Chapter 8, another dead person

As the clock struck 9, a long-haired girl in Studio 206 suddenly realized that she was the only one left in the studio. Although she was satisfied with the painting she was about to complete, the overly silent studio made her feel a sudden sense of fear.

"Come accompany me tonight, come accompany me tonight—" The phone suddenly rang, startling her into a scream. For a moment, she hesitated to answer, unable to discern whether the sound was coming from her bag or from the wall.

Because it was a familiar voice and a familiar person, the girl with long hair let out a sigh of relief, her mood improving: "I know, I know, you calling at this time startled me." As she spoke, she hurriedly slung her backpack over her shoulder

It is reported that a woman's blood footprints were found at the scene, but it is unknown whose they are. At that time, the footprints disappeared when they reached the wall. Could she have slipped into this wall, or is she hiding in Studio 206? Is she concealed somewhere within this studio?

The girl with long hair found it not funny at all. She looked out the window, which was pitch black, with no scenery visible, and couldn't help but feel extremely anxious. She quickly shouldered her backpack and said, "Don't curse me, I'm in 206, I'll be out soon. Wait for me."

A paintbrush rose slowly from the pencil case, dipped into the prepared paint on the palette, and began to paint on the blank canvas

Beep—beep—beep

"Hello, hello, what about next door? Have you changed dormitories?" My friend continued to ask on the other end of the phone, "You didn't even tell me about changing dorms, yet you say I'm your best buddy. That's not right, your dorm is next to the restroom, are you kidding me? Hello, hello, are you there? Have you run into any acquaintances?"

The invisible singer has arrived before her

As she looked on, she suddenly realized that it was herself

Tonight you will accompany me—tonight you will accompany me—tonight you will accompany me

What are you afraid of? Have you seen a ghost? You aren't staying in Studio 205, are you?" A friend laughed.

I know you. The long-haired girl's face bore two patches of blood; although her eyes were gone, it seemed as if she could still see. "You are a genius."

It resembles a shadow of a lamp, at times it appears like a human silhouette, and at other times it seems like a wisp of smoke, drifting everywhere

The canvas shook twice, seemingly laughing, while the brush suspended in mid-air deeply dipped into the red paint on the palette and was handed to the girl with long hair

There is no need to hurry, I am right next door

The girl with long hair wanted to run, but she was so frightened that her legs went weak, and she couldn't move an inch. She could only stand there trembling all over, watching as the blank canvas was filled stroke by stroke, until the artwork was completed

"Have you finished painting? Hurry back to the dorm and log on. I'm leading the team today, and we need to compete against the losers from V365. We can't do it without you, the healer. Come quickly!" The voice on the other end of the phone was loud; it was her friend from online gaming, also a student from the Chinese Painting Department at the same school.

Where is it? I didn't hear clearly, the long-haired girl was stunned, her heart tightened in an instant

Compelled by an unseen force, she walked towards the painting, as if a hidden thread were pulling at some part beneath her ribs, or as if her very spirit had been captivated, leading her to stop right in front of the canvas

She suddenly remembered that everyone had agreed to play games together tonight. The character she practiced on m.hetushu.com was a healer, and in a PK between two factions, the healer is extremely important

The phone call was disconnected, but the long-haired girl could not hear it, as a cold voice began to resonate, step by step, coming closer and filling her ears.

Bang!

A girl with long hair has her eyes wide open, yet the corners of her mouth are curved. A dot is drawn on the neck of the portrait, and then the brush is dragged downwards, and further down.

She screamed in fright, opened the door, and ran, but after taking two steps, she stopped in shock, for she had not run into the corridor, but had stepped into another studio, Studio 205

What is going on? Where is the sound coming from? Is it a channel interference? Or is it—

You still think of my stomach; I must say you have a conscience. I will not eat anymore to lose weight. Rest assured, even if I run, I can still make it on time

The canvas seems to have a magnetic pull, with those two eyeballs awkwardly hanging there, looking left and right, as if they are admiring something

She should not stay out so late; a murder occurred next door just a few days ago, and the death was so horrific. However, the school is about to hold a public art exhibition, which is a great opportunity to showcase oneself. She is reluctant to give it up and ends up losing track of time while immersed in her painting. The teaching building is scheduled to turn off the lights at 11:00 PM, so she should leave quickly

It was a portrait, with bold and vibrant colors. The blank face was distorted, lacking features, yet despite this, she felt that the person in the painting was so familiar, no matter what angle she viewed it from, it seemed recognizable.

Looking back, a snow-white wall separated this place from Studio 205. However, for some reason, the more she stared at the wall, the more she felt it was dazzlingly white, firmly capturing her gaze, as if something behind the wall was watching her. Perhaps due to the visual effect, she also sensed a shadow drifting back and forth on the wall.

At the same time, a deep sigh echoed in the darkness

That voice was not that of a friend, but rather a strange, cold voice. It suddenly interjected into the conversation, clear as if it were right beside her, while at the same time, she felt a chill creeping up her back, as if something were blowing against her neck

Art. She extended her hand to gently touch the easel, carefully avoiding the canvas, murmuring, "I never knew I was so beautiful; this is art." She marveled, and then calmly dug out her own eyeballs and pressed them onto the canvas

In the center of the studio, a beam of ghastly green light falls upon an easel. The light possesses a somber hue that seems to freeze the blood, even staining the white canvas. The surrounding air appears to be swirling, shrouded in mist.

With such thoughts, she shivered and quickly scanned her surroundings—easel, still life, herself—there was nothing else. However, she did not notice that a black line was slowly creeping up on her painting, from the upper left to the lower right, seemingly a furious rejection of the artwork.

"It will start in fifteen minutes. If you are late, I will rally everyone in the group to deal with you," my friend said cheerfully. "By the way, have you had dinner?"

The phone rang insistently, and the colorful lights on the device flashed incessantly. She had no choice but to shiver as she glanced at the displayed number, then pressed the answer key

The brush fell to the ground, and a blood hole suddenly appeared on the neck of the girl with long hair, who then collapsed silently.