The stream of cold air rushed straight into the back of Lam An's neck, making his hair stand on end. His hand trembled violently, nearly dropping his phone onto the coffee shop's wooden floor. Without daring to turn around, An stared at the phone's pitch-black screen, using it to catch the reflection behind him.
There was no one standing there. But in the shadowed corner of the coffee shop window, a hazy patch of condensation had gathered into the shape of a hand, its unnaturally long fingers lightly scratching at the glass.
An didn't dare hesitate for another second. He hurriedly left a bill on the table, sprang to his feet, and rushed out of the café.
Outside, the blazing midday sun of Ghost Month poured down like fire, but An still felt ice-cold all over. Master Vu's instructions echoed through his mind without pause: *Don't take off your sunglasses, don't answer when anyone calls your name, and under no circumstances get on a bus if you see the White Raincoat Figure.*
Master Vu's house was on the outskirts, more than twenty kilometers from where An lived. The fastest way to get there now was to catch Bus 8 at the stop across the street.
An hurried across the crosswalk. The bus stop was deserted in the midday heat, with only a woman burdened by bags of groceries and a schoolboy hunched over his phone. An pressed himself into the corner beneath a large tropical almond tree, trying to make himself as small as possible.
*Hissss...*
Bus 8 slowed to a crawl before coming to a complete stop in front of the station. The doors opened with a soft hiss of compressed air. An breathed a sigh of relief and was about to step aboard, but the instant he raised his foot to the first step, his left eye began twitching violently.
Through the lenses of his sunglasses, with the bizarre ash-gray vision, An was horrified to see someone sitting motionless in the very last row of the bus: a figure draped in a filthy white plastic raincoat smeared with dark reddish-brown stains. Its head was bent against its chest, but its deathly pale hands, crisscrossed with black threads and resting on its thighs, were oozing drops of murky water.
An froze where he stood. His legs felt as though they had been encased in concrete.
"You getting on, kid? Open the doors and all the hot air gets in!" the Driver called, turning his sweaty, irritated face toward him.
"I... I got the wrong bus! Go ahead, sir!" An stammered, backing away two steps.
The bus doors slammed shut. The vehicle rolled away. Through the murky rear window, An saw the White Raincoat Figure slowly lift its head. Even through the layer of glass, he could feel its nonexistent eye boring straight into him.
The midday wind swept through the trees, sending their leaves rustling to the ground. An leaned against a lamppost, his heart pounding like a war drum. He understood that if he had boarded that bus just now, he might never have made it to Master Vu's house.
Unable to take the bus, An decided to flag down a motorbike taxi driven by an old man who was standing nearby enjoying the shade. When the Driver heard the address in the old village on the outskirts, he nodded immediately and quoted a fare of two hundred thousand dong.
The sputtering motorbike roared to life and carried An away from the crowded city center. The farther they traveled toward the outskirts, the emptier the roads became. High-rises gradually gave way to lush green rice fields and village roads shaded by ancient trees.
"Young man, you heading to Master Vu's for a feng shui reading or to have your fortune told?" the Driver asked, trying to break the oppressive silence.
An tightened his grip on his backpack strap and answered softly, "I've got a little family business to take care of, sir."
"Mm. Master Vu's very good. But he doesn't take many clients anymore. I hear there have been a lot of strange things happening around that village lately. Nobody dares go outside at night..."
Before the Driver could finish, the motorbike suddenly jerked several times and then died completely in the middle of the deserted road. On both sides, moss-covered stone burial mounds lay scattered among the rice fields.
"That's strange. I just filled the tank..." the Driver muttered as he climbed off and fumbled with the kick starter.
An stepped off the bike, a powerful sense of unease rising in his chest. Suddenly, a deeply familiar voice rang out from behind him:
*"An... wait for Mom..."*
That warm, gentle voice... it was his mother's voice—the voice of a woman who had died of illness three years ago!
An's spine turned ice-cold. His hand began to shake violently, and he nearly turned around and answered on instinct. But Master Vu's warning immediately rang through his mind: NEVER ANSWER ANYONE WHO CALLS YOUR NAME FROM BEHIND!
An bit his lip until it bled, forcing down his instincts. He focused his left eye on his shadow stretching across the road.
Under the harsh sunlight, beside his shadow and the Driver's, a third shadow had appeared. It was unnaturally long and emaciated, with not a single hair on its head, and it was slowly reaching out two long, spindly arms to embrace An's neck from behind...