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That night,I packed a small suitcase and checked into a hotel. I couldn’t stand the fear anymore.
I lay on the big bed in the hotel and finally let out a sigh of relief. No peephole. No doorbell. No hallway. No reason for fear… or so I thought.
I opened my laptop and looked at the surveillance feeds. Nothing moved. Time ticked by, quiet and uneventful.
At 11:55 p.m., I was nearly asleep when the screen suddenly flickered, just like a system reboot. For a second, I couldn't tell if I was watching the real-time footage … or that video again.
Just like the before, theman in the video slammed the doorbell repeatedly. But this time, I heard it again—faint, then louder—ringing from outside my hotel room , syncing perfectly with the ringing with the video.
There was clearly no doorbell in the hotel.Was this nightmare going to follow me wherever I went?
If this hotel had no doorbell … than no one could be outside. So where was that sound coming from? I turned my eyes back to the screen.
The ringing meant this had to be the same video. I was in the hotel,and the sense of crisis wasn't as serious as at home.I concentrated on watching the video,hoping to see if there would be more footage today.
Soon,I found something I hadn't noticed before.Before he entered the bedroom,when he hacked at the door with the axe,it caused a strong vibration,and the wall calendar hanging at the door fell down.
It was a small wall calendar of November, this month. Through the glare on the plastic coating, I could just barely make out a a red circle on the fourth row… but the exact date was obsured.
But I remembered that I hadn't circled the calendar with a red pen because the dates were already printed in red. Circling them with a red color would make them invisible.
I have always used a black ink for marking. That thick, smeared patch of red stood out —almost like blood.
And I only marked dates in the morning.
I quickly pulled up this year’s calendar album on my phone. The fourth row covered November 21st through the 27th.
Today was the 25th. If the video was real, the murder would happen tomorrow or the day after. It was a warning. A preview of death.
I immediately broke out in a cold sweat. Watching the murder preview becoming more and more consistent with my own situation wasn't a pleasant feeling at all.
How was this video sent to me? Did it come from the future? No one would believe me — not a word of it.
I scrambled to hit my phone’s recording shortcut. But as soon as blood hit the screen in the video—the playback cut out.
I try to plat the footage — but the app crashed. IWhen I reopened it, I found that the video was gone.
I froze and then understood. This video didn’t follow normal rules. It came and went on its own terms.
That also explains why the doorbell ringing in the video was so urgent but none of the neighbors came out to check.Because my neighbors all had something to do and left. All except … An Mo.
The image of An Mo’s face slowly merged with the figure from the video. I immediately called Officer King.Now,without any evidence,I could only contact a police officer I knew.
Officer King pick up the phone right away. I spoke before him:"Officer King,it's me,Lin Yue.I think someone is going to kill me."
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line,and then he asked me where I was.
"I'm in a hotel."
"Officer King,please believe me.I’ll get the evidence tomorrow night.”
As soon as I said it, I regretted it. He probably thought that I’d lost my mind. At this time,I should have waited, gathered real evidence before calling the police. But I was too desperate. Too eager end this madness and tand return to my normal life.
"Alright, calm down. Call me any time if you need help."
I bought another hidden camera from the store—just in case the first one had been tampered with. I didn't remove the original; Instead,I placed the new one in a blind spot, sweating the entire time, every move laced with panic.
This camera was placed relatively high,and the captured footage would be more comprehensive.I could clearly see whoever entered the house.
I placed the second one in the bedroom, aimed straight at the door. If the video played out again, I’d finally see the intruder’s face.
After everything was in place, I locked the doors and windows and got ready to leave.
As I bent down to pit my shoes, I caught the movement from the corner of my eye, the door to the right creaked open.
An Mo was standing there. Watching me. His stare made my scalp pickle. I suddenly remembered I had once let him into my apartment.
"You're heading out?"
I forced a smile:"Yes,I have something to do."
"Will you be back tonight?" He glanced at the laptop in my hand. His expression clearly shifted.
I couldn't help but hold my breath. Why did he stress tonight? Was it really him?
I was afraid that he would get anxious and might even take action immediately. I forced my nerves down, so I said, camly:" I just wanted to thank the police officer from that night. I'll be back soon."
I don’t know if it was because I’d said I’d return soon or because I mentioned the police. Either way, his face shifted again. He nodded and smiled, and quietly slipped back to 802.
I let out a sigh of relief and decisively went downstairs.
It was tonight. The 26th. If nothing happened tonight,j ust one more night to go. But If he really showed up —broke into my home—then I’d know. It was him.
I returned to the hotel and started watching the computer.At around 10 p.m.,the footage flickered, and then the first two cameras went dark. I froze. Ten o’clock already? Had the timeline changed?
I quickly dispelled this doubt. The two new cameras I’d installed today were still working fine.
Then someone walked in, I slappered a hand over my mouth to stifle a scream. My heart pounded like I was right there, in that room.
That person wasn't wearing a mask or a baseball cap. That wasn’t how it looked before. a chill crept in—maybe this was the butterfly effect in motion.
He casually looked around the bedroom and then entered the bedroom. The bedroom camera in the bedroom caught his face. It was An Mo.
I knew it, it was him. It had always be him.
He pulled a sharp knife — casuall, like it was nothing. The he paced the room, studying each corner like he was planning something.
Then,he smeared something on the glass cup I usually used to drink water,and then slowly slid under my bed.
That footage alone should be enough to put him away for a long time.
Once this was over, I’d leave. If I stayed there, the fear would never leave me. I’d never sleep again.
He disappeared under the bed. A few minutes later, the old footage came back online—as if nothing happened.
I called Officer King immediately, told him someone had broken into my home. Then I clipped the footage of that person and sent it over.
When I and the police arrived,it was 10:30 p.m.All the lights in the house were off. I knew someone was inside, but I couldn't bring myself to step to the door.
Officer King must’ve sensed it — he went in first.
His leather shoes echoed with each step "da-da", matching the thump of my own heartbeat. It got so loud in my chest. I could barely breathe.
Since An Mo was armed with a knife, the police moved in cautiously. But a knife was no match for a gun .It didn't take too long to bring him down.
His face twisted with rage, completely different from the man I’d once known.
He angrily cursed me as a crazy woman with delusions.
He never believed the video was real.
He really was insane. Even after being restrained, he lashed out — scratching Officer King’s hand in the struggle.
Thankfully, they subdued him quickly. Officer King forced him to the ground, with his knee against his back. An Mo stared at me, eyes wild —bloodshot and full of hate.
We went to the police station to make a statement, and the police also explained the situation to me.
An Mo had a record — drugging and assaulting women. But this was the first time he brought a knife. He’d seen me take the laptop, worried I might expose him. If things didn't go smoothly, he planned to slience me.
What he smeared on the water cup was a sleeping pill.He had been caught for this before,but after he came out,he not only didn't repent but it made him worse.
They assigned a female police officer to escort me home. By the time arrived, it was 11:35 p.m.
I meant to remove the cameras installed by An Mo and then wash up. But the second I sat on the couch, I couldn’t move. Having solved the major problem that had been bothering me,I could finally have a good sleep.
On the way to grab my nightgown, I noticed the wall calendar — knocked down to the floor during the scuffle.
I hung it back in place. There was still a bit of blood on it. I wiped it with my hand—but it only smeared, spreading like a stain.
I thought of Officer King's injury — guilt and unease prickled at me.
As I passed by it, a sudden gust swept across my back. Goosebumps rose on my skin. I turned, stiffly, toward the calendar.
On the 25th, there was red ink. Not red ink. Blood.
My hands trembled as they clamped over my mouth. I wanted to scream, but nothing came out.
I pulled out my phone. The time just jumped to 55 minutes. The moment I snapped my head toward the door, the doorbell rang.
