Chapter 101: The Experiment
At 8:30 a.m., in the Shikoku Island Special Division headquarters, after Shiraishi Teru presented his analysis, the division took just twenty minutes to summon several convicted kidnappers from prison. Ten of those minutes accounted for transport time. This efficiency stunned Shiraishi Teru, Akimura Wataru, and the other inspectors, revealing the Special Division’s unparalleled speed and authority.
During this time, the division contacted the Kochi Town police station. They confirmed that the officer in the passenger seat during the Kojima Yamato case had New Beginning as his ringtone, while Kojima’s phone contained no trace of the song. This revelation electrified the meeting room. For these seasoned inspectors, the lack of leads was intolerable; danger they could handle. Now, with a clue—even a potentially false one—they could pursue new threads.
Soon, the group gathered in a stark, spacious room containing only two kidnappers. Based on Shiraishi Teru’s theory, when New Beginning’s melody played, a kidnapper hearing it would receive a garbled caller ID on their phone. Upon answering—or after a minute, when the call connected automatically—they’d hear their own screams from 3 minutes and 35 seconds in the future, followed by a grim, oppressive melody that tortured them to death. Even ignoring the call was futile; the phone would connect just before hanging up. Once ensnared in the Ghost Calls’ killing rule, escape was impossible.
Moreover, if the victim’s contacts included others with kidnapping records, the phone would automatically dial them, perpetuating a cycle that eliminated all associated kidnappers until no such contacts remained. But what if one kidnapper had a phone and the other didn’t? Would the phoneless one die upon hearing New Beginning? This was the experiment the Shikoku Special Division aimed to test.
The experiment began. Shiori’s assistant explained, “The first criminal’s phone was purchased for him. He’s its registered owner.”
Shiori nodded. “Later, test if a kidnapper holding someone else’s phone dies when the melody plays.”
The assistant acknowledged this, noting the experiment hinged on Shiraishi Teru’s hypothesis that the Ghost Calls targeted kidnappers. If wrong, they’d need to restart their investigation.
The assistant signaled to a corner, and New Beginning’s melody filled the room. Instantly, the first criminal’s phone rang, syncing almost perfectly with the music. The room tensed. No one moved to answer; all watched silently. The two criminals sensed something amiss. The first, bound hand and foot with tape over his mouth, let out muffled cries, eyes wide with terror, struggling futilely.
After nearly a minute, as the call neared auto-disconnect, it connected. A piercing scream erupted from the phone, startling both criminals. The monitors and inspectors, prepared from prior footage, remained composed, though witnessing the phenomenon live was far more chilling than on video. The eerie act of a melody killing through a phone sent shivers through Shiraishi Teru and the others.
When the screams ceased, the first criminal writhed in silent agony, unable to scream through the tape. As time passed, an uncanny melody emanated from his body. Upon his death, forensic experts entered, confirming his condition matched previous Ghost Calls victims. As the body was removed, all eyes turned to the second criminal. He was alive.
The recorder noted this outcome: the Ghost Calls killed via phone communication. Without a phone, even hearing the melody didn’t trigger death. This was scant comfort—modern society made phones indispensable for social interaction.
Shiori signaled her assistant to hand a phone to the second criminal. It belonged to the assistant, temporarily lent to the convict. The experiment resumed. New Beginning played again, and after a minute, the phone auto-disconnected. Since the phone wasn’t registered to the criminal, he survived.
Next, the third criminal was brought in. The assistant addressed him: “The third’s phone has the fourth criminal’s number and the escorting officer’s number.”
This stunned the inspectors, especially Shiraishi Teru. His voice heavy, he asked, “Why include the officer’s number?”
Shiori glanced at the inspectors, noting their confusion. Her voice was cold. “For the experiment, naturally. You don’t think an anomaly’s ‘kidnapping’ rule aligns with legal definitions, do you? ‘Kidnapping’ can be interpreted broadly. Officers restraining and escorting criminals to the Special Division could qualify as kidnapping. Anomalies don’t distinguish between good and evil. Trigger the ‘kidnapping’ rule, and anyone—officer or criminal—could die. Rest assured, we’ve explained this to the officer. If he dies, his family will receive substantial compensation. If he lives, he gets a bonus.”
The inspectors’ breathing quickened, struggling to accept this. Yet, as elite officers, they regained composure, though a heavy silence hung over them. If the officer died… Shiraishi Teru couldn’t bear to think further, feeling suffocated.
The experiment resumed, the mood now somber. The third criminal died swiftly, and all eyes fixed on his phone. At the moment of death, it glowed, automatically opening the contacts and dialing a number. Minutes later, word arrived: the fourth criminal, in another room, was dead. Neither phone dialed again. The officer had survived—either by luck or because the anomaly’s “kidnapping” aligned with legal definitions. Relief washed over the room.
“Lucky break,” Shiori remarked, her face expressionless.
After the bodies were removed, the fifth criminal was brought in. This experiment tested a phone sealed in a vacuum bag to block sound. The result: the fifth criminal died. Even if sound couldn’t travel in a vacuum, hearing the melody triggered the killing rule. Thus, any kidnapper with a registered phone who heard New Beginning would die, regardless of the phone’s location.
This suggested one avoidance method: abandon phones entirely. The recorder documented the experiments, including video footage, which the Shikoku Special Division sent to branches nationwide, hoping collective efforts would yield solutions.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 102: A New Generation of Internet Virus [On Sale Tomorrow]
In Tokyo’s Meguro Ward, Meiko Apartments, at 8 a.m., Kamihara Shinji was still asleep. Abruptly, his bedside phone blared a ringtone. Had Shikoku Special Division members been present, they’d recognize it as New Beginning—the melody tied to the Ghost Calls anomaly. Unlike the dark, oppressive version online, this rendition was bright and lively, brimming with youthful cheer.
“Kaoruko, stop it,” Kamihara Shinji mumbled, eyes closed, exasperated.
“Big brother, get up! You’ll be late for school!” The melody shifted, replaced by a young girl’s voice, urging him.
“Keep it up, and I’ll lock you in the notebook.” Kamihara Shinji’s tone was stern, no trace of playfulness.
The threat worked; the room fell silent. Yesterday, Kaoruko’s antics had given him a headache, prompting him to confine her in the notebook for a day. He hadn’t expected Takanotsume Kaoruko to be so exuberant. In videos, she’d appeared poised and serene while performing. But Red Sound’s prior explanation held true: rules merely borrow real-world shells to form anomalies. Wild anomalies, chosen as rule vessels, lack emotion or thought. In contrast, urban legends crafted in his notebook—also rules—produced anomalies with feelings and minds.
The New Beginning melody, imbued with Takanotsume Kaoruko’s consciousness, was one such creation. Could his two deceased friends become anomalies? He’d tested this yesterday, to no avail. Humans killed by anomalies couldn’t become rule vessels, as they’d already been erased by those rules. Accepting this, Kamihara Shinji let go of his lingering regrets. He also realized rules didn’t always need human bodies as shells; intangible entities like music could serve, expanding his understanding.
He rose, washed, and ate breakfast. Before leaving, he glanced at his notebook:
Legend Points: 787,513
Good-Evil Points: 327,702
Spiritual Power: 1000+
Lifespan: 100 days
Two days ago, after crafting the Ghost Calls legend, his legend points were just over 5,000. Now, they neared 800,000. Estimating the Ghost Calls subpages, he figured at least 2,000 people had been affected. The anomaly targeted not only recent robbers and kidnappers but anyone who’d committed such acts decades ago, based on human lifespans. Those who’d evaded justice in the past were now inescapable. This explained Shikoku Island’s high death toll, especially among those over fifty.
Kaoruko’s good-evil points averaged higher than those of Little Ai or Small Eye, revealing a pattern. For non-murderers, good and evil were judged by actions. But for killers, no motive excused them—murder was absolute evil to the notebook’s rigid logic. This allowed Kamihara Shinji to spend nearly 190,000 good-evil points to reach the fourth stage of spiritual power, leaving 320,000 points.
At school, he stayed awake in class, his biological clock normalized thanks to Mito Riko’s earlier efforts. Browsing his phone, he avoided news about New Beginning. Online, the song’s transformation from uplifting to sinister had sparked outrage and confusion. Fans questioned how their beloved track had turned horror-movie-worthy overnight, with even saved copies altered and undeletable. The Special Division acted swiftly, enlisting cybersecurity experts to claim it was a hacker’s ploy—a new-generation internet virus controlling phones. Tokyo TV halted anime broadcasts for live expert panels, diverting public focus to hackers. Some students even used the excuse to get new phones, delighted.
Kamihara Shinji saw this as a temporary fix. Shikoku’s mass deaths, with victims’ bodies turned into music players, couldn’t be concealed long. Unlike Little Ai’s subtle soul-reaping “sudden deaths,” Ghost Calls’ gruesome fatalities were too conspicuous. He planned to expand Kaoruko’s killing rule nationwide that night, deeming further delay unnecessary. He’d been scouring the internet for new anomalies to personally contain, shifting from passive waiting to proactive hunting. Containing anomalies earned legend and good-evil points, and their rules could counter future threats, creating a virtuous cycle.
His searches yielded little, as the Special Division quickly tracked new anomalies. Thus, he’d amplify Ghost Calls to overwhelm their resources. If needed, he’d refine its rules. By marking odd online incidents and having Chihaya Mashiro flip a coin, he could pinpoint anomalies during the Special Division’s distraction and contain them first. He also aimed to force the division’s countermeasures into the open, studying them to perfect Ghost Calls’ rules. Ultimately, he’d deploy a near-complete Ghost Calls in less-regulated countries to maximize its impact. Japan was merely a small pond.
[Note: To avoid accusations of padding in paid chapters, I’ve clarified some details while still in free chapters. The novel goes on sale tomorrow, Friday, at noon.]
(End of Chapter)
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