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When his corpse tore through the twilight, blood was oozing from the pupils of the red moon. The entire city faded into a pale skeleton in the bleeding moonlight, and the sound of fingernails scratching could be heard from under the asphalt road. Every time the street lights went out, a shadow grew its throat from the cracks in the wall, eating the remaining breath of the living. At night when the blood moon never falls, the oden in the convenience store will have bones floating on it, the elevator numbers will crawl backwards towards the morgue, and the reflection of his smile will grow deep in the cracks of all the mirrors. When the bloodstains of the first disappearance case condensed into a moon phase diagram, people finally heard the city swallowing sounds underground: Welcome to the cemetery of the living dead that he fed with dead pupils.