Several empty liquor bottles lay scattered across the floor. Their labels and alcohol content advertised what could only be described as a deliberate assassination of reason.

A faint, cool-toned light filtered through the curtains, like a Blue Hawaii cocktail without the lemon slice, or like a melting iceberg.

Outside, the intermittent roar of motorcycles echoed from time to time, their modified headlights occasionally piercing the night sky.

An accomplice to the crime was the dance hall down the street. To attract customers, it had placed two massive speakers at the corner and blasted outdated English songs day and night.

A box of sleeping pills sat on the bedside table, two-thirds empty.

The trash can in the corner overflowed with empty cigarette packs, while the ashtray was crammed with cigarette butts of varying lengths, damp and crumpled together.

Another sleepless night for Jiang Yu.

The speakers, the motorcycles, and the nausea brought on by excessive drinking—any one of them alone could drive a person to the brink of a nervous breakdown.

Unable to sleep no matter how much he tossed and turned, Jiang Yu stared at the easel facing his bed.

Several unfinished oil paintings, their base colors not yet fully applied, were draped in white cloth.

Some uninvited rat had gnawed the easel's legs full of pits before vanishing without a trace.

Amid the rumble of engines, he cursed loudly.

Then he irritably rolled over and clamped a pillow over the ears that had endured more than four hours of torture.

Among all the noise, the strange sound stood out with startling clarity.

Jiang Yu heard the lock rattle.

In that instant, the alcohol in his system seemed to retreat straight back into his chest.

His bleary eyes snapped open. He threw off the blanket and landed on the floor.

Living on this street, after all, meant that death and disappearances were practically everyday occurrences.

Jiang Yu grabbed the nearly rusted golf club beside his bed and kicked away a tattered rug that tangled around his toes.

Barefoot, he moved cautiously across the frayed carpet.

Someone outside wasn't unusual.

In fact, there was a mentally ill tenant in this very building who liked wandering around in the middle of the night and banging on people's doors. Usually, after a few knocks, the man would leave.

But this time was different.

The person outside seemed purposeful. Judging from the frequency with which the lock was being tested and turned, whoever it was had come prepared and with a purpose.

Jiang Yu immediately pulled out his phone from his pajama pocket, only to discover that it wouldn't power on no matter what he did.

Holding back a curse, he slammed the metal casing against his palm in frustration.

The startup screen flickered weakly a few times before buzzing briefly and plunging back into darkness.

Only then did Jiang Yu remember.

Two weeks ago, someone had thrown his phone into a fish tank and ruined it.

Left with no choice, he dragged over the shoe rack by the entrance and shoved it against the door before turning to look for the landline.

The moment he took his first step toward the living room—

Click.

The lock bolt moved.

Goosebumps erupted across his back. His expression changed instantly.

Before he could react, the door burst open from the outside.

The doorstop was knocked out of place. Shoes rained down from the rack, and the steel pipe at the bottom was snapped clean in half by the impact.

A nearby stool crashed to the floor, forming a tangible obstacle, as though trying to buy its owner a chance.

The intruder merely lifted a foot lazily.

White sneakers stepped over the overturned chair and invaded the narrow, cramped apartment.

Before Jiang Yu could even catch his breath, a club came down on his head.

The blow left him dizzy and seeing stars, collapsing helplessly at the stranger's feet.

The back of his head struck the carpet lightly. A sharp sting filled his nose, and something warm and wet trickled into his mouth.

The door swung mostly shut behind those white sneakers.

A long-fingered hand adorned with gemstone rings on every finger waved before his eyes.

"Good evening. I'm here, Uncle. Hey—hey? You still alive?"

A very young voice.

The earring dangling from the stranger's ear looked like some exquisite violet gemstone. Rich and lustrous, it flashed painfully bright in Jiang Yu's eyes.

The face remained blurry, but the line of the jaw was remarkably delicate.

What is this person? A serial killer? Some mentally unstable criminal?

Jiang Yu couldn't make sense of it.

The voice belonged to little more than a child.

A tattoo on the youth's throat formed a sinister image, reminiscent of Leviathan from the Book of Job.

The intruder wore a faint smile and crouched down.

He checked Jiang Yu's breathing.

"Looks like you're still alive. That's great. I was worried I'd misjudge my strength and accidentally kill you, Uncle."

He was smiling.

Smiling very happily.

Yet his words sent a chill down the spine.

Jiang Yu tried to move, but the strike had hit a critical spot.

Though it hadn't killed him outright, the calculated attack had robbed him of control over his body. He could do nothing but lie there.

This person had done it deliberately.

He knew exactly how to keep someone conscious, and exactly how the human body responded to pain.

Humming softly, the intruder grabbed Jiang Yu by the collar and dragged him from the living room into the bedroom.

"Wow—Uncle, seriously, your place is filthy."

The attacker kicked aside empty liquor bottles without the slightest concern for anyone else's feelings.

"Bedroom's this way, right? Mm, so many cigarette butts. The laundry in the bathroom hasn't even been washed. How about this—we'll talk in the bedroom. I want to sit on the bed!"

Jiang Yu's stomach slammed into the corner of a table.

The pain sharpened his mind, and he struggled weakly against the dragging.

It was useless.

Like an antelope moments away from having its throat torn out, he was hauled toward the predator's den.

After pushing open the bedroom door, the stranger casually tossed him into a corner.

The intruder wandered over to the unfinished paintings and removed the white cloths one by one.

In the dim light filtering through the curtains, Jiang Yu finally saw him clearly.

This boy—this clearly unstable teenager—was breathtakingly attractive.

His hair was a pale platinum blond. His features carried unmistakably European characteristics, while his eyes were a striking indigo blue.

Yet his build wasn't slender as expected.

The tight clothing revealed powerful, athletic lines beneath.

His body-fat percentage was likely in the single digits. The cropped leather jacket and avant-garde metal accessories failed to conceal the primal wildness radiating from him.

He was the kind of person who could seize someone's attention at a single glance and never let it go.

The pale-skinned youth studied the paintings and laughed.

"These are all garbage. Uncle, do people your age need cigarettes and alcohol just to feel something again? I'm curious. Before this stuff turns your body into Swiss cheese, does it really give you this so-called 'inspiration'?"

Hands clasped behind his back, he strolled about as lightly as though he owned the place.

Jiang Yu dared not answer.

He lowered his head and drew a deep breath.

The moment the boy turned his back to inspect another painting, Jiang Yu exploded into action.

He grabbed the ashtray beside the bed and hurled it with all his strength, ignoring the risk of tearing open his injuries.

The ashtray never completed its arc.

The youth caught it without even turning around.

"Uncle, did I tell you?"

"Don't interrupt me when I'm talking."

He wasn't angry.

His tone remained calm, as though everything were unfolding exactly as expected.

The boy idly toyed with the filthy ashtray.

After thinking for a while, he turned back toward Jiang Yu, still wearing that lazy smile.

This time, however, there was intent behind it.

Holding the ashtray, he approached with a rhythm both cheerful and terrifying.

Jiang Yu struggled to rise.

Every slight movement sent fresh blood pouring from his nose.

In a moment of distraction caused by pain, the youth swiftly stepped on his pant leg.

Jiang Yu crashed face-first into the carpet.

A cry escaped him.

His head throbbed ever harder. No matter how many times he tried to push himself up, he couldn't.

Every insult he wanted to spit out stuck in his throat.

The indigo eyes gazed down at him gently.

"Uncle, why are you running? Aren't we having fun talking?"

The youth grabbed his hair from behind, tugging hard enough to nearly rip it out by the roots.

"Relax. I know you want to run away right now. But where could you possibly go? The moment you step outside that door, you're dead."

Forced to raise his head, Jiang Yu's eyes met the boy's.

For a brief moment, it felt as though sparks crackled in the silence between them.

The youth smiled first.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Isn't my face your favorite? ...Ah, right, right. I forgot. I still have work to do. First, let's teach you some manners."

The boy laughed to himself.

Soon bored with tormenting Jiang Yu's scalp, he loosened his grip and seized Jiang Yu's chin instead.

"First, you need to learn obedience. Uncle, I'm not exactly gentle, so you'd better endure it."

He scooped up a handful of cigarette butts and shoved them deep into Jiang Yu's throat.

"There, that's more like it. Now, let me think about what comes next."

What is he doing? What the hell is this brat talking about?

Jiang Yu's eyes widened.

He struggled violently against the grip, his throat desperately trying to reject the foreign objects, but he couldn't break free.

"Once your mouth becomes quiet, the work can continue."

The youth let go and patiently waited for him to spit everything out.

Then he grabbed Jiang Yu's weak arm and threw him onto the bed.

Before Jiang Yu could react, the boy vaulted after him and sat directly on his stomach.

Picking up the ashtray, the youth's pupils narrowed sharply.

As though the moment he found the right spot, he couldn't wait to bring it down.

The boy wasn't trying to kill him.

By the second strike, Jiang Yu finally realized that.

Given the youth's earlier display of ability, he could easily have killed him with the first blow.

So why?

What did he want?

Jiang Yu groaned and tried to push him away, only to discover that the teenager's body felt as solid as iron.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't budge him.

Only after Jiang Yu's forehead split open and blood blurred his vision did the youth finally stop, satisfied.

"Don't worry. I didn't hit anything vital. Though, Uncle, the skin on your forehead will probably need stitches."

A finger traced the edge of the wound.

Then, with slow, bizarre curiosity, the youth peeled away a flap of partially detached skin.

"Hm. I'm actually pretty good at this. It probably won't leave a scar."

"What the fuck do you want from me?!"

Blood filled Jiang Yu's mouth as he glared at the boy.

The youth smiled pleasantly.

"Don't be angry, Uncle. I told you—this is work. Though for now, it'll make you wish you were dead."

Before Jiang Yu could question him further, the youth seized his wrist.

Every injury he had sustained suddenly seemed to flare up at once.

Jiang Yu tried to scream for help.

His mouth opened repeatedly, but no sound emerged.

Cold sweat burst from his forehead.

Stop.

Stop.

He wanted to grab the boy's ear and force him to stop.

Instead, what answered was not his voice—

—but the sickening sound of both arms being dislocated.

Pain sharper than an electric shock shot through him.

His entire body jerked upward.

Amid Jiang Yu's agonized curses, the youth chuckled softly.

He removed his cropped leather jacket and stripped off the tight gray tank top beneath.

Powerful thighs pinned Jiang Yu's waist as he revealed a body with broad shoulders and a narrow waist—perfect enough to stir desire, yet as lean and dangerous as a predator.

Every contour, every inch of skin seemed meticulously sculpted.

Cruel.

Yet magnificent.

"Haven't you realized it yet, Uncle? Everything you create—whether people or objects—has no soul."

His low voice sounded like a spell whispered beside Jiang Yu's ear.

"So I'm going to give you inspiration. You'll break free from exhaustion and the shackles of the mundane. You can..."

Warm fingertips traced circles around Jiang Yu's swollen Adam's apple.

"...paint my body."

"But remember one thing. On Saturday, mail it to an address in District 23. If you do, I'll reward you properly."

This time, the youth's fingers touched Jiang Yu's lips.

"...Time's almost up. Let's finish the final step of the job together."

"Good night, Uncle."

Then the ashtray came crashing down onto the blood-soaked head once more.