After hearing that, my mom let out a sigh of relief.
"Ivy, don't be scared. He can't get in. We put door guardians on the front gate, and there are protective talismans on the yard wall. He can't come in—he's just trying to scare you into opening the door. Remember, no matter what, don't open it."
"Really?"
"Really. Just hang in there. Hide in your room and don't come out. Your dad and I have been pushing Alex's parents. We even paid extra to have him cremated early. They're wheeling him in right now!"
She was afraid I wouldn't believe her, so she started a video call. On screen, staff were dismantling the memorial setup, rolling a gurney over to take Alex's body to the crematorium.
They did the basic mourning rites, then lifted the coffin onto the gurney. But the moment they lifted it, every single one of them froze, staring at each other in horror.
After a beat of shock, they threw open the coffin lid. When they reached inside and felt around, their faces went white.
"Where's the deceased? Where's the body?"
That one sentence sent the room into chaos. My mom jogged over with her phone raised, asking what happened.
The staff looked like they'd seen a ghost. Their voices came out strangled.
"The coffin's empty. The body's gone."
Everyone went still—then another staffer let out a cry.
"There's a trail of wet footprints here. Looks like something crawled out of the coffin. The body walked off on its own?!"
In an instant, the whole group scattered, fleeing outside. And if they were terrified, I was worse—even through the phone screen, I felt my blood turn to ice.
Then the video cut out again. Magnetic interference. No matter how many times I called back, it wouldn't connect. My mom could only send me a panicked voice message.
"Ivy, don't be afraid. Mom and Dad are coming back right now. Whatever you do, don't open the door!"
The moment I heard it, all hope drained out of me. There was a kind of fear like death itself standing at my doorstep.
So the thing outside was Alex's corpse?
Right then, a dull thud came from the yard—like someone landing after climbing over the wall.
A few seconds later, the inner door, which had been left ajar, creaked open. Footsteps approached. They stopped right outside my bedroom.
Cold seeped through the crack, straight into my room. Alex didn't knock, but I could feel him standing there, separated from me by nothing but a thin door.
I was paralyzed with terror. I could only clamp a hand over my mouth, holding my breath, staring at the door.
It didn't move. But water began trickling in from underneath—slow, steady. Outside, I heard dripping, like it was falling off his body. And that smell—damp earth, mud, rot.
Combined with how he died, the fear hit me in waves, each one crashing harder than the last, until I could barely breathe.
He didn't give me a chance to recover. Instead, he laughed—a wet, triumphant sound that made my skin crawl.
"Hahaha… Ivy, I got in. I came to apologize, okay? Don't be mad anymore. If you want to see me, I'll let you. As long as you're not angry. As long as you don't hate me."
"Ivy, open the door. I'm right here."
Thud thud thud—
The knocking was wet, heavy. Each knock landed like a death sentence, pounding straight into my skull. My ears rang. My head spun. I thought I might pass out.
The fear was so intense I started dry-heaving. The sound slipped out before I could stop it—and he heard.
He got excited. The knocking came faster, more eager.
"I heard you. Open the door, Ivy. I'm right outside. Don't you want to see me? Open the door."
My parents were already racing back. They kept sending messages to comfort me, reminding me over and over.
