The corpse arrived at 6:42 a.m.
That alone was unusual.
Deaths that came in before sunrise were rarely ambiguous. They were accidents, overdoses, the quiet endings of people no one expected answers from. The kind of cases processed quickly, efficiently, without questions—spoken or otherwise.
This one was different.
I knew it the moment the gurney crossed the threshold of the lab.
The pressure behind my eyes surged hard enough that I had to grab the edge of the counter to steady myself.
Ling noticed immediately.
"Shen?" she asked. "What's wrong?"
I shook my head once, forcing my breathing to remain controlled. "Nothing. Just… give me a second."
The body was still covered, the outline beneath the sheet indistinct. Male, based on the report. Mid-thirties. Found dead in an apartment stairwell. No visible trauma.
Cause of death pending.
Routine.
Except the pressure didn't fade.
It watched.
"Let's take it slow," I said, more to myself than to Ling.
She nodded, but her eyes never left my face.
When I pulled back the sheet, the sensation intensified sharply—like static snapping across my thoughts.
The man's face was calm. Too calm. His eyes were closed, lips relaxed, expression neutral in a way that felt deliberate rather than natural.
I had seen thousands of corpses.
This one felt like it was waiting.
I didn't touch the body at first.
Instead, I reviewed the report again, grounding myself in procedure.
Name: Xu Yichen
Age: 36
Occupation: Unknown
No prior medical records
No witnesses
The pressure pulsed.
Not demanding.
Not inviting.
Guarded.
That was new.
"I'll begin the external examination," I said.
Ling hesitated. "Do you want me to—"
"No," I replied. "Stay. Watch."
She stiffened slightly but nodded.
I reached out and checked for lividity. Normal. Rigor mortis consistent with time of death. No visible bruising. No needle marks.
So far, nothing unusual.
And yet the pressure remained, coiled tight behind my eyes like something holding its breath.
I swallowed.
"I'm not asking," I said aloud.
The pressure did not recede.
Ling glanced at me sharply. "Who are you talking to?"
"No one."
That wasn't entirely true.
I moved to the neck, fingers pressing gently along the carotid area.
The moment I touched him, the pressure spiked.
I gasped, stumbling back as a sensation slammed into my chest—resistance. Not fear.
Defiance.
My heart pounded.
This wasn't like the others.
This wasn't residue.
This was intent.
I stared at the body.
"Did you feel that?" Ling asked, voice low.
"Yes," I said.
Her face paled. "So it's not just you anymore."
I didn't respond.
Slowly, carefully, I stepped closer again.
"Xu Yichen," I said quietly. "I'm not here to hurt you."
The words tasted strange in my mouth.
I had never addressed a corpse like that before.
The pressure tightened.
I closed my eyes.
One question.
Just one.
But the warning from the message echoed in my mind.
Some corpses answer. Others listen.
I forced myself to shape the question carefully, more carefully than ever before.
"Who killed you?" I asked.
The pressure vanished instantly.
Not faded.
Not withdrawn.
Gone.
The silence that followed was absolute.
No images.
No sensations.
No answer.
The corpse remained still.
My knees nearly buckled.
Ling grabbed my arm. "Shen?"
I opened my eyes slowly.
Nothing.
No headache.
No echo.
No response.
He had refused.
I stepped back, heart racing.
"That's impossible," Ling whispered. "You said—"
"I know what I said," I replied hoarsely.
The dead always answered.
Always.
Even when the truth was fragmented. Even when it was useless.
But this time—
Nothing.
I looked at Xu Yichen's face again.
It was still calm.
But now I saw it differently.
Not peace.
Control.
I forced myself to continue the autopsy the old-fashioned way.
Scalpel. Incision. Method.
My hands were steady, but my thoughts were not.
The organs told a confusing story. No toxins. No trauma. No clear pathology.
Until I reached the heart.
There—subtle scarring along the ventricular wall. Old. Healed.
A prior condition.
But that alone wouldn't have killed him.
Unless—
I froze.
The scars were too neat.
Medical.
Someone had interfered with his heart before.
I leaned closer.
Implant marks.
A device?
No records. No visible implant now.
Removed.
Purposefully.
A controlled death.
And yet he had refused to speak.
"Why?" I whispered.
The pressure returned—not behind my eyes, but lower, heavier.
Not resistance this time.
Warning.
That night, the dreams changed.
There were no corridors.
No doors.
I stood in an open space, empty except for Xu Yichen.
He faced me.
Alive.
"You asked the wrong thing," he said.
"Then tell me the right one," I replied.
He smiled faintly.
"That's not how refusal works."
I woke with a sharp inhale, heart pounding.
My phone lay face-down on the table beside the bed.
I didn't want to check it.
I did anyway.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
Did he answer?
I stared at the screen.
Slowly, I typed.
No.
The reply came after a long pause.
Good.
My blood ran cold.
Another message followed.
Those who refuse are protecting something.
I sat up fully.
Protecting who?
The typing indicator appeared… then vanished… then appeared again.
Finally:
Sometimes themselves. Sometimes the living.
I remembered Xu Yichen's calm expression.
Control.
Choice.
I typed one last question.
What happens if I force it?
This time, the reply was immediate.
Then you won't be the one who pays first.
I dropped the phone.
The next day, I returned to the lab early.
Ling was already there, reviewing files.
"We got an update," she said. "Xu Yichen doesn't exist. Not officially. No ID. No records. No digital footprint older than six months."
I felt the pressure stir faintly.
"He chose not to answer," I said.
Ling looked at me sharply. "Chose?"
"Yes."
She hesitated. "Then… does that mean the dead can lie by omission?"
"No," I said slowly. "It means something worse."
"What?"
"They can resist."
I wrote a new heading in my notebook.
RULE OBSERVED — REFUSAL
Beneath it, I added:
The dead may withhold answers when the truth endangers something they still value.
I closed the notebook.
Xu Yichen hadn't been silenced.
He had been disciplined.
And he had decided not to pass that cost on to me.
Which meant the next body might not be so merciful.