In the pitch-black bathroom, Chen Ge sat alone in the bathtub, breathing deeply to cycle air through his lungs. The black phone showed 3:42 am. With only one shot at this, he had to be precise.
The room was silent, no sounds from the corridor. The mirror monster seemed absent.
Time crept forward. Chen Ge placed his electronic watch beside the tub for accuracy. At 3:43, he sharpened his focus, opened his mouth, and inhaled slowly.
The candlelight flickered as he eased into the water, eyes locked on the watch. He'd never been so focused. When the digits hit 3:44, he submerged without hesitation.
Icy water engulfed him. Submerging in a tub at night was an eerie experience, to say the least.
The cold numbed his senses, plunging him into darkness, as if sinking into an abyss. Silence reigned, broken only by his heartbeat pounding in his ears. The frigid water stretched every nerve taut.
Lying in the tub, Chen Ge cleared his mind, focusing on his heartbeat and starting the countdown.
Sixty seconds. Just hold on for sixty seconds.
It was his first time doing this. The water's surface blended with the darkness, and the faltering candlelight seemed to drift away, like he was sinking into an ocean.
One, two…
After ten seconds, time slowed to a crawl. The water's murmur threatened to drown his heartbeat. Darkness consumed his vision. Repeating his parents' names in his mind, Chen Ge gripped the cleavers, letting the water carry his body.
Oxygen dwindled, and discomfort set in, like a weight pressing on him.
Fifteen, sixteen…
Each heartbeat burned more oxygen, slowing time further. Every second dragged like an eternity. The pressure grew, as if hands were tightening around his neck.
Opening his eyes underwater, Chen Ge saw nothing but blackness, as if trapped in another realm. A few seconds later, his face paled dramatically.
How long's it been? Almost done, right?
A sudden ripple broke the surface, and a strange noise pierced the silence, coming from the corridor. Somehow, Chen Ge heard it clearly—perhaps it was meant to break his focus.
Footsteps? Someone's in the corridor?
His slowing heartbeat raced, his body tensing. It's probably the mirror monster. The dolls better hold it off for thirty more seconds!
His mind fogged, a buzzing filled his ears. The corridor footsteps worsened his state. Struggling to focus, he repeated his parents' names and counted his heartbeats.
Twenty-eight, twenty-nine…
Chen Ge couldn't tell if the water warped the sound, but the footsteps in the corridor seemed to quicken, as if something was rushing to reach the bathroom.
Seconds later, a crushing weight pressed on his chest. Blood vessels bulged on his neck, his limbs numbed with cold. His mind slowed, only sheer willpower keeping him submerged.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The bathroom door rattled violently. Chen Ge's heart clenched—the thing outside was losing patience!
After a few more slams, the assault stopped. Perhaps the doll propped against the door had intervened again. Silence returned, as normal as it could be in such a bizarre situation. Normally, Chen Ge could hold his breath for a minute, but the footsteps and pounding had shattered his calm, accelerating oxygen depletion.
He was at his limit. The last trace of air in his lungs was gone. Each second was agony.
Thirty-nine, forty…
By forty, his mind began to shut down, unable to sustain the countdown. If his focus slipped, he'd drown. Asphyxiation overwhelmed his thoughts, leaving only childhood memories of his parents.
A weak pulse throbbed in his neck, his grip on the cleavers loosening. Drifting toward death, Chen Ge finally grasped the mission's words:
"It can allow you to bypass the line between the living and the dead, giving you the opportunity to see those who have unfortunately passed away."
It meant that, at the cusp of night and day, those near death could glimpse the other side.
Staring at the water's surface, his dilated pupils saw only darkness—silent, despairing darkness. No one appeared.
The crushing sensation in his lungs was indescribable.
No, any longer and I'll die in this tub.
He'd likely passed thirty seconds, and his parents hadn't appeared. Relief mixed with surrender—they were alive. He'd given up hope of seeing them.
His arms brushed the tub's cold bottom. With his last shred of clarity, Chen Ge prepared to surface. But something was wrong.
A force pressed on his head, blocking him from rising. His pupils contracted as he looked up—nothing was there!
The dolls guarded the door and tub; the mirror monster shouldn't have entered. So what was this?
Veins bulged on his neck, his face deathly pale. In a final surge, Chen Ge gripped a cleaver and swung it above his head.
Oxygen deprivation had pushed his body and mind to the brink, like a taut string ready to snap.
The cleaver sliced through the water, splashing everywhere. He felt it hit something, followed by a sharp snap near his ear. The force on his head vanished.
Unimpeded, Chen Ge shot up, breaking the surface, gasping for air.