The alley is silent except for my footsteps. The streetlights flicker overhead, casting long shadows that seem to reach for me as I walk home alone. My hand tightens around the strap of my bag, the events of the office weighing on me—another meaningless day, another reminder of how empty my existence has become.

A movement catches my eye. Just ahead, standing beneath the flickering light, a figure. Tall, slender, with long dark hair cascading down her back. She's wearing a white dress that seems to glow faintly in the dim light. As I approach, I realize she's wearing a surgical mask, an odd accessory for this warm night.

My heart begins to race as recognition hits me. The urban legend my同事们 were whispering about—the slit-mouth woman. I should run, should turn around and flee back the way I came. But something holds me in place, a strange compulsion I can't explain.

She turns slightly as I draw near, and I catch a glimpse of eyes that seem too large, too dark. Then she speaks, her voice low and melodic despite the mask muffling her words.

"Am I beautiful?"

The question hangs in the air between us. My同事们 had joked about this, about the different ways people supposedly responded. But now, facing her in the flesh—or whatever substance composes her—I understand this is no joke. This is the moment that changes everything.

As I stare at her, something strange happens. The edges of my vision blur, and suddenly memories flood my mind—memories of a game, of choosing to enter this world. I'm not just a regular person encountering a ghost. I'm a player, and this is just the beginning.

She tilts her head slightly, waiting for my answer, her fingers brushing the large scissors she holds at her side. The moonlight catches the metal, and I can see faint traces of something dark and sticky along the blades.

"Well?" she asks again, taking a step closer. "Am I beautiful...哥哥?"

The word sends a chill down my spine. How does she know to call me that?