1 I was on my balcony hanging up a duvet to air out when a bucket of piss rained down on my head. Before I could even process what had happened, my upstairs neighbor started screaming. "Hey, new girl! Don't you have any common decency? Your stupid duvet is blocking all the positive energy from my apartment!" "I have a delicate constitution!" she shrieked. "I have to do my morning tai chi in the sun to align my chakras! Blocking my light is like stealing my life force! You're trying to kill me, you evil bitch!" Excuse me? She was on the sixth floor, and I was on the fifth. How was my duvet blocking her sun? Was Isaac Newton aware of this development in physics? Infuriated, I stormed into my kitchen and grabbed a butcher knife, but as I got to the door, she doused my welcome mat with what smelled suspiciously like acid. Then, at four in the morning, she started hammering on my door, demanding I let her in for an "inspection." "What are you hiding in there?" she yelled through the door. "Are you sucking the life out of men in there? You tramp!" Just when I was about to lose my mind, I saw a post on a local community forum: 【My next-door neighbor is an actual demon! She hangs red lanterns outside her door, keeps a coffin in her living room, and tries to force-feed people 'blessed' water she makes with burnt paper.】 【Dear God, please, someone come and get this witch!】 A wicked smile spread across my face. I immediately sent a private message. A physical attacker versus a magical one? This was going to be fun. 2 The hammering on my door was deafening. It was a Saturday morning, and all I could think was, *Is she having a psychotic break?* I was soaked, and the acrid smell of urine was making my eyes water. My brand-new, five-hundred-dollar down comforter was ruined. Even if I washed it, I’d never be able to sleep under it again. And the screaming continued. "Hey, 502! Are you dead in there? If not, open this damn door!" "You're a streetwalker, a filthy whore! You're not just dirty yourself, you're messing up the feng shui of the entire building!" "My husband's stocks are tanking, and my son has no appetite! This is all your fault!" "If you want to suck out people's life force, go live under someone else's apartment! Stop trying to seduce my family!" She was just spewing vile, baseless accusations. How did I, a night-shift surgeon, suddenly become a prostitute? So I was supposed to work like a dog all night and then deal with this in the morning? I’ve been on the internet since the dawn of time. I don't lose flame wars. I grabbed a kitchen knife, planning to give the old hag a good scare. Suddenly, my phone rang. It was my next-door neighbor, a girl named Chloe. I’d only moved in a week ago after finishing renovations, and she was the only person I'd met. We were around the same age, both grinders at nearby companies, so we'd exchanged numbers. I didn't have time for a chat. I declined the call and opened my screen door. My phone rang again. It was her. A second later, a text popped up. [OMG DUDE, DO NOT OPEN THE DOOR!!!] [I just saw that crazy old bat! She's holding a bottle of something! I think it's acid!] 3 Chloe's text made me snatch my hand back from the door. Was this woman insane? I hung up a comforter, and she curses me out and tries to throw acid on me? I slammed the inner door shut and furiously typed back. [I don't even know her! How is hanging a duvet a capital offense?] [And how could I possibly block her sun from the floor below? That makes no sense!] The "typing…" bubble on her end appeared and disappeared several times. A minute later, a sixty-second voice memo came through. I hit play. Chloe's voice was practically a snarl. "You're new, so you don't know," she said. "The woman upstairs, her name is Karen, with a capital K. She's the legendary lunatic of this building. She's obsessed with 'wellness' to the point of psychosis. She has meltdowns in the lobby all the time. Seriously, do not engage. If she screams at you, just ignore her. If she fixates on you, your life will be hell." "Ugh, I can't explain it all over text. I'm adding you to the group chat." The next thing I knew, I was in a group called "What fresh hell is the hag brewing today?" There were over fifty people in it. Before I could even say hi, the group admin dropped a bunch of PDF files into the chat. Chloe tagged me: [@Clara you need to read these. I’d print them out and tape them to your wall. Read them every day so you don't forget.] Confused, I opened one of the files. My eyes went wide. It was a meticulously compiled list of "rules" for living in the building, nearly a hundred of them. 1. *Do not hang anything on your balcony. Clothes, bedding, even cured meats are forbidden. Karen says it disrupts the energy flow to her apartment.* 2. *If you're not home by 7 PM, get a hotel. Karen claims latecomers bring "damp, negative energy" into the building, and she has been known to attack doors with an axe.* 3. *If you have a partner, all… intimate activities… must be conducted during daylight hours. Otherwise, Karen will stand outside your door and perform a mourning ritual, wailing about the "deathly yin energy" you're creating.* 4. *Park your car outside the complex. Karen believes cars are "metal coffins" and refuses to have them within a three-mile radius of her home.* And so on. I took a long, hot shower, threw my clothes in the trash, and scrolled through the rest of the insane list. [Seriously? There are fifty of you, and you just let her do this? Has no one called the cops?] I typed. Chloe replied instantly: [The cops know her by name. She has a documented history of mental illness. What can they do? It's the world we live in. The crazy ones have all the power. She has nothing to lose, and we have our lives and jobs to protect. Just lie low, Clara. Eventually, she'll find a new target.] What? My brand-new condo, my expensive comforter, my precious sleep. I was supposed to just take it? I deal with enough stress at work; I wasn't going to tolerate an ounce of it in my personal life. I called the police. I refused to believe they couldn't do anything. 4 The cops arrived in ten minutes. When I opened the door, I was met by two officers who looked utterly exhausted. Before I could speak, my upstairs neighbor came charging down the stairs. I finally got a good look at her. A severe buzz cut on a face twisted with rage, like the whole world owed her something. She pushed past the officers and lunged for my hair. "Officers, it's this slut! She hung her duvet out and sucked up all the positive energy from my apartment! She's trying to murder me!" I dodged her, almost laughing in disbelief. I called the cops, and she was the one filing a complaint? I addressed the officers directly. "She poured a bucket of urine on me from her balcony, ruining my five-hundred-dollar comforter. She's been banging on my door and threatened me with acid. I have security camera footage." The woman, Karen, just sneered. "Well, you stole my life force. What did you expect?" The officers sighed. I could tell from their weary expressions this wasn't their first rodeo with 602. The younger cop tried to reason with her. "Ma'am, with all due respect, it's physically impossible for her to block your sunlight from the floor below. That's just basic science." Karen snorted. "Don't talk to me about science. We wellness practitioners deal with energy fields and feng shui! There's only so much sunlight to go around. If she takes some, I get less! It's simple logic! I can't believe a police officer doesn't understand that!" The older officer clearly had no patience for this. "Karen, we're asking you nicely. Stop harassing your neighbor, or we're taking you downtown." That was her cue. She threw herself on the ground, ripped open the collar of her shirt, and started wailing. "Go ahead! Arrest me! I have a doctor's note for my condition! I'm a respectable woman! I'll sue you for assault!" She then proceeded to grab the officers' legs and rub her chest against them. They recoiled in horror. I stood there, mouth agape, finally understanding why Chloe said calling the cops was useless. Karen shot me a venomous look. "I did my research on you! You're a surgeon! Your hands are covered in blood and death! You come home from the morgue every night trailing ghosts and negative energy! You've completely corrupted the magnetic field of my home! My family is in danger! You owe me ten thousand dollars in damages! Pay up, or I'll make your life a living hell!" In the end, the police did manage to haul her away. They made her pay me for the comforter and charged her with obstruction. I knew a little about the law; that meant she'd be held for at least a few days. Finally, some peace and quiet. I texted Chloe: [See? You just have to trust the system. If she starts up again, we'll just call the cops.] Her reply was a single, crying emoji. [Clara, why didn't you listen? You're so, so screwed now.] 5 I dismissed her text as overly dramatic. I had dinner plans with a friend and didn't think about it again until I got home around 10 PM. I stopped dead in my tracks. My front door was gone. Not just unlocked, but completely removed from its hinges. The entire doorframe was smashed, leaving a gaping hole where my entryway used to be. My living room was exposed to the entire hallway. My underwear was scattered on the sofa, my personal documents were strewn across the coffee table, and my collection of art figures had been thrown to the floor. "What… what happened to my door?" I rushed into the apartment to find Karen sprawled on my sofa, her dirty feet propped up on the armrest, spitting sunflower seed shells onto my rug. Seeing my expression, she grinned. "Not so tough now, are you, little girl?" She stood up, her belly protruding. "I'm pregnant. The cops aren't going to touch a pregnant woman, are they?" she sneered. "And let me tell you something else. I have connections. I can get your door taken down today, and I can get you fired tomorrow. If you know what's good for you, you'll stay out of my way. Or maybe I'll just 'trip and fall' outside your apartment and have a 'miscarriage.' How would that look for you at work?" Her husband sat silently on the other couch, staring at the floor. Her son, a carbon copy of his mother's brutish features, was flipping through my channels like he owned the place. I knew I couldn't fight a pack of rabid animals, especially not at this hour. I forced myself to apologize. Karen spat on my floor, and the three of them swaggered out, leaving me trembling with a mixture of rage and fear. I couldn't believe that in a civilized society, there was no way to deal with someone like this. I understood the police were in a tough spot, but a pregnant woman? Chloe heard the commotion and pulled me into her apartment, handing me a warm mug of tea. "I told you," she sighed. "You think I didn't try calling the cops? I'm a content creator. I didn't just call the cops, I posted a whole exposé on TikTok." She sighed and rolled up her sleeve. A long, ugly scar, like a centipede, ran down her forearm. "This psycho gets 'pregnant' every year. She claims condoms are 'unnatural and full of toxins,' but somehow she always 'miscarries' and extorts money from someone in the building. She's untouchable because her uncle is some big shot in construction, the kind with shady connections. We're just normal people, Clara. We can't win. My lease is up next month, and I'm out of here. Seriously, don't try to fight her. It's not worth it." I looked at her, at the fear in her eyes, and realized that her constant warnings weren't a sign of weakness, but the bravest act of kindness she could offer. A dog will bite you, but you can't bite it back. Unless, of course, the other party is also a dog… An idea sparked. I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my browser history until I found it: a post from a local forum titled, "How do you deal with a neighbor from the underworld?" The original poster had been ranting for weeks: [HELP ME. MY NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOR IS LITERALLY A GHOUL.] [She's some rich kid who's obsessed with death. She cosplays as a corpse and spends her days asking people if she 'looks dead yet.' She terrifies people in the elevator late at night.] [She turned her apartment into a mausoleum. She has a real coffin in the living room and knocked a hole in her wall to install a shrine to Hades. It's so creepy, I swear I can feel a cold draft coming from her place.] [Her decorating style is 'demonic chic.' Red lanterns in the hallway, green lighting inside. She chants spells and tries to get people to drink 'blessed water' she makes by burning sigils. She claims she has connections in the underworld and can 'escort us to the other side' whenever she wants.] [I'm losing my mind. Please, someone, come get this girl!] 6 I got in touch with the poster. The girl next door to him was a trust-fund kid, back from studying abroad where she got really into "Goth culture." Now, she was obsessed with Chinese mythology, specifically the concept of *Diyu*, the eighteen levels of hell. She called it "Asiabyss" culture and insisted the entire building adopt her lifestyle. She was caught injecting her "blessed water" into neighbors' milk deliveries and taping gruesome, bloody talismans to their doors. She demanded absolute darkness, keeping her AC at a frigid 60 degrees year-round. When a sliver of sunlight reflecting off a neighbor's window hit her curtains, she showed up at their door with a scythe, screaming about being "burned by the light of the living." To top it all off, she was only fifteen. A minor. Whenever anyone tried to reason with her, she'd threaten to murder them, claiming her "friends on the other side" would protect her. She also claimed to have severe depression, and everyone knew that with a minor who was also a mental health case, you couldn't risk a confrontation. The more I heard, the more excited I got. As the saying goes, it takes a villain to catch a villain. Or, if there isn't one, you create one. Karen was using her pregnancy as a shield. Let's see how she'd handle a teenage death cultist. I contacted "Asiabyss Girl" directly. I told her I had a place for rent and sent her pictures of my smashed-in doorway. "The price is negotiable," I wrote. "The main thing is, the feng shui in my place is incredibly negative. Very dark, very heavy energy." I laid it on thick. "It's a real problem. Most people are too scared to even step inside." It was classic reverse psychology for a teenager. Sure enough, she replied instantly. [Others may be scared. I am not.] [The damage is… acceptable. The open-air concept will be perfect for raising my children.] *Raising her children?* Before I could ask, she sent another message. [I am bored of my current residence. They call this a luxury high-rise, but it is filled with conformist fools who are resistant to new culture. Pathetic mortals. Your building seems suitably decrepit. The residents are likely half-dead husks, much like the denizens of the underworld. It will suffice.] The sheer density of cringe left me speechless. She wasn't wrong about the half-dead husks part, though. [Yes, yes,] I typed back. [All soul-crushed corporate drones here.] Then, a notification popped up. She'd transferred a huge sum of money to my account. [I am buying the property. Vacate the premises immediately. I must begin the renovations.] I accepted the deposit before she could change her mind. I drafted a contract so fast my fingers were a blur. I'd planned to rent, but selling was even better. She didn't even negotiate the price; I ended up making a tidy profit. I told Chloe the news, advising her to move out as planned. But she looked more excited than I was. "Are you kidding? I'm not going anywhere! I've never seen two real-life anime villains in one place before! The content potential is off the charts! Clara, if my channel blows up because of this, I'm taking you out for the best dinner of your life!" Kids these days. I really don't get them.
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