Chapter 12: I Want Pocket Money

Chapter 12: I Want Pocket Money

You need to do something to make You Guang stop seeing you as prey. Otherwise, even if you escape this time, there will be a next. Your mother can’t protect you every moment, and this world is far more dangerous than you imagined.

"...Uh, this ball is so cute. Where did you buy it?"

After a long silence, you hear yourself speak, your childish voice hoarse, weak, and utterly lacking in force.

The moment the words leave your mouth, you want to punch yourself.

Listen to that—what kind of nonsense is this!

As expected, You Guang ignores you, his expression unchanged, his gaze anything but friendly.

In your memory, he hardly ever shows any other expression—but there are exceptions. You rack your brain, recalling those rare instances, desperately searching for a way to save yourself.

The first time was because your mother was present. Under the pressure she exerted, You Guang even revealed his name.

The second time... you praised him yesterday. Though the change in his expression was subtle, amidst his typically blank expressions, even the slightest shift was hard to miss—especially since you’ve always paid close attention to him.

Suddenly enlightened, you speak with heartfelt sincerity and earnestness: "Thank you, You Guang. You saved me again. Not only are you good-looking, but you’re also incredibly strong. You scared all those things away!"

A child’s voice, earnest and firm, still carries a softness no matter how much you try to sound grown-up, creating an illusion of absolute trust and dependence.

The malice in You Guang’s gaze wavers slightly, turning somewhat strange.

It’s working!

Your eyes light up, and you open your mouth to shower him with more praise—when suddenly, You Guang glances downstairs and swiftly vanishes into the shadows of the corner.

A few breaths later, your mother ascends the stairs in her white dress.

Her long black hair obscures her face as she looks up at you, revealing only one chilling eye.

So, You Guang disappeared because your mother came home. For a moment, you thought something even he couldn’t handle had appeared, nearly stopping your heart in fright.

At the sight of your mother, your fear dissipates completely, replaced by overwhelming frustration and anger. You run over and cling to her leg—cold to the touch, but that doesn’t stop you from complaining: "Mom! So many bad things came out to bully me at home!"

Your mother, furious once again since yesterday, strides inside first. The door swings open automatically before her, slamming against the wall with a loud *bang*.

You trail closely behind, peeking into the house—only to find everything back to normal. This only makes you angrier.

Those creatures only dare to pick on a child. The moment your mother returns, they all hide.

"The phone, the ceiling, the kitchen, the bathroom, the wardrobe in the bedroom." You point out each troublesome spot one by one. "Bad things came out from all these places!"

Though you didn’t see anything, perhaps because you’ve lived with your mother since childhood, your senses are sharp. Even without looking or listening, you can detect strange presences. Now, you name every problematic spot without missing a single one.

"Good." Your mother’s face grows grim as she drifts through the house, murmuring, "...Finally couldn’t hold back, huh? I was worried I wouldn’t find you all. Now..."

She floats to the wall, facing it directly, her face nearly pressed against it. Suddenly, her arms grip the wall, and she swiftly climbs up, reaching the ceiling in the blink of an eye. Her palms and knees stick to the ceiling, her long hair hanging down as she hangs upside down.

You’re still pondering the meaning of your mother’s words when this shocking sight nearly makes your eyes pop out.

*Nearly*, because you’ve grown accustomed to your mother’s abnormalities. Even if your mind screams *this is insane*, your body reacts with, *Whatever, just mom being mom*.

Once on the ceiling, your mother freezes in place, motionless, her eyes fixed on a corner of the ceiling—the same spot where the shadow and mold stains had appeared earlier.

You crane your neck, watching for five minutes. Your mother remains still, but your neck can’t take it anymore. To avoid developing neck problems at a young age, you lie down on the sofa, staring in her direction. Much more comfortable.

Still no movement from your mother.

As you watch, you grow sleepy. The sofa feels cold, and just as you consider moving to your room to sleep, you suddenly realize—the temperature in the house has dropped.

You quickly look at your mother. She’s still hanging upside down, but the ceiling corner under her gaze now shows a spreading shadow, like water seeping through. It grows larger under her stare, as if an invisible hand is forcing it out.

Then, your mother moves. She presses her hand against the shadow, and the quiet house fills with strange, squelching noises.

You lie on the sofa, watching intently. It should be terrifying, but after half an hour of watching her motionless form and listening to squelching noises, you can’t hold on any longer and doze off.

---

The next day.

You wake up on the sofa, a small blanket draped over you. Your mother sits beside you, silently watching, her face hidden behind her long black hair.

"Good morning, Mom." Yawning, you get up to wash and grab some milk and bread. As you sit back down, your foot bumps against a red rubber ball.

The moment you see it, your entire body jolts—instantly wide awake.

This is You Guang’s ball!

He disappeared too suddenly yesterday, leaving you no chance to return it. Now, you’ve even brought it home overnight!

Your throat goes dry as you wonder how to explain this to You Guang in a way he’ll listen. Maybe simple flattery won’t save you this time.

You need a plan.

"They’re all handled. No need to be afraid." Your mother suddenly speaks, sensing your fear.

You understand—she means the things in the house last night have been dealt with.

That’s good news, though you missed the finale since you fell asleep.

Recalling your mother’s murmurs last night, you ask her about it.

After a pause, she answers in a low voice, "With them... no contact means no interference. They’ve always been here, unseen. I worried for you. They targeted you, appeared in the house. You and the house—the mediums. Through them, I touched them."

She rarely speaks in long sentences. Most of the time, she breaks them into shorter phrases you can understand, just like now.

Perhaps it’s because she seldom communicates with others.

Where your mother goes during the day has always been an unspoken topic between you.

"Mom, they only bully me when you’re not here. How can I make them afraid to come after me?" You clench your fists, all but stating your desire for power.

It might sound absurd for a five-year-old child to seek supernatural strength, but if your mother could summon a cat spirit to protect you, maybe there’s a way.

"...This isn’t something you can do." That’s all she says.

"Why? What’s the method?" You refuse to give up. After days of close calls, you’re terrified you might not live to see tomorrow.

"Destroy them... to resist them."

You deflate. You can’t fight anyone, can hardly run—let alone *destroy* anything.

But as you pick up the red rubber ball, you perk up again.

If you can’t fight, can’t you just find more help?

You touch the ball, sipping milk as you strategize. The ball is worn, with several deep gashes that nearly puncture it, as if made by a sharp object. Dark stains remain in the grooves.

An idea suddenly comes to you.

"Mom, um... do you... have any money?"

"I want pocket money!"