Dimensional Hotel

Ever since that strange incident with the frog, Yu Sheng felt as though his heart had expanded, somehow toughened. Everything seemed a bit easier to handle—like now, for instance. Waking from a bizarre dream, he had unlocked a room that should’ve stayed locked, discovered a talking oil painting, and even sensed there was something more—something not quite right—lurking within it. Yet, here he was, calm as ever.

Stepping forward, Yu Sheng lifted the painting from the wall, holding it in his hands, and studied it carefully.

The frame was heavy, almost commanding respect, and the details were extraordinary. Intricate patterns swirled across the surface of the black wood, weaving in and out of one another like vines, blending seamlessly with the delicate flowers at the edges of the canvas. He didn’t know much about art, but even he could tell this painting was worth a small fortune.

Still, the figure hiding within the painting refused to fully reveal itself. Only the hem of a skirt peeked out from the corner, retreating ever so slightly as if it sensed his attention.

Yu Sheng leaned in closer, squinting at the painting, trying to peer into its depths. But there was nothing more to see.

“I know you’re in there,” he said, shaking the frame just enough to rattle it. “Hiding won’t do you any good.”

A soft rustling came from the painting’s corner, but no voice.

Not one to be ignored, Yu Sheng calmly placed the painting on the floor and crouched down. From his pocket, he pulled out a lighter, flicking it open with a smooth, practiced motion.

A small flame danced at the end of the lighter as he held it near the painting, his expression cool. “I’ll count to three. If you don’t come out, I’ll burn this whole thing to ashes.”

The silence that followed was tense, but just when he was about to make good on his threat, a small, hesitant voice spoke from the painting. “…It’s just an ordinary flame. You can’t hurt a supernatural being with that.”

Though there was a tremble in the voice, Yu Sheng could hear it loud and clear.

“Oh really?” He raised an eyebrow, leaning forward with a small, knowing smirk. “Let’s see about that.”

Before the voice could protest, he pressed the flame to the corner of the frame.

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A piercing scream rang out almost immediately. “No! Stop! You’re burning it!”

Satisfied, Yu Sheng closed the lighter with a snap and watched as a figure emerged in a rush from the thorny floral patterns at the border of the painting.

It was a girl dressed in a Gothic black dress that looked as if it had stepped out of another century. A white lace headband crowned her long, jet-black hair, and her pale skin was smooth and flawless as porcelain. She was undeniably beautiful—until you noticed her eyes.

Blood-red, glowing faintly in the dim light of the room. They stared at him, wide with a mixture of fear and anger, and for a moment, Yu Sheng was startled. He hadn’t expected her to appear quite so suddenly.

Even so, there was something about her that wasn’t entirely frightening. Under normal circumstances, Yu Sheng might have thought her a fragile beauty. But here, emerging from the dark, gloomy backdrop of the painting, her presence was enough to make his heart skip a beat.

The girl pressed herself close to the edge of the canvas, her red eyes unnervingly large as they bore into his, her face nearly filling the entire painting.

“Don’t light the fire again,” she pleaded, her voice softer now. “This is my only home.”

Yu Sheng took a step back, the intensity of her crimson gaze unsettling him. Something about those eyes… they stuck with him, seeping into his mind like ink on parchment. He had to force himself to look away, not wanting her to gain the upper hand.

“Fine,” he muttered, clearing his throat. “I won’t burn it.”

The girl blinked, her expression calming. She backed away from the edge of the painting and returned to its center, where she seated herself on an ornately carved chair draped in thick, red velvet. In her hands, she clutched a small teddy bear, holding it close to her chest like a protective charm.

Yu Sheng stood still, observing her. A Gothic girl holding a teddy bear—somehow, it seemed almost… normal. But as he continued to watch, something felt off.

His gaze drifted to her wrists, exposed beneath the sleeves of her dress. The joints there—they weren’t natural. There were visible seams, like the ones you’d see on a ball-jointed doll.

He blinked, his confusion growing upon realizing she wasn’t human.

As if sensing his intense scrutiny, the girl shifted uncomfortably in her chair, frowning. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

Yu Sheng opened his mouth to ask the question burning in his mind, but he hesitated. What did he know about this world? He’d only just scratched the surface. It was better to keep his ignorance hidden for now. He changed his approach.

“Who are you?” he asked instead, keeping his tone neutral. “And why are you here?”

The girl hesitated, her grip tightening on the bear before she finally spoke.

“My name is Irene,” she said, shifting slightly in her seat as if she was trying to make herself seem more formal. “I come from Alice’s Little House. I’m one of Alice’s dolls… but that was a long time ago.”

A doll?

Yu Sheng’s attention sharpened on that one word. His eyes flicked to Irene’s wrists—those strange, ball-jointed wrists—and then back to her face. Two things she’d said stood out to him: Alice’s Little House and Alice’s dolls.

What could that mean? Dolls, he understood. And given what he’d already seen today, he could stretch his imagination enough to accept a talking doll that lived in a painting. But Alice—who was that? Or, for that matter, what was that?

The name “Alice’s Little House” sounded like it could be a place or even an organization. And “Alice’s dolls” gave him the sense that it wasn’t just Irene—that there might be more of them.

Yu Sheng’s mind raced. Could there be others like her? A whole group of dolls? He imagined houses all over, each with a doll lurking in a painting, locking doors, taunting homeowners who didn’t have the key—but could be easily bluffed with a lighter.

The whole thing seemed both surreal and shrouded in mystery.

Irene’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Why aren’t you saying anything? You’re not still thinking about burning it, are you?”

Yu Sheng blinked and met her eyes. Her crimson gaze held a hint of worry. He cleared his throat and leaned forward, trying to look serious. “I’ve got a question.”

Irene looked at him expectantly. “Yes? What is it?”

He leaned in even closer, lowering his voice as if he were about to ask something terribly important. “This Alice’s Little House… is it some sort of agency that works to lower property values?”

There was a moment of stunned silence. Irene blinked, clearly baffled, “What?”

“You know,” Yu Sheng continued, speaking slowly as though explaining a conspiracy. “People hire you to hang around in houses, locking doors, lying around during the day, and laughing at night to scare people away. It drives down the housing prices, right? Like haunting properties to bring the market down.”

Irene just stared at him, her crimson eyes wide. She didn’t say a word for a long, uncomfortable moment, as if she was struggling to process his absurd theory. Then, her face flushed with a mix of indignation and disbelief.

“You… You can insult me all you want, but you will not insult the ancestor of dolls or my sisters!” she cried, clearly outraged. “We are a very powerful—”

“Then why are you haunting my house?” Yu Sheng interrupted, his voice rising in frustration. “Why are you locking doors? And what about that creepy dream I had earlier? Was that your doing? Oh, and the laughter—was that you?”

He rattled off the questions in rapid succession, his words coming fast and forceful. As he finished, he realized he might’ve pushed too hard. He thought back to the frog from that rain, the one that had somehow opened his heart and led to his… strange experience. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this painting—and Irene—might be just as dangerous. She might seem reasonable now, but who knew what she was truly capable of?

But before he could backtrack, he shook off his doubts. If the frog had been capable of opening his heart and causing him to “die” once, and nothing terrible had come of that, he could probably handle a doll who seemed scared of fire. After all, what was the worst that could happen?

Irene didn’t explode or throw her teddy bear at him in fury. Instead, she shrank back into her chair, looking a little… guilty.

“I… I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she said, her voice much softer now. She twisted in her seat, nervously squeezing her teddy bear until its little arms were misshapen. “A long time ago, I had an accident, and I got trapped inside this painting. I lost contact with all the other dolls…”

Her eyes wandered, scanning the room outside the painting as if she were seeing something far beyond the walls of Yu Sheng’s house.

“As for why I’m in your home,” she continued, her voice uncertain, “I don’t really know. I’m stuck in this painting, and I don’t get to choose where I end up. Didn’t you… buy me at an art exhibition or something? And hang me on your wall?”

Yu Sheng blinked, caught off guard by the question. “…?”