The Fifteenth Floor's Basement 2

Before I explain where my friend is currently staying, let me tell you a bit about him.

I met him in college. His full name is Zhu Changan, so I call him "Chang'an." He was also a sophomore at Xianshui University, a young man with a dashing appearance, always dressed in designer clothes.

Although his conversation was normal up to this point, he was actually a well-known "prodigal son" in the area. His father held a high-ranking government position, and his family was extremely wealthy. I don't know exactly how rich, but certainly beyond the comprehension of an ordinary student like myself, and I wasn't particularly interested in that aspect anyway. I only occasionally heard people maliciously call him "Young Master Zhu" on campus.

To say that this malice was solely based on anti-rich sentiment would be an oversimplification. If my reputation on campus was merely that of being unconventional, Chang'an was universally scorned. The simple label of "rich kid" doesn't explain it. The reason lies with him.

He was a notorious "prodigal son" on campus, often heard boasting about his father's status and acting arrogantly, causing trouble. There were even rumors that he and his cronies frequently frequented disreputable establishments that students shouldn't go to. Over time, he became ostracized by the vast majority of those who maintained their integrity.

There's a hidden reason behind his bad reputation, but he did do some bad things. We actually became friends after a falling out.

Going into the details of that story would take too long, so I'll focus on his current living situation for now.

Perhaps it's a case of "close to ink, one gets stained," but he shares my interest in urban legends to a certain degree. And since he didn't have any close friends at school, he rented a place off-campus. Coincidentally, in an ordinary residential complex near Xianshui University, there was an vacant apartment where someone had died. It was on the fifteenth floor, a high-rise.

When I say "someone had died," I don't mean an elderly person who passed away naturally or a tenant who committed suicide. I mean a genuine, horrifying murder case had occurred there.

The case happened eight months ago. Chang'an's previous tenant was found disemboweled in the bathroom by an unknown assailant. The scene was exceptionally bloody, so much so that the neighbors next door were scared into moving out. The killer's identity remains a mystery, and they are still at large. It's completely understandable why no one dared to rent that apartment.

I heard that the place was haunted at night. I went to investigate and stayed there for three days and three nights. Nothing happened. It's been less than two weeks since then. Afterward, Chang'an rented it under the guise of a dare and moved in as a joke.

"Now it seems the place really is haunted? Did the previous tenant turn into a vengeful spirit and come after you?"

"No, it's not..." He shook his head repeatedly. "It's the basement. I found the basement."

"So it's just the basement... " I was initially disappointed, then I sensed something was off. "...Wait, did you say 'basement'? In that apartment?"

"Yes, in that fifteenth-floor apartment."

Still shaken, he began to explain the sequence of events:

It started the night before last. He was watching videos online of people cleaning old carpets. Carpets, especially shag carpets, easily accumulate dirt. The video uploader would specifically choose very dirty carpets to clean and film. So after watching it, he thought about the black shag carpet in his own living room.

It had been in the living room since he moved in, having likely seen countless tenants. He had never paid it any attention before, but now he found it objectionable. Black was a color that showed dirt easily, and it might contain a lot of grime, possibly even the previous tenant's blood, all without his knowledge. He wanted to replace it.

And when he lifted the carpet, the floor beneath revealed something that shouldn't exist in everyday life.

It was a complexly drawn "magic circle" rendered in black paint.

Could it be that a previous tenant was a chuunibyo obsessed with black magic, and this was a remnant of theirs? It was natural for Chang'an to think so.

Soon after, he noticed an unignorable object within the magic circle: a square wooden cover, about a meter long and wide, embedded in the floor.

Driven by curiosity, he opened the cover.

To his surprise, beneath the cover was a bottomless staircase leading down into darkness.

He was instantly shocked.

Was this a basement? But this was the fifteenth floor. How could there be a basement on the fifteenth floor?

He quickly arrived at a plausible explanation: this staircase probably led to the apartment downstairs. Just in case, he didn't go down the stairs. Instead, he went out to ask the downstairs neighbor and, after getting permission, went inside to check.

There was no staircase in the downstairs apartment, nor was there an open hole in the ceiling.

For a moment, he was overcome with indescribable dread.

That dark staircase led to a space that didn't exist in reality.

I was deeply captivated by his description, and my curiosity was piqued.

"Did you go down?"

Chang'an slammed the table and exclaimed involuntarily, "How could I possibly go down?!"

The staff and customers in the tea restaurant all looked at him. He coughed awkwardly and sat back down.

"In any case, I didn't go down, and I've already temporarily moved to a nearby hotel. I really don't dare to keep living there anymore," he said after calming down. "However, I haven't terminated the lease yet, and I still have the key."

I nodded and continued to ask, "So, did you try to illuminate the space below the staircase?"

"I tried. The depth below should be over three meters, and the bottom of the stairs is a gray concrete floor," he said dejectedly. "I don't know any more than that. I didn't dare to go down and investigate."

"Besides me, have you told anyone else about this?"

"Yes, I told my sister yesterday, but she didn't believe me."

"You mean Zhu Shi? You met me yesterday too. You told Zhu Shi, but not me?" I felt a bit miffed.

Zhu Shi, Chang'an's sister, was a year younger than him and me. I had met her a few times before.

This year, she had enrolled as a freshman at Xianshui University. Unlike the notorious Chang'an, her first impression evoked images of streams, clear springs, and misty lakes – a delicate female student like a watercolor painting.

It was normal for her not to believe Chang'an, or rather, any normal person wouldn't believe Chang'an's account.

Chang'an quickly gave an awkward laugh, steered the conversation back, and added, "Also... when I encountered that incident the night before last, I called the police immediately."

"You called the police?" I instinctively frowned.

From my current perspective, it was difficult to feel safe with the police.

"And then what? You told them you had a strange incident at your home, and they actually came?"

"How could I say that directly? I just came up with a random excuse to get the police there first. And when the police arrived, I lifted the carpet again in front of them, and the result was..." Chang'an's face grew even more grim. "It disappeared. The wooden cover vanished without a trace, and the entrance to the basement was gone. There was only that suspicious magic circle on the floor. I was treated as someone who made a false report and was almost detained."

Just then, he noticed my expression and quickly explained, "Wait, I'm really not lying to you. I really saw the basement at the time!"

"While I personally want to believe you..."

In the past, many people I'd interviewed who claimed to have experienced supernatural events shared a common trait: they'd insist they encountered paranormal phenomena in certain situations, but when I accompanied them or investigated based on their clues, the phenomena would vanish.

Chang'an's current situation was remarkably similar to my past experiences. He claimed to have encountered a strange phenomenon, but it was something only he could perceive. When anyone else was present, the phenomenon would consciously hide itself.

How could I possibly believe him wholeheartedly?

However, he was my friend, after all. I still wanted to give him the most basic level of trust.

"Believe me! I know many people have deceived you in the past, which is why I didn't talk to you at school yesterday. I was afraid you'd think I was one of them!" he said, flustered. "But... but! Last night, I suddenly couldn't let it go. I felt that, logically and emotionally, I should find you and discuss it. You're probably the only one willing to believe me now..."

"Last night, suddenly?" I seized on the key point. "Around what time?"

"Huh? Um... around ten o'clock?" he said uncertainly.

That was when I had just met Maza.

Assuming both Chang'an and Maza were telling the truth, I should have missed the strange event that Chang'an personally experienced. But due to Maza's misfortune-attracting constitution, Chang'an, who was far away, suddenly changed course and knocked on my door with clues to this event?

Chang'an's testimony had many suspicious points, yet it could, to some extent, corroborate Maza's statement...

As I pondered the logic between the two events, I said to Chang'an, "Words are not enough. Take me to your place first."

"Okay, but..." he hesitated.

I countered, "Aren't you looking for me precisely so I can go with you to see that house again?"

"...Yes. It was definitely not a hallucination or nightmare I had when I was alone; it was a real, existing strangeness. I hope you can help me prove that... that's what I was thinking." He first admitted it, then became hesitant. "But, if nothing happens this time..."

"Just take me there," I said firmly. "I promise, even if there's nothing under the carpet, I won't blame you."

Having reached this point, he couldn't say much more. After hastily filling our stomachs at the tea restaurant, he left with me for the house.

We passed through the entrance of the residential complex, then went through the security door of the apartment building, and took the elevator all the way to the fifteenth floor. Chang'an took out his key, opened the door to the target apartment, and led me into the living room.

A house where someone had died didn't look much different from an ordinary person's home. In fact, it had acquired a bit of lived-in atmosphere due to Chang'an's recent occupancy. To put it plainly, there were more odds and ends. A few crumpled clothes were tossed on the sofa, and the trash can was full of takeout containers with leftover sauce and rice.

Between the sofa and the television was the black, plush carpet he had mentioned. It looked like a very ordinary, old carpet, with a few large, coffee-colored English letters drawn on it, spelling out the word "carpet."

"Alright... I'm going to open it," Chang'an swallowed.

I didn't want to act presumptuously in his home, so I verbally urged him, "Open it."

It took him over ten seconds to prepare himself. Then he stepped forward, squatted down, grabbed the edge of the carpet with both hands, and yanked it open.

Beneath the carpet, on the floor, was a complex magic circle drawn with dark paint.

And in the center of the magic circle was a light brown wooden lid.