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The Ghost
墨書 Inktalez
Zhang Mingda, the General Manager of Mingda Company, stood like a statue in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows on the top floor of an 18-story building in Bangkok, a cigarette pinched between his fingers.
The cigarette had burned down to the filter, glowing embers flickering, yet he remained oblivious, not even considering lifting it to take a drag.
At that moment, an extremely bizarre and perplexing situation loomed over him like a dark cloud.
On the desk behind him lay the resignation letter of the eighth security guard.
Though labeled a report, it was merely a formality; the guard who submitted it had already fled in terror, too frightened to even collect his last two weeks' wages.
The reason for their collective fright was surprisingly consistent: the building was haunted.
Everything in this world has two sides, and Zhang Mingda, who did not believe in gods, naturally scoffed at the idea of ghosts. However, having seen eight strong men resign in just one month left him utterly bewildered.
His company, Mingda Company, had spent ten years establishing itself in China before finally opening a branch in Thailand. As the General Manager, Zhang Mingda had personally led the branch manager, Su Xiaoshuang, to explore the market. He had planned to return home once the company was on solid ground, but little did he expect to encounter such troublesome issues just a month after moving into this building.
Thailand is famously known as the "Land of a Thousand Buddhas," and it is also a country where belief in ghosts is widespread among its people.
Every night, when Zhang Mingda turned on the television, he could see various terrifying ghosts depicted in Thai dramas.
While Zhang Mingda could manage basic communication in Thai, business dealings primarily relied on branch manager Su Xiaoshuang.
As a Thai-born Chinese, Su Xiaoshuang was fluent in both Chinese and Thai. Like Zhang Mingda, she too dismissed the notion of spirits.
Holding his cigarette, Zhang Mingda gazed out at what was supposed to be an international metropolis. The air quality in Bangkok was appalling, with a thick layer of pollution shrouding the city year-round.
The streets were bustling with traffic, congested and chaotic, while the sidewalks were both dirty and narrow.
At the corner of the street, Golden Buddha stood quietly. Passersby instinctively clasped their hands together in prayer as they walked by, offering their sincere wishes.
As night fell, neon lights flickered to life, and a row of small stalls suddenly appeared along the narrow street, adorned with bright bulbs selling various trinkets. In the dimmer corners, several heavily made-up women in short outfits lingered, their figures barely visible.
Alongside Mingda Company in the same building were several other companies. Zhang Mingda had never interacted with the managers of those firms before. Now, faced with such an unusual situation, he felt compelled to make a phone call to inquire further.
He casually extinguished his cigarette and opened his business card holder, locating the contact number of a boss from a Computer Company whom he had met in the elevator. He dialed the number, thinking that someone involved in computers, dealing with high technology daily, might not be easily swayed by superstitions.
The call connected quickly. After understanding Zhang Mingda's intent, the Computer Boss fell silent for a long moment before lowering his voice and slowly saying, "Mr. Zhang, if you have time, please come to our company. It might be of help to you."
Zhang Mingda agreed and headed over.
However, as soon as he stepped into the Computer Company, he thought he had mistakenly entered a temple.
Every desk in the office displayed a yellow paper talisman, and each employee wore an amulet around their necks. Inside the glass boxes of these amulets were statues of Thai Monks that each person revered.
The glass boxes varied in size; some were no larger than a thumb, while others were bigger than a teacup coaster.
Zhang Mingda was astonished to see that several individuals wore not just one necklace but multiple strands—four or five tightly packed together—indicating that the fear of "ghosts" had deeply penetrated their bones.
"This is simply unbelievable!" Zhang Mingda exclaimed as he gazed at the necklaces.
"To be honest, we are planning to find a new place to move to, but we haven't been able to find one with suitable rent," the Computer Boss said with a helpless expression and a wry smile.
One of the reasons Zhang Mingda chose to move into this building was the affordable rent.
Located in the heart of Bangkok, the building boasts convenient transportation and a thriving network, yet the rent is only half that of surrounding properties.
Could it be that such low rent is truly due to haunting?
Seeing the confusion on Zhang Mingda's face, the Computer Boss led him to a secluded spot in the corridor, glancing around cautiously before lowering his voice to ask, "So, you’ve seen the Dirty Thing?"
People seem to have an innate fear of ghosts, as if merely mentioning the word "ghost" would bring misfortune. Thus, they use "Dirty Thing" as a substitute.
Zhang Mingda had heard a bit about the "Dirty Thing"; his secretary had hinted at it mysteriously before, but he hadn’t paid much attention.
"Have you seen it?" Zhang Mingda retorted.
Just as the Computer Boss was about to speak, a look of increasing panic suddenly spread across his face. His eyes were fixed on the door behind Zhang Mingda, mouth agape as if he had seen something truly terrifying.
That door led to the Fire Escape, which was usually kept shut. However, at that moment, a creaking sound emerged from behind Zhang Mingda—a dry, low noise that seemed like whispers from hell.
Upon hearing it, Zhang Mingda felt a chill run down his spine as a cold breeze rushed into his neck, making his hair stand on end.
He turned abruptly and saw that the corridor door was wide open.
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