The Man Who Hunts Ghosts

The air was thick with decay, the kind that seeps into the walls of forgotten places.

ACP Devansh Mehra, the head of the special team, stepped into the abandoned apartment, his boots echoing across the marble floor coated in a fine layer of dust.

The old Chandni Chowk building had been untouched for nearly seven years — until tonight.

The call had come in an hour ago. A tenant had complained about an unbearable stench leaking from Apartment 401, despite the unit being unoccupied for years. The maintenance team had broken open the door, only to stumble upon something grotesque, something that had no right to exist in a city drowning in the present.

A corpse. Frozen solid.

Not decomposed. Not rotting. Frozen.

Devansh's fingers flexed inside his gloves as he surveyed the scene. The one-bedroom apartment was bare except for a single rusting bathtub in the center of the room. Inside, beneath a glassy layer of ice, lay the woman.