Chapter 1

As the dawn of my demise loomed only three days away, I found myself unexpectedly reborn.

Moments earlier, I had been locked in a harrowing battle of wits with a murderer in my apartment, alongside my closest friend. Together, we had fought tooth and nail to escape the clutches of danger.

But when faced with a terrifying specter of my once trusted confidante, I let out a piercing scream of terror.

My friend, now transformed into a ghastly apparition, sought to torment me to my final breath, hoping to elicit a more fearful expression from me. Yet, as she inflicted her torment upon me, all I could muster was not fear, but a fiery determination and unwavering courage — a dauntless spirit that refused to yield to the darkness that sought to consume me.

Regaining my composure after the shock of a narrow escape, I surveyed my apartment: the shaky door ready to come off its hinges, the decayed wooden windows, the massive wardrobe, and the plumbing in the bathroom that seemed to be from another era.

I attempted to broach these future occurrences with various individuals, whether through speech or writing, only to find myself experiencing unbearable headaches. Consequently, I abandoned the idea of communicating with others about this matter.

I immediately called a renovation company.

"I want this place turned into a vault, like in a bank. If a criminal can break in here, then I've lost."

I've tried calling the police and leaving this apartment, but something inexplicable always stopped me. It's like some unseen force, perhaps my so-called best friend, has been plotting against me for a while.

Feeling a wave of despair, I quickly shook it off.

After making sure my bank account could cover the expenses, I called up five different renovation companies.

"If I can't get out, then no killer is getting in."

I couldn't trust anyone around me.

A murderer lurking in the apartment complex, neighbors with their own agendas, friends who visit with secrets of their own.

Everyone seemed to be lying.

While I couldn't handle the murderer, the neighbors, or even my friends at this moment, I could certainly secure this apartment, which felt as safe as a house of cards.

I contacted the best renovation company in town, sparing no expense, to replace the doors and windows within a day with the kind only found in bank vaults.

Given my intense suspicion, I was well aware that the killer might disguise themselves as a renovation worker, potentially leaving behind surveillance devices or secret passages when I wasn't paying attention.