1
It was eleven at night. When I saw that comment, a chill ran down my spine.
Before I could say anything, the other viewers had already started cursing her out.
[What’s that supposed to mean? Are you cursing someone?]
[Talking about a coffin room in the middle of the night? You’re scaring the hell out of us.]
[This person seems shady. Nguyễn Nguyễn, kick this ID out. Don’t let her dirty up your livestream.]
While I sat there stunned, she posted a second comment.
[No windows—that’s the worst feng shui. Vital energy can’t get in, and death energy can’t get out. Over time, no one inside can survive.]
The other viewers started cursing her even more fiercely.
[Is this person crazy?]
[Nguyễn Nguyễn, hurry up and kick her out!]
My name is Nguyễn Nguyễn. I’m an amateur beauty blogger, and most of the people in my livestream are fans who tune in at night to watch me share my bedtime skincare routine, not to hear ghost stories.
I wanted to kick this weirdo out, too, but for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
I glanced up at the water-stained ceiling, and the unease in my heart grew stronger and stronger.
Our dorm had been converted from a storage room. It really was the only room in the entire building without a window.
There were four of us living here. At first, none of us was very happy about it, but over the past few years the school had expanded enrollment, and there weren’t enough dorm rooms, so we had no choice but to put up with it.
I looked at the ID. Her name was “Tiểu Nhiên,” and she wasn’t one of my regular fans.
As the comments grew more hostile, I spoke up. “Tiểu Nhiên, you can’t keep making vague comments like that. If you do, I’ll have to kick you out.”
As soon as I finished speaking, Tiểu Nhiên posted another comment.
[The wooden boards on a coffin lid are the weakest part. After years of decay, rain seeps through them. If you’re not on the top floor, why is it your ceiling that leaks whenever it rains?]
I was stunned.
Although I often livestreamed from my dorm, I’d never told my fans what floor we were on.
Besides, even though it was raining outside, our room had no windows, so the viewers couldn’t see the rain in the livestream.
As soon as that comment appeared, the other viewers went quiet for a moment.
Then some of them started to believe her.
[Shit, now I’m getting scared.]
[What she’s saying actually makes sense…]
But someone quickly argued back.
[Nguyễn Nguyễn’s IP location has been somewhere rainy lately. Tiểu Nhiên must be guessing.]
[Who knows what she’s up to, showing up in the middle of the night like this? Nguyễn Nguyễn, kick her out already.]
I looked at Tiểu Nhiên’s ID, and the chill down my spine grew heavier.
She wasn’t wrong.
Our ceiling only leaked when it rained.
But we definitely weren’t on the top floor. I’d asked my roommates, too. None of their rooms had this problem, whether they were on our floor or another one.
So I spoke softly. “You said our dorm is a coffin room. What does that mean?”
A few seconds later, my heart suddenly began to pound.
Perhaps to make her comments stand out from the others, Tiểu Nhiên had changed her text color to red. On the screen, it looked as bright as blood.
[A girls’ dorm made into a coffin room is meant to serve as a burial offering.]
[There are four people in your dorm. One of them is dead—the tomb owner. The other three are sacrifices.]
2
Those words made my scalp prickle.
I turned and silently looked at my roommates.
We’d been assigned dorm rooms at random, and we were all in different majors.
At that moment, Tần Tiếu, an English major, sat at the desk with headphones on, watching short videos and eating instant noodles for a late-night snack. Every so often, she burst out laughing.
Mạnh Lệ Nhi, the chemistry department’s beauty, was elegantly painting her nails.
Ngô Lam, the class monitor in the clinical medicine department, was still studying outside and hadn’t come back yet.
They all looked like ordinary college girls, and we usually got along well.
Could one of them… be the tomb owner?
Maybe my expression looked too awful, because Tiểu Nhiên quickly posted another comment.
[No matter how close you are to your roommates, you have to accept one truth—one of them is dead. Her resentful ghost is trying to drag all three of you down with her.]
[The process takes a hundred days. On the hundredth day, the coffin can be sealed in the tomb, and the ritual will be complete.]
I glanced at the calendar on the little table, my throat going dry.
The comments exploded.
[Wait, school started on September 1, so doesn’t that make tomorrow the hundredth day?]
[That’s terrifying. I just checked, and thank goodness our dorm has windows. Sob.]
Amid the flood of comments, Tiểu Nhiên’s blood-red one appeared again.
[Streamer, if your school really did start on September 1, then tonight is your last chance.]
[If you don’t find the ghost tonight, the three of you who are still alive will die tomorrow.]
My hands began to tremble.
In the comments, a loyal fan came to my defense.
[Tiểu Nhiên, are you trying to take revenge on society by telling ghost stories in the middle of the night?]
[Longtime Nguyễn Nguyễn fans know she’s a total coward. She won’t even watch horror movies!]
[Nguyễn Nguyễn, want to go outside and get some air? If your dorm has no windows, then it really must be stuffy in there. You look so pale.]
[Exactly, Nguyễn Nguyễn, go for a walk! Tiểu Nhiên said none of you can leave. If you just go downstairs and walk around, wouldn’t that prove she’s talking nonsense?]
I picked up my phone and stood.
That was right. If I went downstairs and showed everyone on the livestream that I’d left, her story would fall apart on its own.
I made up my mind, grabbed my phone, and headed out while livestreaming.
But just as I walked past the door,
a hand suddenly reached out from behind me and grabbed my wrist.
The hand was ice-cold.
I was so terrified I nearly screamed. I spun around and found myself face-to-face with a pair of eyes hidden behind thick glasses.
It was Tần Tiếu.
She’d been engrossed in watching short videos, but when I walked past, she suddenly grabbed me.
“Nguyễn Nguyễn, it’s so late.”
Tần Tiếu stared at me. “Where are you going?”
The fluorescent lights overhead reflected off her glasses, making it impossible for me to see Tần Tiếu’s eyes.
Maybe it was just my imagination, but suddenly Tần Tiếu seemed stranger than usual.
My throat felt parched. I struggled to swallow before managing to speak:
“I’m going out for a walk.”
Tần Tiếu frowned. “It’s pouring.”
Was she not going to let me leave?
Could Tần Tiếu… be the tomb owner?
As soon as the thought occurred to me, I suddenly realized my mind seemed to have gone along with Tiểu Nhiên’s.
But just as I was thinking about how to get away from Tần Tiếu, she let go of my hand on her own.
She turned, picked up an umbrella, and handed it to me. “Take this, and pick up Lam while you’re at it.”
I took the umbrella and hurried out of the dorm room.
I’d thought Tần Tiếu wouldn’t let me leave, but she didn’t stop me.
Could it be…?
My heart pounded as a thought flashed through my mind.
—It was because Ngô Lam hadn’t come back yet.
That’s right! According to Tiểu Nhiên, the tomb owner needed three sacrifices. Not one could be missing.
Ngô Lam still wasn’t back, and Tần Tiếu didn’t know I’d noticed anything was wrong. She thought I’d be back soon after going out, so she’d asked me to bring Ngô Lam back with me.
At that thought, I pulled another phone from the pocket of my pajamas. I had two phones, one for livestreaming and one for everyday use. I hurriedly took out the one I used for everyday life and messaged Ngô Lam.
“Lam, don’t come back yet!”
When she didn’t reply, I called Ngô Lam, but she didn’t answer that either.
Maybe she was on her way.
Never mind. I’d go downstairs first. Maybe I could intercept her on her way back from the study room.
While trying to reach Ngô Lam, I walked down a long hallway to the elevator lobby.
But when I stepped into the elevator lobby, I suddenly realized—
the screens on both elevators were completely dark.
The elevators were out of service.
A chill swept through me, and my unease grew more intense.
I suddenly realized that everything around me was terribly wrong.
On the way to the elevator lobby, I’d walked down a long hallway.
Even though it was nearly midnight, the hallway was usually bustling at this hour.
People would be washing their faces, grabbing late-night snacks, rolling out yoga mats, memorizing vocabulary, or discussing group assignments. There were people everywhere.
But the long hallway I’d just walked through had been completely empty.
Every dorm room door was shut tight. A deathly pall hung over everything in the dim light.
My legs began to tremble.
Meanwhile, the comments were pouring in on my livestream phone, all urging me to hurry downstairs.
But strangely, Tiểu Nhiên, who’d been typing comments nonstop just moments ago, had stopped appearing.
I swallowed and looked toward the emergency stairwell door beside the elevator lobby.
Beyond the door was the stairwell. We were on the third floor, and it would probably take only a minute to run down.
Once I got out of the dorm, everything would be fine.
I made up my mind, dashed into the stairwell, and ran down.
There was only one thought in my mind— I had to get out of this dorm, as far away as possible.
The stairwell was just like the hallway: completely empty.
I ran down frantically, quickly descending two floors. Maybe because I was so panicked, I missed a step on the last flight and tumbled forward.
My phone slipped from my hand. I scrambled to my feet and picked it up.
Thankfully, the livestream hadn’t cut out.
“Okay, I’ve made it to the first floor.”
I said loudly into the phone, as if trying to reassure myself.
But the screen had fallen silent.
It was as if every comment had suddenly stopped.
A few seconds later, a handful of comments appeared.
They all said the exact same thing.
[Nguyễn Nguyễn, turn around and look..]
My scalp suddenly prickled.
A fierce sense of dread surged through me, and I finally realized—
I’d gone down two floors, but this wasn’t the first floor.
I turned to look behind me, and goose bumps immediately covered my body.
The number behind me still glowed brightly: 3.
I was still on the third floor.