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墨書 Inktalez
When we arrived at the complex, the bloodstains in the elevator had already been cleaned up.
As a side note, in our country, crime scene clean-up is typically handled by cleaners or the deceased's family members, often in coordination with police officers from the local precinct. This includes various types of scenes such as crime scenes, suicide scenes, and accident scenes. It can be quite terrifying or nauseating for family members or cleaners to take on such tasks, especially in cases of gruesome murders where bodies have been reduced to mere pulp. It's something that ordinary people find hard to accept.
In contrast, some countries have come up with a better solution by establishing specialized crime scene cleaning companies that handle the aftermath of murders, suicides, and accidental deaths. These cleaners must undergo a series of training sessions before they can start working. The pay is quite high, but the risks are significant, such as the possibility of infectious diseases from the deceased. Clean-up often takes a long time because blood is not easy to remove.
The Detective Captain informed me that here, crime scene clean-up is done by professionals hired by the property management.
We stepped into the elevator where the incident had occurred, while the other officers took a different one. I glanced around; the traces in the elevator had been thoroughly cleaned. If someone were unaware of the murder that had taken place here, they would never guess that this space had once been soaked in blood. Just from the elevator's specifications and decor, it was clear that this complex was middle to upper class; its residents were unlikely to be from working-class backgrounds.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed some younger officers still felt uneasy about this elevator; their fear was palpable. According to property staff, since the incident, many residents had been too scared to return home, and quite a few were looking to sell their apartments—especially those living in this building—almost half of them had fled.
One property manager accompanying us said, "Recently, I don't know who started it, but rumors are spreading that during construction, they buried a live person in the concrete. They say it's a vengeful spirit coming to claim lives. Others claim this place has bad feng shui and is a den of filth! My goodness, I don't know where these people get their ideas... How will anyone dare to buy an apartment here now?"
I shook my head. At that moment, the elevator doors opened on the Eighteenth Floor.
Previously, when we watched the video footage, the elevator doors had opened on this floor as well. However, due to blood obscuring the camera lens, we couldn't see anything for about a minute. All we knew was that the doors opened on the Eighteenth Floor, but what transpired during that brief minute remained a mystery.
We considered several possibilities: First, it could have been Sun Bikun—her head already severed—who pressed the button for the Eighteenth Floor before she collapsed. Second, someone outside might have pressed either the up or down button to call for the elevator. Third, perhaps a ghost pressed the button for the Eighteenth Floor.
We analyzed each scenario. Sun Bikun had already lost her head and fell backward; thus, it was nearly impossible for a corpse to press the button for the Eighteenth Floor. If someone on that floor wanted to use the elevator and saw what happened inside, why didn't they call for help? Could it really be a ghost at work?
Since the elevator was very close to residents' homes and only cameras were installed outside on the stairs—while blood blocked any view from inside—the purpose of our visit was to determine exactly what happened on the Eighteenth Floor and where that missing handbag was now.
In this type of complex structure, each floor has three apartments. I looked at the three closed doors and asked, "Are there still residents on the Eighteenth Floor?"
The property manager pulled out management records and said while looking through them, "Only one apartment is currently occupied; one hasn't been sold yet and another has been purchased but isn't being lived in. Only one is normally inhabited; however, I can't tell if they're home right now." He then went up to knock on one door but received no response after several attempts. The manager remarked, "At this hour, they might be at work."
I frowned and said firmly, "Call them. No matter what they're doing now isn't our concern."
Seeing my serious expression, the manager quickly nodded and took out his phone to dial the number listed in his records. After a long wait with no answer, he looked at me helplessly and raised his hand holding his phone as if to say it wasn't his fault.
I took his phone and dialed again; still no one answered.
"See? This..." he began to say.
"Quiet!" I interrupted the administrator, pressing my ear against the door of the resident's apartment. The sound was faint, barely audible through two doors, but it was clear that it was coming from inside. I hung up my phone and said to the administrator, "Open the door."
"Is that really a good idea..." the administrator hesitated. "We can't do this without the homeowner's consent."
I nodded and replied, "What happened is none of your business."
The administrator finally nodded, pulling out a spare key that seemed to have been prepared in advance. We opened the door, removed our shoes, and put on gloves and shoe covers before stepping inside. The ringing of a phone grew louder, coming from the sofa in the living room. I frowned and said to the Detective Captain, "Call his company immediately and check if he went to work today."
As I spoke, I slowly approached the sofa, carefully picking up his phone. I noticed there were many missed calls on it. The remote control lay carelessly tossed in another corner of the sofa, and the television was in standby mode, not completely turned off. On the tea table, there was unfinished tea and half-eaten snacks.
What surprised me even more was a pile of clothes strewn across the floor, layered one over another. A shirt on top, followed by a tank top, then shorts, and finally underwear underneath. I couldn't help but frown; this was quite telling.
At that moment, the Detective Captain leaned closer and said to me, "I just called; he didn't go to work today. The company tried calling him multiple times but no one answered."
"It seems ghosts really don't wear clothes," I said while pressing my fingers against my temples as I looked at the clothes.
My words startled everyone; they quickly reacted as the Detective Captain asked, "Are you saying this person was also attacked by an unknown force?"
I nodded, closed my eyes, and continued, "In the elevator, Victim Sun Bikun's Handbag went missing; everyone knows that. But whether we check the elevator surveillance or the stairs' footage, we found no trace of this Handbag. Given the situation here, we might be able to draw a conclusion."
As I envisioned what might have happened in my mind, I said, "That unknown force seems capable of moving freely through space while the Handbag cannot. So it must have opened the elevator door and knocked on this resident's door because only this apartment had someone inside. When the resident opened the door, the Handbag flew in. The resident was startled and stumbled back."
"And then he was attacked by that mysterious force!" I opened my eyes and declared. "Just like we saw with Sun Bikun's body disappearing earlier, this resident vanished as well."
"Look," I pointed at the sofa. "It must have been around eight fifteen in the evening when the resident was here eating while watching TV; that's why his phone and remote are at a distance from each other. You can see that only a little tea has been drunk from the cup and that snack isn't finished either. Plus, the TV wasn't turned off; it was still on standby."
I took a few steps forward and added, "Especially these clothes—who would be bored enough to lay them out one over another on the floor? If I'm not mistaken, that window must have been open."
In high-rise buildings for safety reasons, windows are generally casement windows that open at an angle of about fifteen to thirty degrees. It would be difficult for even a child to fall out of such a small opening; however, if it were just big enough for a Handbag, then that space would suffice for entry or exit.
As I spoke, I reached the window and pulled aside the closed curtain. Sure enough, just as I expected—the living room window was open. It seemed that Handbag had exited through this way. The scene appeared to confirm my suspicions, yet I couldn't feel any joy about it.
Given this situation, could it really be that ghosts were at play?
I simply cannot understand how a living person could vanish without a trace if it were done by human hands.
Downstairs, a group of people dressed in robes had arrived at some point. They surrounded a few elderly individuals who were asking questions, but the distance was too great to hear anything beyond the sound of drums and gongs. Others also heard the noise and began to look out through the floor-to-ceiling windows on either side.
The property manager said, "Everyone says this place is haunted. A few elderly folks told us that as long as we invite a master to perform a ritual, everything will be fine. We don’t believe in these things, but we have no choice; as long as one resident believes, we have to show our support."
"You say that, but I can't help but believe now. A living person just disappeared!" The property manager looked at us with a tearful expression and continued, "All that's left are these clothes. How can anyone not believe? Officer, you must catch the culprit; I..."
I ignored his words and watched as the master below began the ritual. A Dao Platform had already been set up. Several people were lighting firecrackers while the Daoist held a Peach Wood Sword and a Bagua Plate, chanting incantations as he ignited talismans with fire drawn from thin air...
Everyone quietly observed this scene, unsure whether to feel awkward or what to say. I remarked, "Let him conduct his ritual; we’ll focus on our investigation. What we need to determine is the identity of the deceased, Sun Bikun, and what she did for a living. Why did this mysterious force take her handbag? Does that handbag hold any undisclosed secrets?"
Everyone nodded in agreement.
I took one last look at the Daoist downstairs and said, "Let's go check out Sun Bikun's house!"
A young man went hunting in the mountains with his grandfather and unexpectedly came across Mouse Burning Incense and a statue made from human corpses at the Wild Cat Worships at the Temple. When he returned home late at night, his biological mother was chasing him with "people," because of his grandfather's illicit actions toward her!
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