Chapter 6: The Stench (End)

“Rachel… the photos… take them out…”

Shelly’s eyes were unfocused. Like a broken record, he kept repeating similar phrases over and over as he lifted his feet and headed toward the Mayflower Apartments.

The driver didn’t understand what was going on. Seeing that Shelly had suddenly stopped resisting and was now moving toward the building of his own accord, he kindly supported half of Shelly’s body and walked forward with him.

Strapped to his chest, Everly clearly saw the change in Shelly. This trash dad of hers was braver than a mouse—no, less brave than a mouse. He was hesitant in everything he did, forever looking back and second-guessing himself. Just moments ago he’d been scared out of his wits; there was absolutely no way he could conquer his fear in the next second and turn into some great warrior of pure love.

In her previous life, Everly had watched plenty of horror movies. She strongly suspected that Shelly had been influenced by some kind of special force, his mind bewitched. If it were only him, she wouldn’t care if he walked straight to his death! But the problem was that she was still just a baby, deeply bound to this trash dad—if Shelly walked into the tiger’s den, she wouldn’t be spared either!

So she opened her mouth and let out an earth-shattering wail. Her tiny limbs flailed wildly inside the swaddling clothes, kicking and thrashing as hard as she could, hoping to knock some sense back into Shelly.

“Waaah—waaah waaah!”

Shelly was completely unmoved by Everly’s crying and kicking. He had already been thoroughly bewitched by the evil force; his steps toward the apartment were stubborn and resolute, and throughout the entire walk he didn’t spare Everly a single glance.

Instead, it was the taxi driver who, seeing Everly crying her heart out, leaned half his big face over, wiggling his eyebrows as he tried to coax her. “Oh, little baby, don’t cry, don’t cry. We’re almost home…”

Damn it—she really wished she could stop crying so she could grab hold of Shelly and keep him from speeding up their march toward death!

Everly hated the fact that she was too young—so young she couldn’t even control her tongue. No matter how anxious she felt inside, all she could manage were stupid sounds like “ah, ah.”

The short stretch of road soon came to an end.

Looking at the apartment gate so close she could almost touch it, Everly’s heart sank to the bottom of a pit.

“All right, we’ve arrived… This apartment is really creepy. I’m a bit scared of this stuff, so I won’t be bringing you any further. Good luck, buddy—um, and to your little baby too.” The taxi driver planted his feet at the doorway and said goodbye to Shelly.

Shelly didn’t acknowledge him.

He was like a wild beast, starved for days, finally seeing the food he had been craving. His eyes bulged, his jaw clenched, his cheeks flushed with a fanatical red, and his gaze locked dead on the gate ahead. The closer he got, the faster his feet moved—until, in the end, he practically ran into the long-unseen Mayflower Apartments.

It was as if he had smashed through some invisible barrier. The moment he crossed the threshold, the noise, life, and sunlight from outside were cut off, replaced by a deep, dark veil that wrapped father and daughter tightly, leaving them trapped.

“Hoo—!”

Along with it came a wave of intense stench, assaulting their heads.

If the smell outside—the rotting meat—was like fish that had been left to rot for three days, the odor inside the apartment was like countless such fish piled together, decaying, fermenting, compressed, purified… No, not fish! The scent, filled with the breath of death, was more like innumerable human corpses stacked together, birthing a stench of curses and desecration fueled by the resentment and unwillingness of the dead.

Now, that curse seeped in with every breath, through their mouths and noses, ears, eyes… even every pore.

A cold, sinister sensation crawled over Everly’s body. She felt her neck gripped by invisible giant hands, her body chilled, her breathing labored. For a moment, she almost thought she was about to die right there.

Just as the suffocating pressure grew unbearable, a sudden wave of scorching heat radiated from Everly’s chest, driving away the cold that had wrapped around her entire body. Everly felt warmth flood her, and her frozen limbs instantly regained their mobility. Without thinking, she stretched out her tiny hands toward the burning object against her chest—it was the cross her grandfather had left her!

The brass cross felt as if it had just been heated over a fire, glowing with a dark red inner light. Just a touch caused huge blisters to form on the tips of Everly’s fingers. She was sure her chest must have been burned as well—but she couldn’t care about that right now.

Trash dad Shelly was still under the influence of some unknown force, striding deeper into the apartment. The dim wall lamps flickered on and off, casting a faint, eerie light, and his face had taken on a deathly blue-black hue.

They were now some distance from the main entrance. Once Shelly died, how could a tiny baby who couldn’t even walk escape this terrifying, dangerous place?

Thinking this, Everly gritted her teeth against the burning pain in her fingertips and screamed, raising the cross high above her head. She pressed it firmly against Shelly’s chin.

—Wake up! Come on, useless dad!!!

“Sss… ssssss…”

The moment the cross touched Shelly, a surge of transparent flames erupted from it. The colorless fire spread quickly over his skin, and wherever the flames licked, the sizzling sound of burning flesh rang out. The stench of pus and rot seemed to be extracted like oil, steaming out from every pore, making his face even more terrifying—like a demon crawling up from hell.

“Shhh, shhh…” The flames climbed over his lips and the bridge of his nose, continuing upward.

As a price, Everly noticed the cross in her hands rapidly shrinking, as if… as if the fire was using the brass of the cross itself as fuel!

As the holy flames climbed upward, finally scorching Shelly’s eyes, the “sssizz” sound suddenly grew louder. From the center of his pupils, two bright flames erupted outward. The darkness that had clouded his eyes let out a piercing, shrill scream; under the blaze, strand by strand, it reluctantly faded away.

When the last shadow disappeared, Shelly shuddered all over, his gaze clear—like waking from a long, dark dream.

The first thing he did was clutch his cheeks, letting out a sharp cry of pain: “Ah! Aaaahhh! It hurts, it hurts so much!”

Thankfully, he wasn’t completely foolish. While screaming in agony, his mind quickly reacted. He spun around and bolted for the apartment exit.

When life is at stake, burns and fractures are trivial. Gritting through the pain in his body, Shelly, all the while screaming, wailing, and yelling like a helpless man, unleashed every ounce of strength he had. He ran, ran, ran toward the only faintly glowing door in the darkness—until, with a soft “pop,” he smashed through the invisible barrier. Light poured in, and clutching Everly against his chest, he staggered back into the bustling, noisy street.

The moment sunlight once again bathed their bodies, Everly felt her hands go empty.

She lifted her blistered hands and saw it—the cross-shaped burn still imprinted in her palm, exactly matching the mark on Shelly’s chin. But between her hand and the scar, the old brass cross that had saved her life was gone, reduced to a handful of pale golden ashes drifting away on the wind, disappearing into the distance.

The cross that had saved her life had burned up completely.

“Ugh… ughhh!”

As her body relaxed from the extreme strain, a wave of nauseating, foul-tasting cold surged up her throat. Everly could no longer hold back; she opened her mouth, craned her neck, and vomited violently.

The vomit that had landed on Everly’s chest and the ground was black, thick, stringy, and foul-smelling—looking something like tar, yet also a bit like hair. Everly was certain she had never eaten anything like it—she was still just a baby, so logically what should have come up would only have been milk and stomach fluids.

After her, trash dad Shelly started vomiting too. Leaning against a streetlamp, he opened his mouth, and with a “whoosh,” a large mass of black liquid spewed out. The sludge on the ground was even thicker and more pungent than Everly’s, and the way it erupted and splattered everywhere made it seem less like vomiting and more like a cannon firing.

The corpses outside the apartment had only just been removed, and curious onlookers hadn’t dispersed yet. Seeing the bizarre sight of a father and daughter vomiting together quickly drew a crowd of concerned people.

“Oh my god, it stinks! They must have food poisoning!”

“That person’s face is burned too!”

“Hey, didn’t the ambulance just leave? Hurry, call it back…”

Everly vomited almost everything she had left in her tiny stomach. Afterward, a wave of overwhelming fatigue hit her. Amid the chaos of the onlookers’ shouting, her heavy eyelids soon drifted into a dark, disordered sleep.

…

When she opened her eyes again, she was still in the familiar hospital—but thankfully, no longer in the neonatal ward. She was in a regular ward.

Probably from being contaminated by the filth in the Mayflower Apartments, Everly now had a fever.

An IV drip hung from the back of her hand, and her fingertip burns were covered with ointment. Her face was flushed, her breathing heavy, and the tiny girl curled up on the bed looked exceptionally pitiful.

In the bed next to hers lay trash dad Shelly. He was even worse off. His previously healing leg injury flared up again after the frantic running in the apartment. To prevent misalignment of the bones, the doctor had to reopen the wound that had barely healed and reinsert the steel pins. On top of that, because his body had been manipulated by the evil force, he had started vomiting and diarrhea as soon as he arrived at the hospital, and now he was running a high fever as well.

The father and daughter, each wracked with illness, occupied a hospital bed apiece, enduring their recovery in the newly rebuilt facility.

Meanwhile, the Mayflower Apartments continued its grim tally of deaths, almost daily making headlines in the newspapers.

With so many casualties, rumors of the “cannibal apartment” began spreading far and wide. Seeing that his property was on the verge of becoming a notorious haunted house, the landlord—a moderately wealthy businessman—finally decided he could no longer sit idle.

Through connections, he hired an exorcist named “Wester” to help. This man had a reputation for solving famous paranormal cases such as the “Desia Dollhouse” and the “Haunted Inn,” demonstrating exceptional skill. Naturally, his fees were equally extraordinary; without enough money, one could not even hope to hire him. Many had criticized him as “stingy” or “cold-hearted,” but Wester paid no heed and continued on his own terms.

Now, this legendary figure in the U.S. exorcist circles sat at Shelly’s bedside, a cigarette unlit in his mouth, eyes narrowed lazily as he listened to Shelly recount the terrifying events from a week ago at the apartment.

While his personal resume was steeped in legend, Wester’s real-life appearance was surprisingly young—just over thirty. Broad-shouldered, long-legged, with deep-set eyes, his curly black hair haphazardly pinned back with a few metal clips at the temples. Beneath thick brows, his green eyes gleamed with a mysterious light. Coupled with the stubble on his lips, he exuded a mix of rugged charm and sensuality—a roguish, carefree playboy who seemed to toy with the world.

He was the type of face that appealed strongly to those with a taste for older, authoritative men.

“…So, if it weren’t for the cross necklace that day, you think you might have died inside the apartment?” After the long story, Everly listened as Wester asked.

“Yes, exactly… The state I was in is really hard to describe. It felt like another presence had taken up residence in my mind. It bewitched me, made me forget fear, and all I wanted was to stay in the apartment forever, dedicating everything to that presence…” Even a week later, recalling the events of that day still gave Shelly goosebumps.

“Huh… I think I have a pretty clear idea of the situation. Mr. Shelly, you should thank your father-in-law. From what you’ve described, for it to have such power, the cross he gave you must have been blessed by at least one cardinal. It’s a very precious item for exorcism.” With that, Wester opened his wallet, pulled out several hundred-dollar bills, and placed them on Shelly’s bedside. “This is the agreed-upon ‘intelligence fee.’”

“Thank you so much! If there’s anything else you want to know, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“There’s nothing more I need to ask.” Wester shook his head, stood from the chair, and said, “I’ve already unraveled the mystery behind this incident… Everything is in place. Next, it’s my turn to take action.”

Saying this, he grabbed the collar of his neatly tailored long coat and gave it a sharp shake. The long hem swirled in a crisp arc through the air. The exorcist lowered his head, adjusted his black fedora, then turned and lazily waved his right hand at Shelly. In the next instant, he strode toward the door with the speed and grace of the wind, vanishing from the hospital room.