9 Basement of the Fifteenth Floor 3

Page 1/3

The one most astonished by the wooden cover at the center of the magic circle was not me, but Chang’an. Before I could even express any thoughts, he couldn’t contain himself and let out an exclamation, his eyes fixed tightly on that wooden cover.

After a moment, he shouted excitedly, “It’s appeared… it’s appeared! I knew it wasn’t just my imagination… Acheng, did you see it too? You saw it, right?”

“I saw it,” I replied simply.

“You don’t seem very excited?” Seeing this, he calmed down a bit and asked with some puzzlement, “Aren’t you usually the most interested in things like this?”

“I am interested, no doubt, but what I’m seeing now is just a piece of wood.”

I wasn’t going to “pop the champagne” until I personally saw the basement Chang’an had mentioned earlier. That said, I only maintained calm outwardly. Deep down, trusting my friend, I was indeed stirred, feeling my blood rush faster.

I didn’t recklessly lift the wooden cover but first crouched down to examine the magic circle on the floor.

The circle was composed of numerous twisted lines and symbols, yet it exhibited a clear order that kept it from looking like chaotic doodles. As for Western mysticism, my knowledge was scattered and unsystematic, making me utterly clueless when trying to analyze this circle. But there was one thing I did notice.

I reached out and lightly touched the edge of the circle’s lines, my fingers picking up a trace of black paint used for drawing. After a little rubbing, I was completely sure: this pigment was dried, oxidized blood.

Considering the clue about a bizarre murder that had occurred in this house, could it be that the magic circle was drawn by the murderer, using the victim’s blood as paint?

If so, what was the killer’s purpose? And why leave the magic circle in this house?

Was the murderer still monitoring this place?

“Shall we open the cover and see?” Chang’an tentatively asked beside me, though he didn’t dare to lift the wooden cover himself.

“Yeah.” I nodded and stood up, stepping directly into the center of the magic circle.

The wooden cover had no handle or groove. I bent down and slid my fingers into the gap between the cover and the floor.

Immediately, I lifted the cover high, and what lay beneath came into view.

At that moment, I instinctively held my breath.

Beneath the wooden cover was exactly as Chang’an had said: a pitch-black entrance, and below it, an endless staircase leading to a basement!

But this was the fifteenth floor!

Chang’an seemed to hold his breath as well, then spoke in a cautious tone, as if afraid to disturb something: “Did you see it? I wasn’t lying…”

I stared fixedly at the staircase before me.

The steps were made of grayish-white concrete, unadorned and raw. Part of it was starkly exposed before my eyes, while the rest plunged deep into darkness, as if leading to a terrifying, unknown netherworld. Just a glance sent chills down my spine.

For a moment, countless chaotic images flashed through my mind.

This eerie sight was like a meteor crashing into the lake of my heart, stirring up endless ripples. All the efforts I had made in the past to explore the strange and bizarre surfaced one after another.

Even Masao’s previous words came back to me, surfacing in my thoughts:

—The greatest difference between the current world and the apocalyptic world is time and space—the apocalyptic world’s time and space are distorted, and survivors can encounter strange and bizarre phenomena at any moment.

Page 2/3

—The apocalypse does not descend suddenly; it has its signs and preludes, but people today have not paid enough attention.

—Unbelievable phenomena, or grotesque monsters… such things have surely already appeared openly in this era.

Could this be what Masao meant by the signs and preludes of the apocalypse?

However, judging from the magic circle at the scene, this was likely a man-made anomaly, not a natural disaster… No, wait, I was jumping to conclusions. Who says the apocalypse must be caused by natural disasters and not man-made calamities?

Could this strange phenomenon be connected to the apocalyptic signs Masao mentioned?

Hold on, my thoughts were running ahead. I shouldn’t leap to faraway, unsubstantiated conclusions. What should I do first?

“Chang’an, wait here for me. I’m going downstairs to check.”

After saying this, I stepped out to the corridor and left a “firefly” inside the house.

At this critical moment, I realized I was still hesitant—afraid that this strange anomaly would turn out to be a carefully crafted hoax. So I didn’t immediately send the “firefly” to explore beneath the hole but had it watch Chang’an for the time being.

As for myself, I leaned against the railing in the corridor, calming my restless mind by looking at the scenery, then went downstairs and knocked on a tenant’s door, pretending to have knocked on the wrong door.

When the door opened, I secretly slipped a “firefly” inside to scout around.

As Chang’an described earlier, there was no descending staircase visible from there, nor was there a hole in the ceiling.

Meanwhile, through the “firefly” watching Chang’an, I confirmed a crucial fact—he hadn’t closed the wooden cover during this time, and I could still observe the entrance’s existence.

Now I could be one hundred percent sure.

That hole did indeed lead to a “space that doesn’t exist in reality.”

—

The strange entity I had dreamed of and sought for so long, something I’d only seen in fantasy stories, truly existed!

I had imagined countless times what it would be like to finally confirm this truth. Yet now, having seen it with my own eyes, I wasn’t as wildly ecstatic as I thought I’d be.

It wasn’t fear, nor had my enthusiasm for the incredible suddenly waned at this critical moment. I think this emotion I felt was quite universal.

Many people, when suddenly faced with drastic change, don’t react as dramatically as movies portray. For example, those who suddenly learn they’ve won the lottery or receive tragic news of a family member’s death—they often don’t instantly rejoice or despair, but need a long time to process the overwhelming reality.

It felt like falling into a dream—that perhaps best describes my current state.

I couldn’t even tell if my feet were firmly on the ground.

Today was an exceptionally important day in my life; even this sensation of having my feet suspended in midair was precious. If I could, I would immerse myself longer in this dreamlike experience.

But I had to regain my normal thinking quickly. The stranger the event, the clearer the mind must be. Many characters in horror stories die because they lose their wits—I certainly didn’t want to be so weak.

Moreover, I had to seriously face an important question.

If what Chang’an said was true, then Masao’s claim that he was a “bane” became more credible. And if Masao really brought disaster to those around him, would this pernicious influence extend to the “people around his friends”?

In other words, could Chang’an’s encounter with the anomaly be because he was my friend?

Page 3/3

I met Masao last night, while Chang’an’s strange event happened the night before that. Chronologically, Chang’an’s experience does not form a normal causal chain with Masao’s disaster-attracting nature. But when it comes to anomalies, common sense doesn’t always apply—we must consider reversed causality.

That is: because I met Masao last night, Chang’an encountered the anomaly the night before, with the purpose that he would respond to Masao’s disaster nature today and drag me into the anomaly—such a bizarre causal link might hold in the world of the strange.

If so, how should I handle my relationship with Masao?

—

I returned to the house where the hole was. Chang’an was standing outside the entrance with a flashlight, cautiously shining it inside as if afraid some monster might suddenly emerge. When he saw me return, he finally relaxed. I had more or less gathered my thoughts.

“Sorry, Chang’an,” I sighed. “Maybe I’ve dragged you into this.”

“Why say that all of a sudden?” he asked, surprised.

“I’ll explain later.” I already had some ideas on how to deal with it. “For now, let’s focus on the problem at hand.”

Hearing this, he didn’t ask further and shifted his attention back to the hole.

By the flashlight’s beam, I could clearly see the scene below the stairs. The space below was just over three meters deep, with a gray concrete floor—as expected, it indeed looked like a basement.

I silently observed the hole.

Once I realized the hole’s supernatural nature, it exerted an irresistible allure. It was like pulling the plug from a bathtub full of water and quietly watching the whirlpool drag the water into the dark abyss below. It felt as if my own heart was about to flow into the depths.

Savoring this addictive feeling, I stepped forward two paces, wanting to get a closer look.

Suddenly, someone grabbed my arm from the side. Turning, I saw Chang’an holding me, his rare serious expression evident.

“Are you thinking of going down?”

“Isn’t that obvious?”

If I didn’t want to go down and see, that would be impossible.

He stared wide-eyed, saying, “What kind of nonsense is that? I didn’t call you here so you could go down.”

“You called me here, how could I not investigate?” I countered, then suddenly understood.

Right—from my perspective, encountering an anomaly means personally investigating thoroughly; I believed others would think the same of me. And of course, Chang’an, as my friend, knew my habits well.

But this time was different. Having experienced this strange event first, Chang’an formed a preconceived notion that “this hole must not be entered” and unconsciously projected that judgment onto me when telling me about it—he never imagined anyone would want to go down.

“Don’t worry, I’m not as reckless as you think. Even if I want to go down, it won’t be right now.”

Saying this, I shielded his view with my body and sent the “firefly” flying into the hole below.

But then, something incredible happened.

As the “firefly” passed into the hole—the “space that doesn’t exist in reality”—the psychic link between it and me was severed, and the “firefly” itself vanished into thin air like a candle extinguished by the wind.