Chapter 2

The police arrived quickly.

Two uniformed officers followed the forensics team through my door while I was still trembling all over.

I nearly dropped the glasses when I tried to hand them water.

I told them everything from start to finish.

From the mysteriously disappearing fried egg at breakfast months ago, to the lipstick stains that suddenly appeared on my freshly washed white shirt collar.

Then to last night's incident. Tears streamed down my face as I spoke.

The forensics team, wearing white gloves, examined the entire place.

The doors and windows were intact. The lock showed no signs of tampering.

The security bars I'd installed last month were welded tight, without even a gap large enough for a hand to squeeze through.

The forensics team swept the entire house with their equipment. No bugs, no hidden cameras.

Not even a hidden compartment to hide someone.

"We'll go check the building's surveillance footage."

One of the officers, named Brown, patted my shoulder reassuringly.

"Don't panic just yet."

McMenaman and I followed them to the property management security room.

With the police present, we fast-forwarded through all the surveillance footage from yesterday afternoon when I left to this morning when I returned.

The footage clearly showed that at 5:20 yesterday afternoon, I walked out of the building entrance wearing a white T-shirt and jeans, carrying a canvas bag.

I never returned after that.

At 11:07 PM, McMenaman entered the building. He didn't leave until 8:10 AM to buy breakfast.

During that time, except for delivery people and food couriers stopping on the floor, no strangers had entered or exited my floor.

McMenaman's face lost all color. He gripped the edge of the security desk, his voice shaking:

"That's impossible... then who was with me last night?"

"Her voice, her body—everything was exactly like Sean. I really didn't mistake it. Sean, you..."

"Is now really the time for this?"

I cut him off, my nails digging into my palms until they bled, then turned to the officer.

"Officer, I've suspected someone was in my home before."

"Actually, I've felt something was off for a while."

"Sometimes I'd pour water in the morning before leaving, and when I came home at night, the glass would be moved a few centimeters."

"A sandwich I made and left on the dining table—I'd turn around to get milk, and come back to find half of it missing."

"Clean white T-shirts I'd washed and hung in the closet would have yellow stains on the collar before I even wore them, like someone had worn them and gotten foundation on them."

"And last week, the keys I'd left on the shoe cabinet by the entrance—I clearly remembered putting them there, but when I got home from work, they were on the dining table. I thought I'd misremembered at the time, but now it's obvious I didn't."

After listening, Officer Brown brought the forensics team back to my place.

They searched inside and out for over an hour, even removing some ceiling panels to check, tapping on the utility shaft walls. Still nothing.

Finally, Officer Brown sighed and left me his contact information:

"We'll go back and review the past three months of surveillance footage. If you notice anything unusual, call me immediately."

"It's also possible you've been under too much work stress lately and your memory is playing tricks on you. If you're really worried, you might want to get checked out at a hospital. You should probably avoid staying here for now."

After the police left, only McMenaman and I remained in the house. The atmosphere was so oppressive I could barely breathe.

We sat on the sofa. Neither of us spoke first.

Only the sound of our heavy breathing.

After a long while, I got up to pack my suitcase.

McMenaman hesitated, then came over to help me pack:

"You're right, we can't stay here. Let's go to a hotel first."

At the hotel, after checking in, McMenaman immediately pulled out his phone to call a security camera company:

"I need you to send someone over tomorrow morning to install cameras with storage cards in my home. Cover every blind spot. Money is no object!"

After hanging up, he came over to hold me, his hands still shaking:

"Don't be scared. I refuse to believe we can't catch whoever's playing these tricks."

I leaned into him, but there was no warmth in my heart.

I didn't tell him that half a month ago, I'd secretly hidden a small camera in the air conditioning vent.

It went dark the very next day.

I thought it was a quality issue and changed it out three times.

Each one mysteriously broke after a few days of use, never capturing anything.

Would it be the same outcome this time?