The Frame

The shop owner's heart jumped, and his hands began to tremble. It was true that some decorative paintings hung on the walls of his office, but none of them were this large.

Besides, their frames were made of wood. They didn't have the cold, hard feel of the metal in front of him.

More importantly, his fingers, resting on the frame, felt something slick. This time it was warm, and it kept dripping down.

A sweet, coppery smell filled the air. Even an ordinary person like the shop owner, with little experience, could recognize it as blood.

After a brief moment of blankness, a horrifying image appeared in the shop owner's mind. What stood before him was that oil painting!

The oil painting of the Rain Night Murderer!

But... how was that possible?

The shop owner's pupils narrowed to slits. He was shocked and terrified, yet, remarkably, his thoughts remained clear.

That terrifying, ancient oil painting was in Room 19. Before Jiang Cheng and the others left, he had specifically begged them to lock the door. He remembered it very clearly!

"Who... who took the painting out and hung it in his office? No, that's not right. How could anyone dare move that painting? It came here by itself!" The shop owner's face turned ashen. He regretted it. He should never have taken those people into Room 19.

That thing had come for him.

But it was too late for regrets. Before the shop owner could react, a pale hand reached out from the frame and seized his wrist.

A chilling coldness and stiffness enveloped him, along with a suffocating sensation unlike anything he had ever felt. It was as if shards of ice had formed in his veins.

"Help!" the shop owner screamed. "Let go of me! Ah... ah,