Chapter 22 Peeping Over the Wall (2) Kobayashi Yuta spent almost the entire night...

Yuta Kobayashi barely slept a wink all night.

The morning sunlight streamed through the beige curtains, filling the room. But for Yuta Kobayashi, the sunlight was not enough to dispel the chill in the room or the gloom in his heart.

He huddled on the tatami mat, wrapped in a thick quilt, yet his teeth chattered from the cold. The cold wasn't physical; it was a chill that ran through his very soul.

He originally planned to stay in a hotel for one night, but he didn't have much money. He had used all his money to rent room 307, so his wallet was practically empty. Moreover, if he stayed in a hotel, he wouldn't have enough money to buy food.

Those bloodshot, greedily gazing eyes seemed etched into Yuta Kobayashi's mind, vividly reappearing with every blink. He could even recall his own face, distorted with fear, reflected deep within those pupils.

Strange noises would occasionally come from the middle of the night and early morning, causing him to suffer from complete insomnia and become extremely nervous.

“It’s an illusion, it must be an illusion…” Yuta Kobayashi muttered to himself, trying to use the dam of reason to block the surging panic. His voice was dry and hoarse: “I’ve been under too much pressure lately, it must be like this… It’s all fake.”

Yuta Kobayashi forced himself to stand up, but as soon as he did, he felt his legs go weak.

He went to the sink for a quick wash, and the cold water splashed on his face, the brief chill making him a little more awake.

When he looked in the mirror, the person in the mirror was pale, with sunken eyes and a lingering sense of shock in his pupils. This was himself in the mirror, and he almost dared not look at his reflection.

He was afraid that he would see that eye appear again through the crack in the wall behind the sink.

After quickly changing his clothes, Kobayashi Yuta fled from room 307 as if he were escaping.

The apartment building's corridor seemed to be a bit normal during the day, but the surroundings seemed unusually quiet. Usually, the neighbors would be very noisy, but now their doors were tightly closed, and no daily sounds could be heard, as if he was the only living person left in the entire building.

Even though Yuta Kobayashi left 307, the feeling of being spied on did not disappear because of his departure.

Walking on the damp streets, it's been raining in Yokohama for the past few days.

Yuta Kobayashi felt that every passerby's gaze seemed to linger on him for a moment longer—the glances from office workers brushing past him, the scans from convenience store clerks handing him rice balls, and even the unintentional glances from strangers in roadside coffee shops.

Every gaze made Yuta Kobayashi uneasy. He subconsciously pulled up his collar and hunched his neck, trying to minimize his presence.

On the only way to the subway station, there's a convenience store with a huge glass window. Every time he passes by, he sees his reflection and the street scene reflected in it. Today, just as his gaze swept across the window, the street scene behind him in the reflection seemed to distort, becoming blurry and pale. An inhuman facial outline flashed past his shoulder.

"!" Kobayashi Yuta turned around abruptly, his heart almost leaping out of his chest.

Behind me were only pedestrians holding umbrellas, hurrying by with blank expressions; nothing else.

He took a deep breath, turned around, and stared intently at the shop window, where his reflection could be seen, revealing just how terrible his face looked.

Am I seeing things? Or...?

The growing unease made Yuta Kobayashi feel like he couldn't breathe.

During his lunch break, he hid in a toilet stall at the company, trying to catch his breath for a moment. Just as he took out his phone, the screen suddenly went black. The dark screen, like a poorly made mirror, reflected his blurry outline and the cold light above him.

Just as he thought his phone was malfunctioning and was about to restart it, a pair of phantom eyes seemed to slowly emerge from the depths of the dark screen.

His hand trembled, and his phone almost fell into the toilet.

All day, Yuta Kobayashi was in a daze, and his work efficiency dropped significantly. He was scolded by his editor-in-chief. He didn't dare to tell his story because it sounded too much like the ramblings of a madman.

After getting off work, he did not go home immediately.

That apartment, that room, that gap—it evoked a sense of resistance he had never felt before.

So Yuta Kobayashi wandered aimlessly through the streets until, after a long time, the rain outside subsided.

Yuta Kobayashi looked up at the sky. He had to do something; he couldn't bear it all alone any longer.

Yuta Kobayashi first found the landlord, a middle-aged man living in a detached house nearby, who was busy pruning the overgrown plants in the yard.

"Walls? Cracks? Eyes?" After listening to Yuta Kobayashi's incoherent description, which omitted the horrifying details as much as possible, the landlord impatiently waved the scissors in his hand: "Mr. Kobayashi, it's normal for an old house to have some cracks. Have you been working too hard lately and your eyes are getting blurry? I'm very busy. Don't come to me for such trivial matters. We're both adults. Can't you take care of yourself?"

“But that’s not ordinary…” Yuta Kobayashi tried to argue.

"Alright, alright," the landlord interrupted him, her eyes filled with a hint of disdain and perfunctoriness. "If everyone were as paranoid as you, would I still be able to rent out this place? It's okay, just go back and get a good night's sleep."

With nowhere else to turn for help, Yuta Kobayashi's heart sank completely.

He even went to the nearby police station, where a young policeman on duty listened to Kobayashi Yuta's account. His expression gradually changed from being businesslike to sympathetic, and even a little pitying.

"Hmm... It feels like being spied on, doesn't it?" The young policeman took notes, but the handwriting was noticeably messy. "Mr. Kobayashi, how's your sleep lately? Are you under a lot of stress? We understand the hardships of young people living alone, but... well, without substantial evidence, it's difficult for us to handle this situation. We suggest you go to the hospital for a checkup, or talk to a friend."

As he left the police station, Yuta Kobayashi felt a chilling loneliness wash over him. No one believed him; they all thought he was crazy. Maybe…maybe he really was crazy?

As the night grew darker, he had no choice but to turn back. The closer he got to the apartment building, the greater the invisible pressure became, and the chill on his back grew increasingly biting.

He walked slowly, almost shuffling along, his head bowed low, not daring to look at any reflective objects around him.

On the street corner just below the apartment building, a used bookstore, about to close, still had its warm lights on. Kobayashi Yuta walked in almost unconsciously, perhaps looking for something to distract himself, or perhaps simply wanting to linger a little longer in that comforting atmosphere of books and light.

The bookstore was small, with bookshelves crammed together, and the air was filled with the unique fragrance of old paper and ink.

The shop owner didn't seem to be at the front desk. Kobayashi Yuta wandered absentmindedly among the bookshelves, his hand unconsciously tracing the spines of the books.

Suddenly, a voice rang out behind him.

"Your walls are watching you."

Yuta Kobayashi froze, his blood seemingly frozen, and he quickly turned around.

A young man who looked about eighteen or nineteen years old stood silently behind him.

The young man was dressed in simple dark clothes, his hair was a little messy, but his eyes were unusually clear and calm. He was looking at him quietly, as if he were just stating a very ordinary fact.

"W-what did you say?" Kobayashi Yuta's voice trembled with fear. He was certain that he had never seen this young man before, nor had he ever spoken to him about him.

The young man did not answer, but tilted his head slightly, his wooden gaze seemingly scanning around Kobayashi Yuta, as if observing something invisible.

“It likes you very much,” the young man added, his tone still calm, but the words were chilling.

"Who are you?! How do you know..." Kobayashi Yuta's heart was pounding wildly. He took a step back, his back hitting the bookshelf behind him, and several books fell to the ground.

"It's just a feeling," the young man said calmly, his gaze sweeping over Kobayashi Yuta as if he were looking at something. This look terrified Kobayashi Yuta, who looked behind him but saw nothing.

“The gazes there are intense, and yours are the heaviest.” The young man paused, his gaze refocusing on Kobayashi Yuta’s pale face. “You’d better be careful. Sometimes, if you look at someone too many times, you’ll get pulled over.”

What are you pulling over?

Before Kobayashi Yuko could voice her doubts, the young man, not intending to pay her any more attention, turned and walked deeper into the bookstore, his figure quickly disappearing into the shadows of piled-up old books.

Yuta Kobayashi stood frozen in place, his back soaked with cold sweat.

Did that young man see it?

Did he sense it?

Is everything he said true?

Amidst the immense fear, there was also a strange sense of comfort—he wasn't the only one who could feel it! He wasn't completely insane!

But what followed was an even deeper fear.

It likes you very much.

If you watch it too many times, you'll be pulled over.

The young man's words echoed incessantly in his mind like a curse.

Yuta Kobayashi practically tumbled and crawled out of the bookstore, fleeing the warm lights and plunging headlong into the cold, rainy night and suffocating fear.

He dared not look back at the bookstore, nor dared he ponder who that mysterious young man was.

Zhu Yi, who was cleaning the bookstore, suddenly sneezed and rubbed his nose.

"I never expected to run into an unlucky soul chosen by ghost stories here."

Sigh, never mind. I've already reminded them. I'll just finish cleaning first and then wait until I get off work to go home.

"Was there a customer just now?" The bookstore owner came downstairs. Zhu nodded. "They came in and then left."

"I see." The bookstore owner was a little disappointed, then looked at Zhu Yi: "You can go home early after you finish cleaning, since there aren't many customers. I'll pay you in a bit."

"Okay, boss! No problem, boss! Thank you, boss!"

Yuta Kobayashi returned to the door of room 307. His hand holding the key trembled violently, and he couldn't quite get the key into the lock several times.

Is what that young man said true?

The thing inside the wall... "likes" him?

But what does "being pulled over" mean?

An unprecedented fear filled him with immense panic. He leaned against the cold, rough door, slowly slid down to the floor, and buried his face in his knees.

In the quiet, a business card slipped out of the side pocket of his suit trousers with a soft "thud".

A business card slipped out of his pocket and fell to the ground.

Yuta Kobayashi's shoulders twitched almost imperceptibly. After a long while, he slowly raised his head, his disheveled hair hanging in front of his eyes. He squinted, his gaze slowly sweeping across the ground before finally landing on the card that was faintly illuminated by the light.

He braced himself against the ground and slowly picked up the business card.

Are those gym, insurance, or real estate agency advertising cards again?

Yuta Kobayashi frowned impatiently. A series of recent troubles had left him exhausted. He didn't bother to look at them closely and tossed one into the nearby trash can.

A note from the author:

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Zhu Yi: Even if I give you a chance, it won't be of any use.