Under the dim yellow glow of the streetlamp, Jeff tossed a cigarette butt burned nearly down to the filter onto the ground.
Immediately after, he glanced quickly in both directions while habitually grinding the butt beneath the sole of his leather shoe.
"Hiss... damn it..."
Jeff shook his foot hard. He had forgotten that his soles had long since worn paper-thin, nearly breathable, and the heat scorched the bottom of his foot.
The night wind swept through the street with biting chill. Hardly any pedestrians remained in sight; the few in the distance hurried along with heads lowered, bundled tightly in scarves and hats.
Jeff turned up the collar of his overcoat. The fabric on both sides had grown shiny with grease and grime, yet right now, it afforded him a sense of security, of being hidden and shielded.
Ahead stood 128 Mink Street. From 50 to 200, the street was lined with townhouses. The people who bought or rented here were perhaps not fabulously wealthy, but they were solid middle class.
The house before him was home to a family of three: the master of the house was a doctor, his wife was a schoolteacher, and they had a seven-year-old son.
A maid came during the day to clean and tidy, but she never stayed the night, heading home as soon as dinner was prepared.
Furthermore, the family kept a steady routine: every Saturday evening, the whole family went to the theater to see a show.
The front door opened. The master stepped out first in a black suit and started the car parked out front.
Moments later, the mistress, wearing a red dress, emerged holding the boy's hand. After shutting the door, she climbed into her husband's car, chatting and laughing with the child.
Then the car drove away.
Jeff licked his chapped lips and quickened his pace. He vaulted over the low wooden picket fence that couldn't have stopped even a small dog, landed in the flowerbed, hurried up the front steps, and pulled a key from his pocket to insert into the lock.
*Click...*
A crisp sound announced that the lock had yielded.
Three months ago, while still a worker for a moving company handling this family's relocation, Jeff had been entrusted with the keys to the new house by the unsuspecting mistress. He had seized the opportunity to secretly cut a duplicate.
Back then, he had still hesitated over whether to commit burglary; he had lost nearly everything to gambling by that point.
Now, there was no need for hesitation, because not only did he have nothing left, but he was also drowning in debt.
Jeff slipped inside and quickly pulled the door shut behind him.
"After tonight, maybe you'll understand why you should change the locks when you move into a new place."
The first floor consisted of an open kitchen and dining area, along with a maid's room tucked in the northwest corner.
Jeff headed straight up to the second floor. He didn't turn on any house lights, instead switching on the flashlight he had brought with him. Its beam was somewhat unstable.
"Damn it..."
Jeff cursed silently again. He knew the batteries were dying, but that was because he had spent the money meant for fresh batteries on a five-lubi pack of Morf cigarettes.
He banged the flashlight sharply against his elbow several times, and the beam flared a bit brighter than before.
The second floor held the couple's master bedroom, a small study, and a bathroom.
As for the third floor, being an attic, it served solely as the boy's bedroom.
Jeff pushed open the door to the master bedroom. Greeting his eyes was a large bed and various vintage wardrobes. He knew full well that whatever valuables this family owned would most likely be kept right here, though he still planned to sweep through the small study before leaving.
*Hiss... hiss...*
The crackle of electrical interference and radio static drifted through the air.
"Welcome to Rojia Story Hour. I am your old friend... Alfred. The moon is lovely tonight. Under such a beautiful moon, whatever one does seems to carry the sweet flavor of happiness..."
Jeff was startled by the sudden voice. Looking down, he realized it was coming from an old vacuum-tube radio.
"Damn it, leaving the house and not even bothering to save on electricity!"
Jeff reached over and switched the radio off.
Next, he began rummaging through the drawers of the vanity. Generally, the mistress of the house would keep everyday jewelry and household cash here; of course, if he could find a proper jewelry box after this, all the better.
*Click...*
From the ground floor came the sound of the front door opening.
Jeff nearly jumped out of his skin with fright.
Immediately following came the click-clack of high heels ascending the stairs, heading with unmistakable purpose straight toward the bedroom.
Jeff shoved the drawer back in and snapped off the flashlight.
He was only a thief, not a robber. Stealing and robbery were two entirely different concepts; even in a court of law, the convictions were worlds apart.
Most importantly, he had no courage to be a robber!
The sound of the heels approached quickly, carrying a hint of urgency.
Jeff didn't even have time to think. He threw himself flat onto his side and rolled under the bed.
*Creak...*
Almost in the same instant, the bedroom door was pushed open.
*Snap!*
The light clicked on.
Under the bed, holding himself in a tense makeshift plank, Jeff saw a pair of red high heels walk over to the vanity. After a frantic, rustling search, she seemed to find a small medicine bottle; there was a crisp rattle of spilled pills, followed by the sound of swallowing.
Immediately after came a string of relieved, labored breaths.
Jeff watched the woman's red heels linger before the vanity for a long time. Then she stood, and the heels began to move.
*Ring-ring... ring-ring...*
The telephone rang.
The heels moved away from the bed, heading toward the coffee table beneath the windowsill where the phone sat.
The woman answered:
"Yes, yes."
"Mm, mm."
"I was going to go with them, but my condition suddenly flared up, so I had to come back for medicine. Let them go tonight; I'll just rest at home."
"It's fine, don't worry. Thanks for asking, I'm okay."
The woman hung up, turned around, and walked toward the bed.
*Clack.*
Stepping on each heel with the opposite foot, she slipped out of her shoes. The red high heels dropped almost right in front of Jeff's face—so close that he could even catch the faint scent of the leather.
Moments later, the bed shuddered slightly.
The woman must have collapsed straight onto the mattress, letting out a long, contented sigh.
Clearly, having worked all day, escaping the family outing with her husband and child finally gave her a moment of peace. Even if brought on by poor health, it was undoubtedly a welcome respite.
Beneath the bed, Jeff racked his brain for a way out.
He was regretting things now. He should have worn a mask beforehand. Had he known only the woman would return, he could have masked up, intimidated her into staying still, and then made his exit.
A woman alone wouldn't dare make a reckless move. Besides, since he hadn't actually stolen anything yet, she might have preferred to avoid trouble and not even call the police!
Yet thinking was only thinking.
Even knowing there was only a solitary woman lying on the bed right now, Jeff lacked the guts to crawl out and threaten her.
Jeff opened his mouth as wide as he could, taking long, silent breaths to ease his soaring panic.
*Wait until she falls asleep. Just wait until she falls asleep.*
Once she was asleep, before her husband and child returned, he could slip out from beneath the bed without a sound and make a clean getaway without alerting a soul.
The woman lying on the bed hummed a tune, accompanied by the rustle of turning pages.
*Damn it, why aren't you going to sleep?*
Jeff had no idea how long she read, because down under the bed, he had lost all sense of time passing.
Finally,
*Snap.*
Jeff heard the sound of the book closing.
The woman got out of bed.
Barefoot.
She walked toward the bedroom door, yawning as she went.
*Is she going to take a shower?*
Jeff felt a surge of joy.
While she was in the shower, he could make his run for it!
Yet to his crushing disappointment, after a brief click, the woman walked straight back, accompanied by the hiss of radio static.
*Creak...*
The woman climbed back onto the bed and picked up the book again.
Soft music began drifting from the radio, and the woman started humming along.
*Damn it, is she really going to wait until her husband and kid come home before she goes to sleep?!*
A song came to an end, and a man's voice came through the speaker:
"After a brief interlude, welcome back to Rojia Story Hour. Let us continue with our tale. Our mistress, Catherine, is lying in bed with a book in her hands, listening to music, thoroughly enjoying this fleeting evening leisure.
"In truth, she has always envied full-time housewives, because for a woman, holding down an outside job while managing household chores and a child is simply exhausting."
"Ah..."
Jeff heard the woman on the bed let out a soft sigh, as if finding herself in the very same situation.
However,
at that exact moment,
the words coming from the radio made every hair on Jeff's body stand on end!
"Yet what Catherine does not know is that while she lies in bed enjoying this rare peace, under her bed... someone is lying right there at this very moment..."
"..." Jeff.
"..." the woman.
The sighing and page-turning on the bed cut off instantly.
Silenced along with it was the voice on the radio; whether due to poor signal or some fault in the old unit, static flooded the room once more.
Jeff's heart leapt into his throat. The suffocating stillness in the room made it hard for him even to draw breath.
"Hehe... haha..."
From the bed came a quiet, dry chuckle from the woman, seemingly trying to ease her own embarrassment—and, more importantly, to dispel the oppressive dread of scaring herself.
Had the circumstances allowed, Jeff would have loved to laugh along with her:
*See, ma'am, don't listen to that idiot on the radio talking nonsense. How could there possibly be anyone under your bed!*
However,
at that very moment,
Jeff saw a foot slowly reach down.
The woman had shifted toward the edge of the bed.
Jeff stared at the foot, his fists slowly clenching tight.
He saw that her toes were curled stiff with tension.
She seemed desperate to step down and peek under the bed, and Jeff knew with terrifying clarity what she would see the moment she bent down to look...
Yet,
the moment her foot brushed the wooden floorboards, she slowly pulled it back up.
*Phew...*
Jeff let out a long breath in his mind.
Without realizing it, he had broken into a cold sweat that drenched his face.
Even as he gasped for air, he had to keep it deliberately restrained. He despised this scene, despised this predicament, and despised himself most of all for ever deciding to become a burglar.
Perhaps five minutes passed?
Jeff had no way of knowing. He wore no watch, and counting seconds under a bed was impossible.
All of a sudden,
Jeff saw a lock of hair droop down from the edge of the mattress.
Beneath the bed, Jeff could vividly picture the scene: the woman on the mattress was gradually leaning her head over to peer underneath.
The hair grew longer and longer, thicker and thicker,
until the very ends nearly brushed the floor.
Jeff stared dumbfounded at the sight, completely at a loss for how to handle what was coming next.
Should he fall to his knees and beg her to let him go?
Or should he use the most menacing, savage tone he could muster to force her into silence before fleeing?
It seemed... the first option suited him far better.
The hair touched the floor.
Then, the woman's forehead slowly entered Jeff's field of vision.
Just a tiny bit lower, just a sliver more,
and Jeff would see her eyes—
which also meant she would see him lying under the bed.
Jeff held his breath. Overwhelmed by sheer panic and dread, he forgot how to breathe entirely, his eyes glued to the steadily lowering forehead.
Then,
she froze.
She, too, seemed terrified—terrified of what might happen if she really did find someone hiding down there.
Though she clearly knew that one good look was the only way to banish her suspicion and fear, she simply lacked the nerve to look...
The hair trailing over the floorboards began to lift away.
The forehead vanished from Jeff's view.
The woman lay back down on the bed.
She began breathing in great, ragged gasps.
Jeff finally realized he had been holding his breath for far too long; he parted his lips and silently drew in greedy lungfuls of air.
His head felt dizzy, and moisture pricked the corners of his eyes. He wanted to weep. He wanted nothing more than to be back out on the street right now; even in the biting wind, he could sit freely by the flowerbeds, smoking, spitting, spitting as loudly and obnoxiously as he pleased!
He had no idea how much more time slipped by.
All sound on the bed had ceased.
She... she must have fallen asleep, right?
Jeff tried to estimate the time. Once her husband and child returned, he would truly have no way out.
He was already this terrified of a lone woman; if the man came back, he would lose every shred of nerve he had left.
*She's asleep.*
*Then...*
*Should I leave?*
Jeff began shifting his body inch by inch. He had been lying at an angle on his stomach; now, he painstakingly rolled over onto his back, then began wriggling slowly, easing his upper body outward from beneath the frame.
The squirming motion made him feel like an enormous... maggot.
His left hand pressed against the floorboards, his right rested against the bedframe, and muscles all across his body strained faintly to inch himself out from under the bed.
The first thing to emerge was Jeff's head.
The reason he had turned face-up beforehand was to ensure his gaze could track any movement on the bed the entire time he was slipping out.
If he had crawled out face-down and the woman behind him on the bed suddenly shrieked—
good God, Jeff felt he would have been driven completely mad on the spot!
Creeping outward little by little,
he saw the edge of the mattress.
He saw one of the woman's hands dangling over the side.
Creeping outward gently,
he saw the woman's hair.
She had to be asleep. She had to be fast asleep. Definitely.
Her sleeping posture was just a bit odd, though. With her husband gone, she ought to have been sleeping in the center of the bed!
Continuing to edge outward with utmost caution,
Jeff's movement suddenly ground to a halt.
He noticed that her hair hung at an angle—a height that meant she wasn't lying down flat... she was propped up on the edge of the bed on her stomach, and she was holding her head up.
Who slept... with their head held up?
That meant her eyes were likely wide open, staring... staring at the floorboards just diagonally ahead.
And if he crept out any further,
his eyes would meet hers directly!
A sudden chill raced across Jeff's scalp. For a moment he was tempted to throw caution to the wind and yank his entire body out from under the bed, but... he simply didn't have the guts.
In the end,
sinking into utter despair, he slowly wriggled his way back under the bed.
The moment his head was once more shielded by the bedboards,
his hanging heart finally dropped back into place.
The space beneath the bed offered him an immense sense of security, as if he had returned home.
Right then,
the sound of a car engine sounded outside, followed by the ignition cutting off.
Immediately after came the opening of the front door in the entryway downstairs, accompanied by a boy's laughter.
The man and the child were back.
Yet Jeff didn't feel that he was finished... he actually felt... relieved.
He even found himself wishing to be discovered, so he could just bolt for it;
or perhaps be tackled by the man and given a beating; or perhaps be arrested by the police who would arrive later.
No matter what, even a cell in the police station was countless times better than this.
A flurry of footsteps began ascending the stairs.
The bedroom door was pushed open.
Jeff's face happened to be turned toward the doorway.
First, he saw a boy's sneakers—the kind Jeff had desperately wanted five or six years ago when he was younger. They were pricey, and wearing them would have given anyone a boost of confidence.
Next,
he saw a pair of men's leather shoes. Impeccably fine—not the shine of fresh polish, but the pristine quality of brand-new leather.
"The show was great tonight."
"I got a little sleepy watching it, though, Dad."
"Haha, you'll understand it once you're older. Tell you what, how about Mom and Dad take you to the zoo next week?"
"Really?!"
"Of course."
"Mom, did you hear that? Dad said he's taking us to the zoo next week!"
"I heard, I heard. All right, George, hurry and wash up, it's bedtime for you. Darling, go take your son to wash up. I'll go make George's bed."
A pair of red high heels walked in from outside.
Jeff could only think how warm and cozy the atmosphere in this home was. If only he had once had a family this tender, how wonderful that would have been.
"All right, all right, time to wash up. Let me adjust the radio; the financial news should be coming on about now."
The man seemed to fiddle with the radio's antenna. The static that had long since blended into the night suddenly surged louder, then faded away:
"...That was a lovely bedtime story, wasn't it? Everyone, wherever they may be, has a partner by their side; no one is truly alone.
"Well then, thank you for tuning in to tonight's Rojia Story Hour. Coming up next is the financial news. I trust you are all about to make another fortune..."
Soft music began playing from the radio, serving as a transition between the two programs.
*A fortune... haha, a fortune.*
Jeff found it bitterly laughable. If he hadn't believed his friend's advice and sold the house his father left him to buy a stock that was 'guaranteed to skyrocket,' how could he have fallen to such depths?
Right now,
the family of three who had been standing at the door was on the move: the father had taken his son to the bathroom, and the woman had gone up to the third floor to make the boy's bed.
This was his chance! If he slipped out from under the bed right now, dashed down the stairs, opened the front door, and bolted outside, he would be safe and free!
Jeff set his mind to it.
Just as his palms pressed against the floorboards, preparing to shove himself forward,
all at once,
his body
froze stiff.
A single realization suddenly flashed through his mind:
Just now, the woman had walked in from outside, returning home together with her husband and child.
Then the woman who had been lying on the bed all this time...
who... was she?
Wasn't she lying right on the mattress?
If so, how could the returning family of three not have seen her?
"Shh."
From right behind his head came a faint exhalation, carrying a chill that brushed softly against the back of his neck.
Jeff turned his head around, slow and stunned.
There, sharing the space under the bed, pressed almost flush against his back,
he saw a pair of legs, and further down, a face;
no—
he saw only a pair of legs, and the face between them.