Karen walked from the third floor down to the living room on the first floor, opened the living room door, and the golden retriever immediately came over with a “pat-pat” sound, rubbing its face nonstop against Karen’s pajama pants.

Bending down, Karen reached out and patted the golden retriever’s head, planning to take it to the kitchen on the second floor to find something to eat.

But just as he reached the stairway,

Karen heard a strange man’s “sobbing and choking” coming from below.

On a quiet night, this sound was especially clear.

Karen took two steps back, glanced at the ramp leading to the basement, and tentatively walked down two steps. The sound became even clearer—you could almost picture an old man sitting in a corner, sobbing in grievance.

But Karen immediately retreated and didn’t go any further.

“Only the cannon fodder who dies in the first three minutes of a horror movie would go to the basement alone at a time like this out of some ridiculous curiosity.”

Karen didn’t scream or call for anyone, but instead went upstairs to the kitchen.

He poured a glass of milk, placed the cup in a large bowl, and poured in hot water to warm it up;

Then he picked up two pieces of bread, bit into one himself, and casually tossed the other in front of the golden retriever.

The golden retriever lowered its head, sniffed the bread, then disdainfully pushed it away, refusing to eat.

Looks like it’s already been fed.

Karen picked up the bread from the floor, then carried the milk up to the third floor.

When he reached the door to his own room, Karen hesitated for a moment, didn’t go in, but turned around and went to his grandfather’s bedroom door.

He reached out and knocked;

“Knock knock... knock knock...”

There was no response from inside.

Just as Karen was about to continue knocking,

He noticed that the door to his grandfather’s study next door was open, and his grandfather, dressed in a black robe, was standing at the study doorway.

“What is it?”

“Brought you a cup of hot milk, Grandpa.”

Karen handed the cup of hot milk to Dennis.

Dennis reached out and took it, taking a sip in front of Karen.

“Good night, Grandpa.”

“Good night.”

Dennis closed the study door.

Karen noticed that the light in the study was flickering, which meant Grandpa hadn’t turned on the light, but... was burning a candle.

Standing at the study door for almost three minutes,

Karen turned around, didn’t return to his own room, but went straight down the stairs, from the third floor back to the first floor.

When he stood again at the entrance to the basement ramp,

That “crying” sound came again.

“Hehehe...”

Karen couldn’t help but laugh out loud,

Then interlaced his fingers and tiptoed, doing warm-up exercises like before gym class,

“All right, let me come and take a look at you now.”

Chapter 7: Mutation!

He reached out,

Found the switch,

Turned it on,

With a “click,”

The light came on.

Karen continued down and entered the basement.

The sense of “fear” often doesn’t come from something tangible, but from “one’s own imagination.”

When the Inmeres family’s basement was renovated, they certainly wouldn’t have been foolish enough to design it with a “gloomy” or “oppressive” atmosphere, but at night, even if you painted all the walls Barbie pink, as long as you knew there were two corpses lying inside, you wouldn’t feel “cozy” or “cute.”

The crying continued.

It was coming from Aunt Mary’s studio.

Karen walked to the studio door. The door wasn’t locked... because you really couldn’t think of a reason to lock it.

Karen stopped, didn’t rush to turn the doorknob, but first looked back over his shoulder.

The corridor behind him wasn’t pitch black because of the light, but the spiral ramp leading from the basement to the first floor was still dim and hard to see clearly.

He closed his eyes,

Took a deep breath,

Karen hoped to catch the sweet scent of hot milk,

But unfortunately, he didn’t have a dog’s nose.

Thinking of the dog,

Karen looked down for a moment,

The golden retriever, which had been so enthusiastic earlier when he let it in, hadn’t followed him down to the basement;

Truly a dog unworthy of deep affection.

He reached out,

Gripped the doorknob;

In an instant,

It was as if the “channel” had suddenly switched—a sense of disorientation washed over him, not strong, but clearly perceptible;

Immediately after,

The “crying” in the studio abruptly stopped.

Karen looked back again; the lightbulb in the corridor overhead was still shining normally.

“Click...”

He turned the handle,

Pulled open the door,

Then quickly reached for the switch by the door and pressed it immediately;

“Click...”

The light in the studio came on.

Light,

Abundant light,

Can bring great psychological comfort.

On two stretchers in the studio lay Jeffrey and Mr. Mossang.

Jeffrey’s face was covered in makeup, “radiant.”

You could tell it was heavy; his hair was parted in the middle and slicked with gel, making him look... especially spirited. He probably never looked this energetic when he was alive.