The Odd Resident

—— Deerhapsody

I live on the most vibrant street in the bustling city and enjoy spending my day watching the traffic come and go.

I know, like a voyeur.

Observation makes me happy.

Especially since I discovered a strange room across the building recently.

I have glimpsed many different girls in that room behind thick curtains. It seems that there is a handsome playboy living there, who regularly makes new acquaintances.

It's a pity I can't see what he looks like.

Imagining his handsome appearance, I turned on my computer.

I am a writer, and observation gives me infinite inspiration.

A playboy in my novel wanders through the romantic story with different beautiful girls, but the romance turns to horror when a series of disappearances hits the city.

The playboy uses his handsome appearance to deceive girls and kills them after sex.

I have an important role in this story.

I’m a reporter during the day to collect clues everywhere, and a detective at night to uncover the truth based on the clues.

However, the playboy’s room had been quiet for a few days, and my inspirations were gone, a writer’s block.

A reporter came to my apartment.

She knocked on my door kindly: "Are you the online writer Ms. Deerhapsody? I saw your novels online and liked them very much. May I have an interview with you?”

I frowned.

It's not a good time to talk to a stranger.

I lowered my voice, tried to disguise myself as a boy with a bad temper: "I’m not the person you are looking for. I don't know any deer or rhapsody.”

Unexpectedly, she still persevered: "It took me a lot of effort to find your address. Please give me an opportunity to interview you. I promise I will make you and your novel much more popular.”

"I said I’m not that person." I pretended to be angry, "If you don't leave, I will call the police.”

She hesitated for a moment but ultimately chose to leave.

I loosened up.

The next afternoon, a new missing person was broadcast on television.

The woman I’d just seen through the door yesterday was an undercover police officer disguised as a reporter.

The inspirations ran wild, so I sat down and began to type.

A whole night passed.

I stretched out and habitually pulled my curtains open.

To my surprise, the curtain on the opposite side is open as well.

There was only one woman inside, with her back to me, but judging by her elegant figure, she must be a beauty.

Where is the playboy?

Before the woman turned around, I quickly hid behind the curtains.

I was really scared awake now.

My computer suddenly pushed a news update: several of the missing women’s remains had been found. The article described their condition as “extremely horrifying”.

Some photos of the victims were released.

I'm sure at least one of the women had appeared in that room.

I should call the police, but what do I say?

Will the police believe me?

It’s not just to describe that the deceased person had appeared in that room. I still need to explain what I saw and why I saw that.

I think I saw nothing.

Then I suddenly thought of someone.

A friend.

Her name is Lynna, and she is very bold.

She is the perfect person to uncover what happened in that room.

As expected, Lynna was very excited, volunteering without hesitation to see what the “playboy” looked like and to find out what happened.

It became the last call between us.

She also disappeared.

I slowly pulled the curtain aside, peeking with only a single eye as I stared at the room across the building.

The beautiful woman has a rabbit mask on her face. I’m not sure if she could see me.

Her fingers were moving upward in small taps, like she was counting silently.

Then her finger pointed at me.

She was counting floors.

I shut the curtain abruptly and grabbed some valuables, my hands moving faster than my thoughts.

I need to hide and stay away for a couple of days.

Right as I touched the door, I heard the elevator beep — just once, too clean, too precise.

No time to think, by instinct, I ran for the stairs, hurtling, then collided with someone in the dark.

The rabbit mask was inches from my face. I screamed.

She clamped a hand over my mouth.

In the struggle, the rabbit mask came off in my hand, and the face behind it was unmistakably familiar.

A few minutes later, I returned home with Lynna and was pushed to take a shower.

"You scared me."

I grumbled, snatching a pillow and throwing it at her. “Don’t you know scaring someone like that could kill them?”

When I came out of the bathroom, Lynna was sitting at the computer.

Her eyes were fixed on the details of the disappearance case.

"Did you know?" Lynna's voice was particularly low, "I have done a lot of work, including law enforcement and hacking. Breaking into the police system … it isn’t difficult for me.”

"Why have I never heard you mention that before?" I leaned in, unable to hold back my curiosity.

This case had been haunting me for a while.

Lynna took a deep breath towards me: "You smell much better after the shower.”

Not sure if it was just my imagination, but Lynna looks different today.

The case pulled my attention back almost immediately.

There were more victims than the police had made public, and the causes of death were far more horrifying than the public reports — they had been skinned alive, leaving scenes that could only be described as a living hellscape.

Among the unpublished files, I even saw some faces I recognized.

"What did you see there? Don’t tell me you met the ‘playboy’ and fell in love with him.”

I forced a laugh, trying to sound casual.

Fear made my body tremble, so I clung to light, even nonsensical topics, anything to keep myself from falling apart.

Why was Lynna in the stairway?

Lynna didn't answer me directly.

Her laughter as a silver bell slid through my body like an ice pick.

“Did you know? To avoid being caught, I always change places regularly. But you were just so cute… I couldn’t help but linger a little longer.”

she said softly,

“You wouldn’t let me in. What else could I do? Your friend practically delivered herself to me.”

My blood seemed to freeze.

I turned back, trembling, and wanted to ask Lynna about this joke, but suddenly realized she was holding a knife in her hand.

Something beneath her skin was shifting, moving in a way no human body ever should.

“It’ll be quick,”

she whispered,

“Don’t be so scared. It won’t hurt at all.”