Daylight gradually brightened in the east after a night that had touched upon the truth.
The Rose Hotel, long buried in darkness, finally saw a thread of dawn struggle into view and climb to the silent fourth floor. Yet an elongated black figure cut that light short.
The figure wore a long black robe that concealed its build. Only the trailing hem made an imperceptibly faint sound as it brushed against the carpet with each step.
Even in the utter silence of the hotel corridor before dawn, no one could detect its presence or hear its footsteps.
This Black Robed Figure seemed like a phantom within the established order. Unless it wished to be seen, there was no way to glimpse its true form.
It slowly passed one door after another, from the unoccupied room 401 to room 408, without pausing at all. When it passed room 409, its sleeve gave a slight tremble, but it still did not stop.
Only at room 410 did it truly halt. Rather than standing to face the door, however, it merely paused while still facing down the corridor, then resumed walking a moment later.
It ignored room 411 entirely and went straight to the door of room 412.
It stopped, turned, and stood motionless.
The Black Robed Figure stood before room 412 just like that. Though its face could not be seen, one could still sense that its gaze was fixed firmly on the door.
Or rather, on the person behind it.
If it was human, it would not know what lay behind the door.
But if it was a ghost, it would surely see clearly that, at this very moment, a long-haired man dressed in black stood on the other side, staring back at it with slightly bloodshot eyes.
For whether the