I held my breath and pressed myself flat against the inner wall of the hall.
The night wind slipped through the half-opened lattice window, carrying the faint sting of burnt incense mixed with the sour damp of old timber. It curled through the room like a ghost that refused to disperse. My nose prickled; my eyes watered—but I didn’t dare cough.
The hall was sparsely furnished: an old table, a row of bamboo chairs, and a half-worn standing cabinet in the corner, its door left slightly ajar.
While the shadow in the courtyard shifted for the briefest mont, I seized the opening—silent steps, a breath held tight—and slipped into the cabinet’s darker side, crouching low against the wall.
A thin layer of dust coated the floor. My boot brushed against it and made the faintest sound.
My heart slamd once—hard.
Too quiet.
This place was too quiet. Quiet enough that it felt like even my heartbeat echoed off the walls.
I didn’t dare move again.
I was debating whether to make the system run another scan of the courtyard when—
“Creak.”
Soone pushed open the main door.
Heavy footsteps entered—weighty, unapologetic, and carrying the sa oppressive air as a butcher walking into the slaughterhouse. A greasy, iron-tinged sll followed him inside.
I peeked out—just enough to see.
A huge man stepped in. Broad as a mountain, bare-ard, with a grimy rag thrown over one shoulder. Stubble shadowed his square jaw, and his hair was tied back in a crude, lopsided knot.
He opened his mouth, and I nearly fainted on the spot.
“Wife, is dinner ready yet? I’m starving today!”
…
Wife?
My mind exploded like soone had dropped a stone into my skull.
The woman hiding behind the courtyard door—
She jolted, clearly startled nearly out of her soul, but quickly collected herself. She stepped out lightly and replied in a soft, composed tone:
“Please wait, husband. I’ll put these clothes away and check on the kitchen. The soup should still be simring.”
“Heheh, thanks, wife.” The brute scratched his head, grinning foolishly. “You work so hard.”
I stared, absolutely splitting apart inside.
Who the hell was this man?!
Where did this “husband” co from?!
He looked like a pig butcher—no, worse, the type who killed things with his bare hands.
Or… could he be the pig monster? But according to Lian, the pig monster was female…
Did it change form? Or switch genders?
Was the demon world really this competitive now?!
The more I thought, the worse it got.
Finally, I hissed inside my mind:
“System, scan him. Quick. Is he a demon? I swear he’s not human.”
For once, the system was dead silent.
“…System?”
No response.
A chill ran down my spine.
“You’re not pretending to be dead again, are you? Every ti sothing goes wrong, you’re the first to abandon ship! Seriously—was my previous host driven insane by you?”
After a long pause, the familiar infuriating voice finally drifted out, sluggish as if waking from a nap:
【Attempting to synchronize environnt data… Interference too high. No conclusive result available.】
I rolled my eyes so hard they almost fell out.
“I knew it. At critical monts you’re about as useful as wet rice paper. At this point I’m starting to think I deserved a half-finished system.”
The system paused—actually paused—as if considering my words.
【This system is undergoing self-optimization. Host should maintain emotional stability to prevent performance degradation.】
“…”
Was this really sothing a system should say?
No ti to argue.
The big man suddenly halted mid-step.
I froze instantly.
Then the system—because it apparently resurrected just to annoy —offered a lukewarm update:
【Target male life signs normal… though body temperature is low. Approaching minimum threshold.】
“…Approaching minimum? Are you telling he’s a walking corpse?”
The system hesitated—just slightly.
【More like… a camoufleur.】
“Camoufleur?”
I tensed.
“What does that—”
【Recomndation: Do not make sudden movents. Continue observation.】
“You—! Aren’t you supposed to be my ultimate support? Why do you sound like you’re arranging my funeral?”
No answer. The system had clearly gone back to playing dead.
The brute chuckled just then, lifted a teacup, and blew across it.
Every muscle in his back was relaxed…
Except I could feel it—his gaze had never left the shadow where I was hiding.
…
So he knew.
He knew I was here from the start.
My heart dropped straight through the floor.
The woman entered the kitchen, moving with practiced ease, but I noticed her hands trembling when she folded the laundry. Her steps faltered, just barely.
She was anxious.
Not because she feared he would find .
But because she feared he would find too soon.
I pressed myself against the cabinet, sweat gathering at my palms.
Before I could even plan an escape, the brute abruptly clicked his tongue.
“Huh. Why isn’t this tea hot anymore?”
His wrist twisted—
And with all the force of a man flipping a table, he flung the tea straight toward the corner where I hid.
Hot liquid smashed onto my forehead.
“GAH—! Are you insane?!”
I burst out of hiding, flailing my sleeves, blinking through the sting.
The brute grinned—wide, satisfied, smug.
He twirled the empty cup once and set it neatly back onto the table with a precise little tap.
“Knew you were there, guest.”
I stared at him.
Stared at that smile.
So the whole “wife cooking dinner” thing…
was an act?
And I was the entertainnt dish?!
I forced an awkward grin and edged away from the cabinet.
“So, uh… if I said I was just passing through, would you believe ?”
The brute chuckled, narrowed his eyes, and cupped his fists with mock courtesy.
“Please forgive the humble state of my ho. Since you’ve co, guest, why not stay a few days?”
Polite words.
But he looked at the way butchers looked at pigs—calculating how many bowls of stew they could make from one carcass.
I thought about running, but—
A sudden gust hit my ear, icy as a dead man’s breath.
My vision darkened.
When I ca to, I was lying in a small, unfamiliar room.
A dim yellow lamp glowed in the corner.
The furnishings were unexpectedly refined—a sandalwood desk with ancient scrolls, a warm pot on a small table, a pot of unopened ink-black plum blossoms. A soft embroidered curtain hung beside the bed.
But the door—
The door was tightly shut.
There was no window.
Not even a slit of light.
A shiver crawled up my spine.
I sat up and shouted at the door, “Hello? Anyone? I—I get bloated when confined, okay? Soone open up!”
No reply.
I drew breath to yell again when—
A sound brushed my ear.
Low.
Rough.
Too close.
Aheavy breath.
Right beside .
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