This is a bizarre rule, isn't it? It's supposed to grant me many children and good fortune

Meanwhile, in the restroom at the other end of the corridor.

Park Tae-rang and Vassim walked in one after the other. The three candles on the candlestick were burning steadily, their dim yellow light enveloping the entire cramped space.

Park Tae-rang lifted the curtain and slipped into the shower room, glancing back at Vassim outside—the curtain blocked his view.

He quickly pulled an action camera out of his pocket and neatly secured it to the copper water pipe inside the shower stall with an elastic strap.

The camera was tilted a few degrees, precisely aimed at the dark drainage hole in the center of the groove in the ground.

If they happen to capture something... it'll generate a massive amount of online traffic!

Vassim stood by the candlestick, took a cigarette from his pocket, put it in his mouth, lit it by the candlelight, and took a deep drag.

A bluish-white mist slowly wafted from his nostrils, drifting away in the dim light.

Park Tae-rang quickly took off his clothes, casually draped them over the stone wall of the fence, and then pulled down the hanging rope.

"Splash—"

A stream of cold water poured out of the beast's mouth, drenching its head.

Park Tae-rang jolted awake, the muscles in his neck taut and clearly defined.

"Ouch—it's so cold!"

He quickened his pace, scrubbing his body vigorously with both hands, trying to generate some warmth through physical activity.

The rules required that the shower time be no less than five minutes, so he silently started counting down the seconds in his mind.

About two minutes into the wash, he caught a glimpse of the action camera screen next to him out of the corner of his eye, and the image flickered twice.

He quickly focused his gaze and saw that the screen was flickering wildly, as if it had encountered strong signal interference.

The next moment—

"Smack."

It's completely black.

"Damn it..."

Park Tae-rang cursed under his breath, then subconsciously looked down, his gaze falling on the center of the groove beneath his feet.

What's in the gaps of the cast iron grating, in the dark, gaping drain holes?

His heart pounded, and a voice in his head cried out, "Stop looking!" But another, more primal impulse gripped him.

Curiosity, like a fishing line, gradually pulled his gaze downwards.

He squinted, bent down, and moved closer.

Then he saw it.

Beneath the grille, deep in the shadows, lies an eye.

The pupil of that eye was a cloudy grayish-white, and the edge of the iris was covered with spiderweb-like blood vessels.

It stared intently at Park Tae-rang's face, its eyes twitching slightly, as if something was adjusting its angle below the hole to see him more clearly.

Park Tae-rang's scalp tingled and felt a sudden, intense buzzing.

He let out a short, sharp scream, jerked backward, and slammed his back against the rough stone wall.

He staggered and turned to rush out of the shower room—

"go back."

A strong hand pressed down on his shoulder, pushing him back down into the water.

Park Tae-rang trembled uncontrollably, his breathing was heavy like a bellows, and his voice was clearly choked with sobs.

"Wasimgo... there's an eye in the drain... it... it's looking at me..."

"Ignore it, keep flushing." Wasim's tone was calm to the point of being indifferent. "If it could climb out, it would have done so already. Since it's not moving, it means it can only stay inside."

Park Tae-rang took a deep breath and put his head back under the water.

Cold water was splashed on his scalp and cheeks. He kept his eyes tightly closed, his lips trembling as he silently counted the seconds.

Then he felt it.

Something slowly covered the cool skin on the inside of my ankle.

The texture was cold, sticky, and damp, like some kind of soft tissue that had been soaking in ice water for a long time.

Park Tae-rang froze.

"Wa, Vassimgo..."

His voice was so thin it sounded like his throat was being squeezed, and he was trembling so much he could barely form sentences.

"Oops, it feels like a hand... grabbed my ankle..."

There was a moment of silence outside the curtain.

Immediately afterwards, Vassim tore off the candlestick with one hand and abruptly lifted the curtain with the other.

The candle was held high, its dim light streaming directly into the shower room, illuminating the recessed floor and the cast iron grille clearly.

That hand—

The pale, wrinkled hand with slender fingers recoiled abruptly the moment the candlelight shone in, as swiftly as a startled snake, disappearing into the darkness of the drain in the blink of an eye.

Wasim squinted, and sure enough, just as he had thought—that thing was afraid of direct candlelight.

He didn't back out, but instead stepped directly into the shower room with the candlestick in his hand and stood firmly in place.

"Don't stop, keep washing."

He moved the candlestick closer to Park Tae-rang's feet.

"It gets scared when there's candlelight. You go ahead and wash, I'll watch."

No sooner had Vassim finished speaking than a gust of cold wind suddenly rushed out from deep within the drainpipe, carrying a heavy, fishy stench, as if something in the darkness of the pipe had exhaled a sudden breath.

The flame on the candlestick tilted violently to one side, almost going out completely—

Wasim's pupils contracted sharply, and almost at the same moment, his left hand had already pulled out the folding umbrella that Lin Feng had given him, and his thumb pushed the clasp.

With a "whoosh," the umbrella unfolded and rested steadily above the drain hole.

The candle flame trembled violently twice, jumped, and then stood upright again.

As the water gurgled, Park Tae-rang finished counting down the five minutes in his mind.

He quickly pulled down the rope, and the sound of water stopped abruptly.

He immediately reached out and grabbed the gray coarse towel that had been placed on the wall earlier, hurriedly wiping the water stains off his body, and then quickly put on his clothes.

After getting dressed, Park Tae-rang went to get the action camera with the black screen.

Before my fingertips could even touch it, my wrist was twisted.

Wasim shoved the candlestick into his arms, and Park Tae-rang caught it instinctively, the flame flickering in front of his chest.

Wasim stepped aside, quickly pulled the camera off the strap, and neatly stuffed it into his pocket.

"This camera would be a disaster if it stayed with you; let me keep it safe for you."

Park Tae-rang opened his mouth, but ultimately didn't say anything in defense.

He reached up and grabbed a handful of his wet hair, saying in a muffled voice, "...Okay."

The two walked out of the restroom one after the other and returned along the corridor.

When the door to room 305 was opened, the four people inside had already laid out their sleeping bags and down jackets.

Lin Feng was sitting on the edge of the bed, his gaze lingering on Park Tae-rang's face for a moment—

His face was completely drained of color, his lips were trembling slightly, and he looked as if he had just been pulled out of an ice cellar.

"Are you done washing?" Lin Feng asked.

Park Tae-rang nodded without saying a word and walked straight to his bed and sat down.

He bent down, rolled up the left leg of his trousers, and looked down to examine his ankle.

On the skin of his left ankle, there was a dark blue five-finger print.

The five fingers are clearly defined, and the palm is slightly purplish, as if it was bruised after being gripped with great force.

The skin feels cool to the touch, and—

He tentatively pressed it lightly with his finger, and a sharp pain shot out from between his bones, making him hiss and gasp.