The Perfect Transplant of Sin

I woke up with no memories. My wife and daughter, lying beside me, claimed we’d always been a happy family.

Then, deep in the closet, I found a diary written in handwriting identical to mine: “Don’t trust them. They’re already dead.”

I pretended everything was normal and carried on with my life. But in the middle of the night, I accidentally heard my wife whispering to herself, “If it fails again, we’ll have to use the next body...”

I secretly investigated my past and was horrified to discover that I had once been a serial killer who targeted women.

In the end, I learned that my supposed “wife and daughter” were only using my body to carry out the revenge they had left unfinished.

I smashed the family portrait and watched them scream as they vanished. It turned out I was the experimental subject whose memories had been implanted.

And now, that familiar handwriting came from the closet again: “The game continues. You’re next.”