My mother, who had been dead for seven years, gave me a phone call.
"Of the twelve corpses brought to the funeral home tonight, one is still alive."
I rushed to the morgue and saw thirteen death certificates.
The strange rules came and the city was swallowed up by death copies one after another. I can read the rules of killing from the relics of the deceased, and I can also use them to counter-kill ghost stories.
The price is - every time I use my ability, someone will forget about me.
First, my colleagues forgot my name, the landlord denied that I had ever lived there, and there was only a bunch of noise in the surveillance video. Until the Department of Survival Affairs put the death list from seven years ago in front of me.
The last page of the list is my photo.
Name: Wen Sheng.
Status: Confirmed dead.
And my mother's voice rang from the phone again:
"Don't let them find Zero."
