I Became the Protagonist of a Crime Novel Chapter 9

This time, about an hour passed before rustling sounds came from outside the door.

In the surveillance footage, the property manager dragged a tall man to my doorstep.

The man showed no signs of life, blood pooling on the floor.

It seemed tonight's second victim had appeared.

The message notification sounded again.

Boyfriend Ethan: "Lily, what were you doing just now? Why did that property manager say in the chat that you're a ghost who killed the 401 resident and plans to kill everyone next?"

I looked at both resident group chats. No one was talking. What trick was he trying to pull now? Deceive me?

Ethan directly sent me a screen recording.

It turned out that killer had secretly created another residents' group chat behind my back.

He first posted a screenshot in the group—a notice from the property management announcing a new manager for our building. He claimed Jack had resigned, and all this was just an "icebreaker" prank they were playing. He vividly fabricated a story about encountering a ghost at my place, saying I was a female ghost who had come to claim lives.

He probably saw that a frontal assault wouldn't work, so he decided to throw mud at me first.

At first, people in the chat didn't believe it, thinking it was too far-fetched.

Until the killer posted a voice message in the group. It was Jack's voice:

"Dear residents, what just happened was a prank between the new property manager and me. If we scared any of you, we sincerely apologize. You can fully trust the new property manager. I'm sure he'll do better than I did.

Also, resident 601 has always been mysterious and is indeed suspicious.

To eliminate this unstable factor and give everyone a safe and peaceful living environment, I suggest you work together with the new property manager to investigate. Never act alone!"

Then the killer, disguised as the new property manager, analyzed the current situation point by point. Only then did everyone start to let their guard down and unanimously agreed with Jack's suggestion:

202: "I choose to trust the property manager. After all, everything today has been too strange."

302: "Me too. I'm alone at home and very scared. Having more people around would make me feel safer."

Only one person objected:

401: "Ghosts? We've all had nine years of compulsory education. You believe this? I don't buy it. I'll go out first to scout. If I successfully escape, I'll call the police for everyone."

This time, no one dared to echo him. Perhaps many were thinking the same thing but just didn't want to be the first to take the risk.

After 401 posted this message, he never appeared again. After thirty minutes of silence:

501: "@401, how's your situation?"

What came back was a photo from the property manager:

401 was dead in front of my door, throat slit.

PropertyManager: "Everyone, resident 401 has been killed by 601. I witnessed the entire process. We must unite. We can't let anyone else lose their life needlessly!"

202: "I agree. Come find me first!"

501: "I agree too."

The screen recording ended there.

Boyfriend Ethan: "Lily, the situation is getting very strange now. I saw that young property manager get killed with my own eyes. How could it be a prank? And 401 must have been killed by the psycho too."

Boyfriend Ethan: "The psycho has gone to find 202. You have to trust me. Open the door and let me in!"

Me: "Why?"

Boyfriend Ethan: "What do you mean why? I'm coming to protect you. They outnumber you. You're alone and in too much danger. You can't handle them! I can't let anything happen to you!"

Me: "How are you in that chat group? No, more precisely, how do you have resident 302's phone to record the screen?"

Because the green chat bubble name tag said 302.

The other side went silent, continuously showing "typing..." Clearly, he hadn't expected me to observe so carefully and was making up an excuse.

The psycho killer went to find 202 first, so he was probably already dead by now.

Just as I was thinking, new messages popped up in the group chat.

202: "Everyone, I've met up with the property manager. He's a good person. We can trust him."

PropertyManager: "Next, we're going to find @302. Remember to open the door for us."

After a while:

202: "@302, what's going on? Open the door quickly."

202: "Hurry up and open the door! Don't waste everyone's time!"

202: "Are you afraid to open the door because you think I'm ugly? You look down on me, don't you? You despise me for being disabled? You people are so fake. You say nice things, calling me your friend, but actually, you avoid me and treat me like a monster. I'm breaking down the door!"

Then came the faint sound of an axe chopping at a door.

Seeing 202 turn into a rage-monster, I could tell he'd already been killed by the psycho. All the messages were from the killer.

The sounds downstairs suddenly went quiet. The killer must have broken in.

202: "What's going on! Who killed 302?"

501: "Impossible. I was just chatting with him. He said he was coming to my place."

202: "@601, was it you? Did you kill 302?"

501: "Absolutely impossible. I've been watching through the peephole. If she came downstairs, I would have seen her... unless she jumped from the sixth floor."

Me: "@501, I'm not the killer. Both 202 and 302 are dead. You must not open your door. The new property manager is the psycho killer. There's also a ghost in this building..."

I estimated that 302 had died before the property manager created the group chat—killed by Ethan.

501: "There really is a ghost? Don't scare me..."

I put down my phone and sighed. The remaining residents would have to fend for themselves.

Just as I was thinking, a shrill voice suddenly came from outside, making my skin crawl:

"Lily, so you already knew my secret. Is that why you shut me out?"

"Lily, didn't you say that no matter who I was or what I became, you'd never despise me, that I'd always be your favorite boyfriend? That you'd support me forever."

"What? Even you want to betray me..."

"Betraying your boyfriend comes with a price, you know..."

Ethan had stopped pretending. He was half-floating in the air, tongue stretched out long, staring fixedly at my door.

Seeing I was ignoring him, his peripheral vision caught something, and he smiled mysteriously:

"Lily, you'll be crying and begging me to save you."

With that, he vanished.

I understood what he meant. The killer was coming.

I quickly climbed up to the loft and locked the door. Taking out my phone, I used the app to open the living room door.

This time, I would turn passive into active: only by quickly resolving this crisis could I transmigrate back out of this book.

The door was pushed open and then quickly closed.

In the pitch darkness, only a dim yellow light glowed in the bedroom. The killer, holding his axe, tiptoed toward it.

In the loft, I held my breath and monitored his every move through my tablet.

The bedroom had already been carefully set up by me.

The curtains were drawn tight. A realistic inflatable doll was positioned lying on its side, head turned away, blanket pulled up to reveal only part of a wig.

From a distance, it really looked like someone was peacefully lying in bed.

When the killer confidently raised his axe and slowly approached the bed, my fingers rapidly tapped the app.

Following my commands, the heavy door slammed shut with a "bang—" followed by a "click"—the sound of the lock turning was particularly clear in the night.

Got him! I quickly ran out of the loft to admire my victory.

After realizing he'd been tricked, the psycho completely lost it. He frantically pounded the door:

"You dare scheme against me? Damn you."

He used the axe to hack at the door, blow after blow, until the handle broke off and his hands were shaking uncontrollably, but my door remained unmoved.

It was time to add some spice.

The original novel mentioned that the psycho had been locked in a basement by his peers for three days and nights as a child, giving him severe claustrophobia.

So I had specifically sealed the master bedroom window with cement, custom-designing it as a dark room just for him.

I walked to the electrical panel and cut the power to the master bedroom. The last bit of light disappeared, and the room was plunged into complete darkness.

In the video, the psycho's breathing became rapid and disordered. His body trembled uncontrollably.

He went from initial impotent rage to begging:

"Please... let me out... I can't take it anymore..."

The killer's voice was filled with fear and despair, with a hint of crying.

"I know I was wrong. I won't dare do it again... Please, let me leave here..."

His hands frantically clawed at the walls, his nails making harsh sounds against the hard surface, as if this could lessen the terror in his heart.

"I feel so bad... I feel like I'm suffocating... Please, let me go..."

"As long as you let me out, I'll do anything... I swear I'll leave and never hurt anyone again..."

His voice became increasingly shrill, completely devoid of his previous arrogance and cruelty.

Thinking of Jack's youthful, vibrant face, I didn't waver in the slightest:

"Hmph, Jack begged you the same way. Did you show any mercy?

Endure it well. This is the punishment you deserve!"

The psycho curled up in agony, completely losing his capacity to act.