Chapter 55: Chapter Fifty-Four: The Drowning Man

Li Si raised the lantern to illuminate the ceiling above, finding no water-stained wood and no droplets falling.

The air was saturated with even, penetrating moisture, so thick it made him feel as if he stood at the seaside at dusk, breathing in the vapor rising from an endless expanse of water, enveloping all directions—not bitterly cold, but carrying an inescapable grandeur.

And this was merely a small room, utterly out of place in Hegang, where several days of clear weather had prevailed.

“You’re telling me someone who supposedly stayed in this room all day simply vanished?” Li Si dragged the landlord inside, pressing the lantern nearly against the window, “What does this mean?”

His tone carried anger meant to mask panic—the locked doors and windows, the unnaturally damp room—generating a subconscious terror: the rejection of the incomprehensible, the refusal to accept supernatural events defying logic.

He instinctively wanted to flee this strange room, to escape this affair and return to his dull, uneventful life—but this very development answered his question: regarding Bai Guang, there must be a deeper, more terrifying connection, and he could not accept that the only person who had uncovered the truth had disappeared.

Moreover, he was already entangled in it; failing to uncover the truth would leave him unable to sleep or eat.

“This can’t be…” the landlord whispered, whether terrified by the bizarre disappearance or pressured by Li Si’s demeanor, it was unclear.

Li Si walked a full circle around the room’s floor; the wooden planks were solid and secure, none loose or shifted. “Could the door or window have been bolted from the outside?”

Upon reflection, it wasn’t impossible—if one had a sufficiently thin, rigid tool and the right technique, it might be done. He removed the wooden latch from inside the window and examined it under the lantern’s light.

It was a hard, straight wooden bar, at least two fingers wide, made of quality timber, slightly heavy in hand. It could be pried open from the crack with something slender, but reinserting it from outside was impossible.

The landlord did not answer his question but retreated to the doorway. “Mr. Li Si, perhaps we should go to the church and find a priest who can help.”

“No, no.” Before Li Si could speak, Lu Xiusi rejected the suggestion outright. He set down the damp blanket, his tone firm. “You don’t want your inn gaining a ghost story, do you?”

“Yes, please go downstairs first. We’ll handle this ourselves.” Li Si agreed, patting his pocket where coins clinked. “Oh, by the way, we’ll settle the latch compensation later.”

“No need.” The landlord fled the room like a startled animal, leaving behind a rapid trail of footsteps.

Lu Xiusi picked up the blanket and rubbed it carefully between his palms, confirming Li Si’s impression. “It’s wet. Why?”

“I don’t understand either. You spent more time with Kraft—haven’t you noticed anything?”

Li Si walked to the door, glanced toward Zhang Wang, confirmed no one else was in the corridor, then shut it. The difference in humidity across the threshold was stark: water had “invaded” this room, sharply dividing it from the outside.

Inside was an unnaturally damp seaside; outside, normal dry air. If Kraft was conducting some experiment, Li Si found no apparatus at all—it resembled a ghost story more than anything else.

In Hegang, a coastal town, such tales never lacked for listeners among dockworkers and sailors: gaunt creatures crawling from the sea at midnight, damp trails dragging behind them. Li Si had heard enough in taverns to understand why the landlord wanted a priest.

He pushed open the window; below lay a pitch-black alley, the lantern’s light unable to reach the ground.

“If someone took Kraft—or if he left without being seen—he must have used the window.” Lu Xiusi discarded the absurd imaginings and stood beside Li Si, looking down. “Why not go check for footprints?”

“But how could someone bolt the latch from outside?”

“No need to figure that out yet. Assume there’s a method we haven’t thought of. Let’s go down first.” Lu Xiusi’s approach was pragmatic: no need for rigid logic. Guess the outcome, then work backward—typical student thinking for passing exams.

“Makes sense.” Staying here wouldn’t yield answers. Li Si agreed.

They went downstairs. Li Si insisted the landlord pay full compensation for the latch—even added a bit extra. To Lu Xiusi, the sum could have bought a whole new door.

“If we find footprints, do we follow them? The lantern oil seems low.” At the alley’s mouth, Lu Xiusi shook the lantern; the flame had shrunk considerably since they left.

“We’ll decide when we find them.” Li Si stepped into the alley first, holding little hope.

Hegang was not wealthy enough to pave every such narrow path with stone. In these most complex parts of the town’s infrastructure, earth dominated the surface, with fragments of gravel and sand added by nearby residents’ whims.

The alley behind the inn saw little traffic; the landlord had no time to improve the cramped, narrow path. Discarded debris made the place rarely visited.

Soil deprived of sunlight mixed with rotting refuse, forming a soft, crumbling texture. Anyone who couldn’t fly would inevitably leave footprints here.

Yet finding such traces at night was no simple task. The dim light forced them to bend low, inspecting the ground, each step fraught with fear they’d missed something hidden in the shadows.

The twenty-odd steps took them several minutes, circling to the spot directly beneath the window.

“See anything?” Lu Xiusi gripped his waist, his spine cracking with disuse. Behind him, he could only see Li Si’s footprints.

“I realize I need to wash my shoes after this.” Li Si carefully lifted his foot, stepped back two paces, and yielded the spot to Lu Xiusi. “You go first. My eyes are tired—I’m afraid I’ll miss something.”

For finding footprints, Li Si had already given up hope. If none appeared beneath the window, none would appear elsewhere.

They switched positions, Lu Xiusi leading.

Lu Xiusi remained focused, sweeping the lantern’s light over every corner, searching for traces. In the dim glow, his concentration was absolute.

He rounded a pile of debris and turned—suddenly, a pale face appeared before his eyes.

Skin drained of color, as if its life-sustaining fluids had been siphoned away; even his lips were pale blue-white.

“Ah!”

Heightened focus, limited vision—this face delivered a violent shock. The indeterminate state between life and death amplified fear of human-like forms, plunging him into irrational, extreme terror.

Lu Xiusi collapsed onto the ground, scrambling backward on hands and feet; the lantern rolled away and went dark.

“What happened?” Li Si gripped his shoulder; his voice and pressure calmed Lu Xiusi’s panic.

“There—face…” Lu Xiusi, still shaken, pointed toward the edge of the debris pile. From this angle, nothing behind was visible—hence the sudden terror when the face appeared.

Lu Xiusi had seen corpses before. But in this environment, even a loud shout could kill. To encounter a face unannounced was too terrifying.

Li Si helped Lu Xiusi up, pushed him behind, shielded him with one arm, and raised the lantern as he circled the debris pile. Behind him, Lu Xiusi watched, tense.

“Kraft?!”

In the light, Li Si’s face twisted as if he’d witnessed the impossible.

“What?” Hearing the name, Lu Xiusi cast aside fear and rushed forward to look.

Fully exposed to the light was Kraft’s signature golden hair. His familiar face, rendered alien and horrifying by extreme pallor, bore no trace of his usual vitality.

Had it not been for the hair and the longsword at his waist, he might have been mistaken for a stranger resembling Kraft.

Li Si set down the lantern and pressed his fingers beneath Kraft’s nose. A faint breath confirmed life still lingered within this body caught between life and death.

“He’s alive. We need to get him out.” He slid one arm under Kraft’s armpit; Lu Xiusi hurried to lift the other side.

“Wet?”

A cold, damp chill seeped through their touch. Kraft seemed pulled straight from the sea, his clothes soaked through.

Grasping Kraft’s wrist, Li Si felt icy cold. He’d felt such temperatures only on a few patients—those who’d been immersed too long in ice water, or drowned, their bodies losing heat, life ebbing with it.

“Hurry. We must take him somewhere warm.”

…

…

Kraft was laid on the floor of the inn’s front hall, closest to the stove. Visible white mist rose from his clothes—no one could fathom how much water he held inside.

Lu Xiusi pulled him slightly away, pressed his fingers to Kraft’s neck, counted silently, then released. “Good. Pulse is steady. Body temperature is rising.”

“But I have a question: what is this?”

His fingertips retained a white substance, scraped from Kraft’s body. Even the dried parts of his clothing felt slightly rough, yielding powder when rubbed.

Li Si and the landlord crouched beside them, mimicking Lu Xiusi’s gesture. The powder consisted of tiny crystals; the larger ones glinted near the stove.

Before anyone could stop him, the tavern landlord stuck a finger in his mouth and licked it.

“Pah—salt?” He spat to the side. The bitter, salty taste wasn’t table salt, but seawater dried directly from tidal pools on the beach.

But where in the world had seawater come from to drench someone in the alley behind the inn? The landlord doubted his own taste and reached to pinch more.

A cold hand blocked him. Without warning, Kraft opened his eyes—gazing with a look none of them had ever seen before.