After my grandfather died, I inherited a dilapidated store.
There is a black wooden sign hanging at the door:
Doors open at midnight, no living persons allowed in.
At first I thought it was grandpa trying to scare people, until the first customer came in at midnight.
Wearing a soaked red wedding dress, she took out a bunch of keys and asked me:
"Is this apartment for sale? I've been living there for three years and want to find another place to live."
From that day on, I started selling haunted houses for dead people.
Every house has a taboo.
A wedding room where you can't look in the mirror.
The sound of chopping meat can be heard in the kitchen at three o'clock in the morning every day.
Once you move in, there will be a rental house for one more person.
There is also the tube building that has been sealed for twenty years. All the residents said:
On the thirteenth floor, no one has ever come out alive.
It was only at the end of my investigation that I discovered that what my grandfather left behind was not a store, but a debt deed owed to the underworld for thirty years.
And I am the last debt.
