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There is always a wet man coming to buy something. He behaved strangely, looking more and more like a water ghost who had just crawled out. Just as I was tossing and turning, I found my husband digging a hole in the backyard. When no one was around, he dug up the soil and found that the body was that of a man who often did shopping. My brain ached violently when I looked at the corpse. Who is this man? Why do I have this image of a man asking for help in my mind? Did I kill this man? Or was it my husband who killed him? Who is this man? Just when I turned on my phone and wanted to call the police, my husband surrendered. But I seem to know that the murderer is not him.