79: Seventy-nine.

The shadow behind the wallpaper 79: Seventy-nine.

The shadow behind the wallpaper The soothing and relaxing piano melody emanated from the study, seeping into the dimly lit corridor.

The tune lasted for several seconds before coming to an abrupt halt, as the sound of the piano keys resonated.

McPherson turned his head, startled.

“What’s the matter…?” Dorin appeared at the doorway, her coffee steaming in her hand.

Seeing that it was his wife, McPherson let out a small sigh of relief, “Maybe it’s because we just moved to a new home, everything here is so unfamiliar, it’s normal to overthink…

Let’s go to bed earlier, we can start working again tomorrow morning.”

Dorin walked into the study and placed the coffee beside the table, “But I’ve already made the coffee.”

“Drink it when we wake up in the morning, it’ll be perfect to perk me up.” McPherson closed the piano lid and tidied up the few sheets of discarded music drafts, throwing them into the waste basket.

Dorin paused slightly over the waste basket and changed the subject, “Speaking of the neighbors, what’s with them?

I was just downstairs tidying up the yard and heard them talking about this place.”

“What did they say?

That a great artist became their neighbor?” McPherson said with a self-deprecating laugh.

Frowning with concern, Dorin said, “I couldn’t hear clearly, but they seemed to fear this place…

this house…”

“They might just be shy, you know, we’re outsiders; it’s normal for the locals to be afraid.” McPherson didn’t seem to care too much.

“But…”

McPherson pulled his still-talking wife onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her waist softly saying, “I know you still have complaints, but it’s not bad to be able to buy such a big house for just a few ten thousands, right?”

Dorin wriggled free with annoyance and stood up, walking toward the door, “I’m going to bed first, I need to get up early tomorrow to find a nearby academy for Beth.”

“Wait for me.”

McPherson covered the coffee with a piece of Leather Paper to keep the dust off and picked up the study’s oil lamp to follow her out.

Thud.

The door to the room closed, plunging the piano room into darkness.

Returning to the bedroom, the couple saw their daughter, clad in her pajamas, playing with Jack.

“It’s time for you to go to bed,” Dorin stated, hands on her hips as she walked over to pick up her daughter.

Jack attempted to jump and play with his little owner but was gently tapped on the head by Dorin and, with a droopy tail, followed behind the family of three to the bedroom at the end of the hallway.

After placing their daughter on the bed and tucking her in, Dorin kissed Beth’s forehead and left an oil lamp on the bedside.

The couple retreated to the door, said goodnight, and closed it behind them.

The room darkened comfortingly, but suddenly a thin humanoid silhouette appeared on the ceiling above the bed.

“Ahh—!”

Beth’s eyes widened in terror, and she let out a piercing scream.

The still-ajar door was pushed open and light flooded in.

The couple, shocked, saw their daughter pointing at the ceiling and crying, “There’s someone on the ceiling!”

Hearing this, the couple’s hair stood on end, and they instinctively looked up, but aside from the ceiling and the black gaps, there was nothing else.

Exchanging helpless glances, Dorin spent a while comforting her and then called the golden retriever to the bed, saying, “Jack will stay with you, aren’t you afraid anymore?”

“Mm…” Beth nodded timidly, clutching the edge of the blanket.

Dorin took a deep breath and retreated to the door, “Don’t scare us again.”

Click.

The couple left the room.

With the closing of the door, the last bit of light in the corridor vanished.

“Whimper…”

Beth shrank back under the covers, afraid.

The footsteps receded outside the door, and Jack lay down beside her, pressing down on the blanket.

With Jack’s company, Beth mustered her courage and tentatively peered out, her dark eyes focusing on the dim room, blinking.

“Could Beth have really seen something…”

On the way back to their room, Dorin muttered softly.

Yawning, McPherson said, “Could be the rats in the attic, I’ll go up and check tomorrow morning.”

“Huh?

The wallpaper is torn.”

Dorin stopped in her tracks, frowning at a tear in the wallpaper that revealed the grey wooden board behind it.

The rip was right next to their daughter’s bedroom, and they hadn’t noticed it when they moved in.

Gently nudging his wife to keep moving, McPherson said helplessly, “It’s not a big deal.

If you don’t like the wallpaper, we can go buy new ones tomorrow.”

“No need, we’ve already lost our source of income…”

Beth and Mike returned to their bedroom, changed into their pajamas, and went to bed early.

After a busy day of moving, they were both somewhat tired.

Click.

McPherson dimmed the oil lamp on the bedside table.

The moment the room darkened, a dry, human-like silhouette flashed across the ceiling.

…

Jack suddenly looked up, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Beth lay sleeping soundly next to him, curled on her side, one small hand clutching the soft golden fur.

Jack, as if he’d seen something, raised his head and moved gently, apparently following something moving along the ceiling.

“Woof…”

Jack let out a low whine, then abruptly stood up, tucked his tail under, and jumped off the bed to the door.

He stood on his hind legs, his paws resting on the handle, easily pressing it down.

Click—

A crack opened in the door.

Jack pushed the door open with his head and slipped outside.

The dark hallway was silent as his paws clicked softly against the wooden floor, the sound not carrying far.

Jack reached the tear near the door, just as he had during the day, growling with bared teeth at the torn wallpaper.

Something was happening in the darkness; a dark, substantial arm slowly reached out from the wall, its dry fingers clawing toward Jack.

“Woof…!”

Jack’s ears drooped, his tail was tucked, and he emitted a whining, threatening grunt.

The arm, unaffected, continued to reach for Jack.

His defiant snarl extending all the way to his ears, Jack suddenly lunged at the dark arm to bite it.

Clack—

A crisp sound of teeth snapping shut, and Jack bit through the dry palm, catching nothing but air.

Jack froze, while at the same moment, the untouchable, lean dark arm had already touched the back of his neck.

Craaack—

The silhouette in the darkness changed, and Jack’s head drooped down limply.

“Arf—”

Jack managed only a faint scream before all went quiet.

The dead silence lasted for several seconds until, in the darkness, the sound of something heavy being dragged gradually arose.

A dark shadow on the floor was slowly pulled behind the wallpaper.

In the bedroom, Beth suddenly furrowed her brow in her sleep.

She seemed to have had a nightmare and groggily lifted her head, calling out to the doorway, “Jack?”

The bed beside her was still warm; Jack must have left just a little while ago.

“Jack?

Where are you?”

The little girl clumsily got up in the dark, stretching her small hands out in front of her, and stumbled towards the open door.

“Jack, where are you?”

Beth poked her head out, but the pitch-black hallway revealed no light, nor any response.

The hallway was dark, and she was frightened and worried about Jack, looking as though she was about to cry.

She returned to the bedroom, picked up the oil lamp, and hesitantly stepped out, walking forward touching the wall.

Beth, unaware, approached the area of torn wallpaper.

Suddenly, that same dark arm reached out from the tear and grabbed Beth’s slender arm.

The five or six-year-old girl had almost no time to react before the arm pulled her into the wall.

Clang—

The oil lamp fell to the floor, rolled a few times, and flickered out.

All fell silent once more.