At noon, the property manager called to inform me that Miss Lim from Unit 1502 had just landed and would be home soon.
I picked up the clay jar sealed with the spirit's sigil and tucked it carefully into my LV bag.
First, I needed lunch.
After eating, I returned to Jade Residence.
I walked toward the elevator. A young woman stood waiting in front of it, a large suitcase trailing behind her.
She was attractive, stylishly dressed, with a weary look in her eyes.
Could this be Miss Lim?
We both stepped into the elevator. She reached out and pressed the button for the 15th floor.
I was certain now.
"Miss Lim?" I ventured.
She turned to look at me, her gaze cautious.
Her eyes flickered over my heavily tattooed arms, and her wariness deepened.
I smiled politely. "I'm Ajarn Ken. I believe the property manager spoke to you about the situation in your unit."
Miss Lim hesitated. "He did mention something," she said slowly. "But I don't believe it. I've lived there for a year without a single issue. There's no way my place is haunted."
I was about to respond when the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.
Without another word, she pulled her suitcase out of the elevator and headed straight for 1502, never once looking back.
I paused for a moment, then decided to follow.
I followed her to the door of Unit 1502. Without warning, she spun around and glared at me.
"Why are you following me?"
"Just had a few questions about... the little ghost in your unit."
"I told you—there's no ghost in my place. Now leave. Don't bother me."
"Is that so?" I smiled. "I hope you'll still feel that way once you're inside."
She didn't seem to register what I said. Her eyes stayed wary.
"Back off, or I'll scream."
I raised my hands and stepped away.
She wasted no time. The door swung open, and she dragged her suitcase in as fast as she could.
Bang!
I waited.
A moment later, a scream rang out from inside.
The door flew open again. She stood there, pale as a sheet, her voice shaking.
"I... I... there's something..."
She looked shaken to the core. Words failed her.
I smiled gently.
"So... may I come in now?"
She hesitated, then gave a small nod and pulled the door open for me.
The moment I stepped inside, chaos greeted me.
The couch was tipped at an angle, the coffee table overturned. The TV remote lay smashed on the floor, batteries rolled into the far corner.
Glass marbles and plastic blocks were scattered everywhere, like a toy box had exploded.
But the worst part was the wall.
Dozens of handprints—small, child-sized—stamped across the white paint in a rust-red that could only be blood. All of them clustered waist-level and below.
"There really… is a ghost," Miss Lim whispered, her voice trembling. "Did it do all this?"
I nodded, saying nothing.
"So what now?" she asked. "What am I supposed to do?"
"Relax," I said flatly. "It ran off and started bothering the neighbor in Unit 1503. I've already taken care of it."
I reached into my LV crossbody bag and pulled out the clay jar.
"It's sealed in here now."
She instinctively backed away, her eyes flickering with fear and confusion.
"Why... why would this happen? Everything was fine before I left the country. Where did this thing even come from?"
"Come from?" I let out a low, humorless laugh.
"This is a type of kumanthong—you should know better than me. It didn't just 'show up.' You raised it. And I'd like to ask you, Miss Lim—why the hell would you keep something like this?"
"I didn't raise a ghost!" Her voice pitched high, frantic.
I glanced at the glass marbles, the toy blocks scattered everywhere. "Then explain these. As far as I know, you live alone."
She froze for a beat, then suddenly blinked, as if something clicked in her memory.
"Sweet Dreams Baby," she murmured.
"Sweet Dreams Baby?" I frowned.
"I—" she reached for her phone, fingers trembling. "I have trouble sleeping sometimes. I saw an ad online for this thing called Sweet Dreams Baby. Said it could help with sleep, so I ordered one…"
She opened a shopping app and typed [sweet dreams baby]. A page full of listings appeared in seconds.
She turned the screen toward me.
Rows of dolls stared back.
Infant-sized. Soft features, glassy eyes, plump limbs swaddled in knitted onesies. Some clutched bottles; others lay with eyes shut, frozen in artificial sleep.
They were adorable.
They looked peaceful.
Too peaceful.