The sky outside the window was brighter again, and one-third of the corridor was stained with twilight. Lumian leaned against the wall that was still shrouded in darkness, with his hands in his pockets and his right foot back. He stared expressionlessly at Mrs. Michelle who was hanging from the window frame, watched her mouth gradually open, her expression became painful, and her bent legs did not let go until she died.

The corpse swayed slightly in the morning light.

At 6:35 in the morning, in Apartment 601, No. 3 Whitecoat Street.