**Tap! Tap!**
The sound echoed through the murky darkness, rhythmic and persistent, like drops of water falling from a broken faucet. Each tap seemed to pierce through the veil of unconsciousness that had wrapped around Jiang Dao's mind like a suffocating blanket.
*Huh?*
Jiang Dao felt a wetness spreading across his face, warm and sticky, carrying with it the unmistakable metallic tang of blood. The smell invaded his nostrils, sharp and acrid, triggering a primal alarm in his brain that something was terribly, terribly wrong.
Opening his eyes in a daze, the world swam before him in a hazy blur of shadows and dim light. The numbness from the accident still clung to his body like a phantom limb, making every sensation feel distant and surreal. His limbs felt heavy, as if they were made of lead, and his head throbbed with a dull, persistent ache that seemed to pulse in rhythm with his heartbeat.
*Am I actually alive?*
Sitting up slowly, his body protesting with every movement, Jiang Dao was surprised and confused by the strength he felt returning to his limbs. The pain was there, yes, but it was manageable, far less than what he expected from someone who had been in a fatal accident.
*How did I live through that? Is the technology actually that good?*
Modern medicine had made incredible advances, he knew, but surviving what he remembered of that crash seemed almost miraculous. Perhaps he had been in a coma for weeks, months even, and the healing process had worked its magic while he slept.
Pinching his leg experimentally, he felt a sharp stab of pain shoot through his nerves.
"Aw!"
The pain was real, immediate, and strangely reassuring. He was alive, truly alive, and the sensation of being in his own body was gradually returning.
"Hahaha!"
A laugh bubbled up from his chest, relief flooding through him like a warm tide. He had survived. Against all odds, he had made it through the worst experience of his life.
"Mom! Fathe—r..."
The words began to spill from his lips, excitement and joy mixing together as he prepared to call out to his family. Surely he must be in a hospital somewhere, and his father would be nearby, probably dozing in one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs that seemed to be standard issue in every medical facility. His mother would be there too, her eyes red from crying, her hands clasped tightly in prayer.
But his words died in his throat as his brain began to process what his eyes were seeing, the reality of his surroundings slowly filtering through the fog of confusion and relief.
*This! This doesn't look like inside a hospital?*
Looking around with growing alarm, Jiang Dao took in the scene before him. The room was dim and oppressive, with thick spider webs draped across the ceiling like macabre decorations. The walls were stained with moisture and what looked like years of neglect, and the air carried the musty smell of decay and abandonment. Through a small, grimy window, he could see rain falling heavily outside, the droplets striking the glass with the same rhythmic tapping that had awakened him.
*Huh?*
As he shifted his position, trying to get a better look at his surroundings, his fingers encountered something slimy and soft. The texture was weird and as he turned to see what he had touched, his blood ran cold with terror.
Lying beside him was the body of a middle-aged man, his chest torn open in a grotesque display of violence. The wound was fresh, still glistening with blood, and the man's eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling above.
"Ah! Hmm..."
Jiang Dao's hand flew to his mouth, muffling the scream that threatened to tear from his throat. His eyes widened in horror as he scrambled backward, his heart hammering against his ribs like a caged bird desperate to escape. Every instinct screamed at him to run, to get as far away from this nightmare as possible.
He looked around alertly, his body tensed and ready to flee at the first sign of danger. He didn't understand what had happened, but he knew instinctively that he needed to stay low-key. The murderer might still be in the vicinity, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike again.
As for confronting the murderer and avenging the dead? If two of them couldn't resist, now that he was alone, how could he possibly fight back?
The thought was sobering and terrifying. Whatever had done this to the man beside him was clearly dangerous, and Jiang Dao had no weapons, no training, and no idea what he was up against.
That's when he noticed that there were actually four bodies in the room, not just one. A woman in her twenties lay crumpled against the far wall, her dark hair matted with blood, her face frozen in an expression of terror. The other two were men around the same age, both wearing the same type of outdoor gear that seemed designed for exploration.
All of them, including Jiang Dao, had flashlights and other equipment scattered around them—rope, cameras, notebooks, and various tools that looked like they belonged to amateur explorers or urban adventurers.
*Hmm.*
Suddenly, a sharp pain lanced through Jiang Dao's head, so intense that he gasped and clutched his skull with both hands. Images began to flood his mind—memories that weren't his own, experiences that belonged to someone else entirely.
After a while, he finally understood the situation.
The memories were vivid and complete, as if he had lived them himself. All of them had been a like-minded group that had met on the internet, bound together by their shared interest in exploring mysterious places with dark stories and urban legends. They called themselves the "Shadow Seekers," and they had spent months planning their adventures, sharing research, and building friendships through their common passion.
Just last week, they had been planning to explore this very place—an abandoned building with a reputation for strange disappearances and unexplained phenomena. But Jiang Dao had a class to attend, so they had postponed the trip until Sunday, yesterday.
While exploring the building, they had heard a sound coming from one of the rooms—a wet, rhythmic noise that had piqued their curiosity and excitement. All of them had eagerly rushed inside to investigate, their flashlights cutting through the darkness as they searched for the source of the mysterious sound.
But they never came back out.
In the room, the sound of something eating—something large and hungry—was the last thing the original owner of this body had heard before everything went black.
Now, as Jiang Dao sat among the carnage, he realized with growing horror that he was no longer in his own body. Somehow, impossibly, he had been transported into the corpse of one of the victims, given a second chance at life in the most terrifying circumstances imaginable.
The rain continued to fall outside.
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