Chapter 1I Spent the Night in a "Haunted Mansion," and Woke Up to This Comment: "Run, Get Out Now!"

Recently, I've had this unsettling feeling—like I’m not alone in the house.

I’m a professional haunted house tester, and this is my final five days in what is known as the "most haunted mansion in the country."

But today, when I woke up, my live stream's comment section exploded.

0"Two grand a night—stay for 30 days. Do you dare?"

When my dad needed an expensive medical procedure, and all I could think about was how to make quick cash, I took the offer without hesitation.

Dare? Of course, I dare.

Who wouldn’t take that kind of money?

To make the most of it, I started live streaming my stay. On the first day, viewers tipped me like crazy, even asking me to check every room in the mansion.

There was nothing unusual.

The place was dusty, the faucets were slightly rusted, and it was clear no one had lived here for a long time.

"Boring. This is supposed to be the most haunted house? Nothing creepy at all."

"Yeah, are you sure you checked every room?"

The comments kept coming, and I felt a little guilty. I smiled awkwardly and said, "Guys, I swear I’ve checked everywhere. Nothing strange to report."

"Maybe the 'haunted' thing is just a gimmick."

I lied to them.

There was one room I hadn’t checked—the one right next to mine.

It wasn’t because I was scared of what might be inside. The door wouldn’t open.

I knew my audience too well: the more a door refuses to open, the more they’ll insist I break it down.

But I couldn’t risk damaging the property. The decor alone screamed "expensive," and breaking the lock would probably cost me my entire paycheck—maybe even more. Forget saving up for my dad’s treatment, I’d be broke.

So, I brushed it off. My audience bought the excuse and focused on trying to spot something paranormal at night.

They failed.

Meanwhile, I ate well, slept soundly, and carried on without a care.

More than half the month flew by, and my live stream’s audience dwindled to just four or five regular viewers.

At least one familiar username was still there, so I wasn’t completely alone.

With only five days left, I didn’t expect anything exciting to happen. But deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

Recently, I’ve had this strange sensation—like there’s someone else in the house.

For example, I spend most of my time in one bedroom, but I keep hearing faint shuffling sounds outside.

Or how the TV remote on the couch always goes missing, and the ashtray on the coffee table seems slightly out of place every time I look at it.

Then, there was the time I left my dishes on the dining table after lunch. By evening, when I went to make dinner, I reached for the plates to clean them.

But I froze.

I’m left-handed, so I always place my chopsticks on the left side of the plate.

Why were they now on the right?

I swallowed hard, my nerves on edge, but I forced myself to act normal and quietly cleaned up.

From that moment on, I started paying closer attention. I made sure to leave my chopsticks on the left every single time.

I didn’t mention any of this during the live stream. I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure.

Then it happened again.

The chopsticks were on the right.

This time, my chest tightened, and I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Am I really the only one in this house?

By Day 26, I was counting down the hours, praying for the time to pass so I could collect my money and leave.

But what I didn’t expect—what I couldn’t have imagined—was waking up to find my live stream trending, ranked #2 in popularity.

The comment section was flooded, with messages flying so fast I could barely read them.

When I finally managed to make out a single comment, my blood ran cold:

"Run, get out now!"

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