Inside the house.
There were many blackened bloodstains on the walls and floor. Some of the furniture was badly damaged, covered in haphazard chop marks. Something horrifying seemed to have happened here.
"One portion of my husband, one of my little darling, one of Mom and Dad..."
A woman's soft, contented singsong drifted from the kitchen.
Judging by her busy figure from behind, she seemed to be preparing dinner, taking ingredients out of the refrigerator and chopping them up bit by bit with a cleaver.
The woman took great care.
She prepared a separate portion of food for everyone.
But if anyone came closer and saw those bloody ingredients, they would understand that when she said "my husband," "my little darling," and "Mom and Dad," she might not mean dishes she was making for them to eat.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Just then, knocking came from outside.
The woman's humming stopped abruptly. She wiped her hands on her apron and walked toward the door. "Strange. Who would be knocking this late at night?"
She was very cautious. Instead of opening the door right away, she leaned against the peephole and looked outside.
But there was nothing outside the door.
The knocking had also vanished, as though it had never happened.
"Was I hearing things?"
The woman shook her head and decided to go back to cooking, but she had only just returned to the kitchen.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The knocking started again.
By the time she ran to the door, there was still nothing beyond the peephole. As though something had occurred to her, she hurried upstairs and looked out through a second-floor window.
Everything around her was pitch-black, the silence almost eerie.
"What little brat is playing tricks?!"
The woman cursed under her breath, though it sounded more like she