Soul Hunting

I opened my eyes again.

The air in the room was as stagnant as solidified glue. The morning light seeping through the slits of the blinds cast several dazzling beams in the dust. The furniture in a modern and simple style outlined vague shadows in the dimness—the white IKEA wardrobe, the dark brown desk, the simple wall clock on the wall—these ordinary furnishings now looked like a distorted painting.

Anger.

Pure, uncontrollable anger.

It welled up from the depths of my chest, burning my sanity like lava. Memories of the two worlds intertwined and collided in this emotion: the days of anxiety over papers in the university library, the performance meetings in the sales department of Oak Academy, the maple leaves floating outside the iron fence of the orphanage, the fast - food restaurant downstairs from the dormitory—each fragment was painfully real, yet as blurred as if 隔着 a frosted glass.

"Honey, breakfast is ready!"

That sweet voice came from the door. I turned my head sharply and saw her standing there. Her perfect body curves were outlined by the white silk nightgown. Her pale skin was almost transparent in the morning light, and her delicate features were like a meticulously carved doll. But what was most chilling was her smile—that ever - fixed, temperature - less smile.

"You..." I heard my voice trembling, made hoarse by anger, "YOU KILLED ME!"

The next second, my body rushed forward uncontrollably. Reason was shouting that this was a suicidal act, but the anger of being killed twice completely overwhelmed the fear. I wanted to tear that fake smile off her face, I wanted to—

Her smile distorted.

The muscles of her face flowed like melting wax. Her eye sockets shattered and protruded outwards at the same time. Her mouth tore open to the back of her ears. Countless black tentacles burst out from under her skin, dancing wildly in the air. Her voice became ear - piercing, as if dozens of people were screaming simultaneously: "OH, YOU CAN STILL SEE ME! HOW WONDERFUL!"

Intense pain came from all directions. Those tentacles pierced into my body, like barbed steel wires, tearing my flesh inch by inch. I could feel them spreading inside me, and wherever they touched was rotting. The Wife's face kept magnifying in front of me. Her eyes were like two pitch - black abysses, trying to suck my soul in.

"Thank you for seeing me..." Her voice suddenly became gentle, full of sickly love, "Let me show you my LOVE..."

When I woke up for the fourth time, I chose to keep my eyes closed.

Pretending to be asleep is a skill I, as a time - traveler, am most proficient in, I thought self - deprecatingly. From skipping classes in college to now trying to escape for my life, this skill has finally come in handy.

"Honey, breakfast is ready!"

The familiar voice sounded, but this time I didn't move a muscle. The mattress was soft, and the quilt was warm. If it weren't for the fact that there was a Specter in the room who wanted to kill me, this would have been a perfect morning to stay in bed.

"Still sleepy? The sun is already high up."

The voice was a bit closer, but there were no footsteps. I tried to keep my breathing rhythm steady while thinking quickly: Why does she always pretend to wake me up? Why can't she just kill me directly?

More importantly—why can't she touch me directly?

"Darling~ Don't you want your breakfast?"

The voice was right next to my ear, and a cold breath brushed my cheek. My muscles tensed, but I still stubbornly kept my eyes closed. In my fear, a strange thought emerged: Maybe as long as I don't look at her, she can't hurt me?

I started to recall the memories of the two worlds. The original world was very ordinary, with nothing special except final exams and club activities. But this world—the sales records of Oak Academy had some anomalies: missing students, late - night screams, and the security reports with vague "accidental incidents".

Most importantly, I remembered seeing a term in the corner of a document: Specter.

The morning light cast a faint red glow through my eyelids. I could feel she was still in the room, like a cold fog, ready to condense into the most terrifying form at any moment. But as long as I didn't look at her, I seemed to be safe for the time being.

This stand - off lasted for nearly two hours.

Then, a fatal problem emerged—I needed to go to the toilet.

Extremely cautiously, I opened a slit.

The modern - style bedroom looked normal: off - white walls, dark oak floors, and simple IKEA - style furniture. The morning light had become bright, illuminating the entire space. It seemed... there was no one?

I sat up carefully and checked the surroundings. The room was eerily quiet, only the air - conditioner vent making a slight humming sound. Maybe she had already—

Just as I was about to get up, I saw it.

In my pillow, a pale face was smiling at me. Her features were completely distorted, as if forcibly stuffed into the fabric. Her pitch - black eyes stared straight at me, and the corners of her mouth almost reached the back of her ears.

"Good morning, my love."

Darkness descended again.

This time, the death was excruciatingly painful. I could feel every nerve burning and every inch of my skin rotting. Before my consciousness dissipated, I seemed to hear her sobbing softly: "Why do you always try to leave..."

The next few attempts all ended in failure.

The fifth time: I tried to look at her directly and treat this "wife" with a calm attitude. As a result, her body split in the air like broken glass. Each fragment reflected the same smile, and finally cut me into pieces.

The sixth time: I tried to walk through her body. The plan was perfect in theory—since she couldn't touch me, I should be able to walk right through. But when I passed through her body, countless pale hands reached out from inside her and tore me to pieces.

From the seventh to the tenth time: I tried different routes. But whether it was the bathroom, the living room, or the kitchen, she could always appear in the most terrifying way. The pale arms stretching out from the toilet, the distorted smile reflected in the mirror, the hot water in the shower that suddenly turned into blood... Each time, she ensured that I died in pain in a new way.

The modern apartment facilities became her playground. Those devices that were supposed to provide convenience—the smart door lock, the sensor faucet, the voice - controlled lighting system, all became tools for her to torture me.

By the eleventh time, my spirit was on the verge of collapse.

"What a lovely wife..." I muttered to myself, my voice tinged with a crazy smile, "What a lovely, lovely wife..."

Death kept repeating. Sometimes I was torn apart, sometimes corroded, sometimes devoured by those black tentacles. Each death was more painful than the last, and each rebirth made my spirit more distorted.

The memories of the two worlds kept colliding in this cycle. I remembered the single bed in the college dormitory, the sales training at Oak Academy, all those lonely times. Perhaps it was this eternal loneliness that made me so quickly accept my new identity after traveling.

"What a lovely wife..." I continued to repeat, "She kills me because she loves me..."

By the seventeenth time, I couldn't remember how many times I had died. The pain became numb, and fear turned into a kind of twisted intimacy. The Wife also seemed to become more "gentle"—she started whispering to me in loving words before killing me, describing how she would tear me apart.

When I woke up for the eighteenth time, everything was different.

I lay in bed, feeling the warmth of the morning light. There was no more fear, no more anger in my heart, only a deathly calm. Even hatred had become so rational, like a carefully calculated mathematical formula.

"Honey, breakfast is ready!"

I calmly got out of bed, put on a shirt and suit pants, and completed each action like the operation of a precision instrument. The Wife was at the door, still maintaining that eternal smile. I walked straight through her body as if she were just a puff of air.

In the modern open - plan kitchen, I poured myself a cup of coffee and toasted a slice of bread. The Wife's figure appeared on the refrigerator door from time to time, and was reflected on the metal surface of the coffee machine, but I remained calm throughout. Occasionally, she would try to interfere with me in her distorted forms, but this time, I chose to completely ignore her existence.

When I came to the door, she made a final attempt. Her body poured down from the ceiling like a waterfall, with countless faces emerging and disappearing in it. But I just entered the access code and pushed open the door.

The corridor of the modern apartment building was quiet and clean. I walked from the fifth floor to the first floor, counting each step. The Wife's figure appeared on the wall from time to time, and flashed in the reflection of the emergency light, but none of them could affect my pace.

Pushing open the fire door, the sunlight poured in instantly.

Then, I saw the world outside.

"Is this... Hell?" I asked softly, with neither fear nor surprise in my voice.