to the desk, and with a swish, pulled open the curtains.