Chapter 3: Vanishing Acts and Broken Vows

There had to be something wrong with these potstickers! My instincts screamed at me.

Anything strange can be exposed by science. I paused the livestream, quietly packed up the potstickers in a Tupperware, and drove straight to a testing lab. My fans were confused, but I promised them answers soon.

At sunset, I got the report. The sky outside was a bruised purple, and my heart pounded as I opened the email.

How was this possible? I was stunned. The results were clean.

Wheat flour, pure shrimp, fresh greens—no fourth ingredient. Nothing weird, nothing illegal.

Just as the old man claimed: 100% natural. But I couldn’t shake the feeling something was off.

“Is it possible there’s something undetectable?” I pressed. The lab tech gave me a look.

The tech shrugged: “Unless it’s from Mars, man, there’s nothing weird here.” He laughed, but I didn’t. My nerves were shot.

DNA testing doesn’t lie, and I trusted my instincts. But something was definitely off. The problem was with the diner. I decided to go back.

When I arrived, the sun was setting. Tourists poured out of the scenic area, and there was a long line at the entrance. The air was colder, everything heavier.

Now familiar with the place, I parked in the backyard. As soon as I got out, I ran into the droopy-headed golden retriever again. This time, it looked at me with something like recognition.

Up close, I saw the dog wore a collar with the letter “L” on it. I bent down, squinting at the tag.

I found a Slim Jim in my car, peeled it, and tossed it to the dog. The wrapper crinkled in my frozen fingers.

It sniffed but didn’t eat. Instead, it watched me with sad eyes.

Guess eating shrimp potstickers every day makes you picky. I tried to laugh it off, but the pit in my stomach only grew.

I tried to check the collar for contact info, but the dog ran off, tail tucked, disappearing behind the greenhouse.

“Thump.” A strange sound came from the side, catching my attention. It echoed in the quiet backyard, sharp and sudden.

It came from the greenhouse under the plastic film. I crept closer, boots crunching on the frost.

I pressed close and looked inside. The film was too thick, but I could vaguely see someone waving. Or was it just my imagination?

In the blink of an eye, there was another “thump.” My heart skipped a beat.

The plastic film moved. Shadows danced behind it, distorted by the light.

Again and again—a total of five times before stopping. Each thump made my skin crawl.

I figured it was some kid tossing things on the greenhouse for fun. Or maybe a bored worker blowing off steam. I tried to convince myself it was nothing.

I also wanted to see what the owner was growing and what shrimp he was raising. Maybe that would answer my doubts. I circled the greenhouse, looking for an entrance.

I walked around the backyard but couldn’t find an entrance to the greenhouse. It was sealed tight, like they were hiding something.

Back where I started, the golden retriever had returned and was finally eating the Slim Jim, whining at me pitifully. I knelt down, scratching its ears, feeling strangely comforted by its presence.

I still wanted to check out the greenhouse, so I decided to talk to the friendly old man. When I went in, I bumped into someone with their head down: “Careful.”

“Sorry, sorry, man!” The voice was familiar—the groom from earlier. He looked exhausted.

Our eyes met, and I grinned knowingly: “Back for more potstickers?” I tried to lighten the mood.

He handed me a cigarette. “My wife’s coming. Have you seen her?” His hands shook as he spoke.

“She’s not with you?” I asked, surprised. He looked like he hadn’t slept.

The groom frowned and explained: after they returned to the hotel at noon, he fell asleep. When he woke up, he saw a message from his wife saying she was craving the shrimp potstickers and would go eat and come back.

But after waiting and waiting, she never showed up, and he couldn’t find her here either. His voice cracked with worry.

“What did the owner say?” I asked, my own anxiety rising.

“There were too many people, he didn’t notice.” He sounded defeated.

“Is there security footage?”