Chapter 162: I Want to Eat What’s in His Bag
White Cat hesitated as the rusted train door remained open. Another figure entered—a flickering, ethereal child, about six or seven years old. The child’s face was deathly pale, crimson blood streaming from their eyes. Their hollow sockets, devoid of pupils or whites, gaped like abysses. Tilting their head, the child gazed at the five passengers, flashing an innocent smile that sent shivers through Matsuoka Higashi and the others.
White Cat stayed composed—grudges couldn’t harm him. But the other four, unaccustomed to such sights, trembled despite their efforts at calm. Wenko, either suffocating from Matsuoka’s grip or overwhelmed by fear, fainted outright.
As the woman in the white dress and the child boarded, the train door creaked shut. The rhythmic clack-clack and whistle resumed, and the train lurched forward. White Cat stepped back, not fearing the grudges but wary of the train’s eeriness. It was summoning spirits, meaning he was trapped in a killing rule. Until he discerned its pattern, he’d avoid rash moves.
Was this a new anomaly or an old one? A nascent anomaly, with incomplete rules, might have exploitable flaws, offering escape. The white-dressed woman propped herself on a seat, her legless form draped over it. Blood dripped from her skirt, soaking the chair and pooling on the floor with a steady drip-drip, making eyelids twitch. The eyeless child sat beside her, their hollow gaze fixed on the five, chilling Matsuoka and the others.
“Why aren’t you sitting?” the white-dressed grudge spoke first, her tone gentle but her voice hoarse, like torn vocal cords.
White Cat jolted, tensing as he eyed the grudge, barely a meter away. Grudges were typically instinct-driven husks, their humanity fading with time. Yet this one was lucid, her demeanor almost human, curiously asking why they didn’t sit. What was happening? Did the train restore grudges’ human emotions?
He stayed silent, a sinking feeling growing. The other four mirrored his silence. Unfazed by their lack of response, the woman gently lifted the child onto the seat. Both grudges stared unblinkingly at the group, who averted their eyes, unable to meet the gaze.
White Cat joined the others, sitting near them. Mikasa Itsuki, the schoolboy, abandoned his earlier curiosity, huddling in a corner. Fear tinged his eyes, yet a flicker of excitement lingered—terrified but intrigued. “Uncle… what do we do now?” he asked.
Glancing at him, White Cat sat on a bench. The others followed, clustering close. White Cat was their only source of security. Even Matsuoka, previously wary, now clung to him. They watched the grudges warily, awaiting White Cat’s words.
“You’re in the Nightmare Space. Your goal is to survive,” he said, noting the grudges’ inaction—perhaps they were just passengers. His ruse continued; he needed these people to test the rules.
Explaining, he framed this as a “movie world” where survival meant enduring one film. “We’re in a movie called Ghost Train…”
“Ghost Train?” Mikasa interrupted. “I’ve seen that movie.”
What? White Cat blinked. Was there such a film? He’d made it up, disdaining movies as a waste of time—hours better spent elsewhere. Recovering quickly, he said, “Good, you’ve seen it. Saves me the trouble. Tell them about it.”
Matsuoka shot Mikasa a dark look. White Cat had been their guide; this interruption risked alienating him. If he abandoned them, they’d be helpless. Mikasa, glancing at the grudges, shrank back, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry, Uncle. I talk too much—my teachers always scold me. You explain.”
“No, you do it,” White Cat said coolly. “My memory’s fuzzy. You’ve seen it, so you must recall it well.” He closed his eyes, feigning rest.
“Uh…” Mikasa hesitated but complied, organizing his thoughts. “The plot’s simple. This train is a ghost train that caught fire. For twenty years after, rumors spread of sightings…” As he spoke, the others listened intently.
Wenko, stirring from her faint, nearly screamed at the grudges but clamped her own mouth shut. Minutes later, Mikasa finished, glancing at White Cat. “Uncle, did I get it right?”
White Cat, clueless, hummed approvingly. “Sounds right. It’s coming back to me now.”
Mikasa exhaled, relieved, patting his chest.
“Mommy, I’m hungry,” the child grudge said suddenly.
“What do you want to eat?” the woman asked softly.
Despite empty sockets, the child pointed at Matsuoka. “I want to eat him…”
Matsuoka’s face paled, eyes wide with terror. He grabbed White Cat’s sleeve, whispering desperately, “Sir, save me.”
“…eat what’s in his bag.”
The full sentence stunned them. White Cat’s gaze darkened. “What’s in your bag?” he demanded.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 163: They Can’t Die Yet!
White Cat’s anger was justified. He’d been searching for why he was ensnared in the anomaly’s killing rule. Identifying a common thread could reveal its pattern. But events had unfolded too quickly for questions, and the group’s wariness—natural in a strange place with strangers—hindered trust. His “Nightmare Space” lie was meant to establish dominance, enabling him to probe their shared circumstances.
Now, a grudge wanted something in Matsuoka’s briefcase, suggesting Matsuoka might be the reason White Cat was trapped. As a monitor, he knew anomalies’ terror. If Matsuoka’s actions had dragged him in, White Cat’s fury was murderous.
Matsuoka, hearing the child’s words, trembled but acted swiftly. He tossed his briefcase toward the grudges, gently to avoid angering them. Refusal would spell doom. The black briefcase rolled to the child’s feet, kicking up acrid dust.
The child, unfazed, gleefully grabbed it. All eyes fixed on the bag, especially White Cat’s—he needed to know its contents. It might be the key to escaping this train.
Fumbling, the child beamed. “Found it, Mommy.” He pulled out a bandaged object, long like a baguette. Unwrapping it, he revealed a slender, pale arm, severed at the shoulder.
As the child gnawed on it, White Cat seized Matsuoka, eyes icy. “You’re a murderer?”
“Yes,” Matsuoka admitted, awed by White Cat’s strength but accepting it as a veteran monitor’s power. He didn’t deny it.
“Are you all murderers?” White Cat glared at the others.
“No… I’m not,” the old man stammered, shaking his head.
No lie. White Cat’s spiritual pressure, enveloping the four, confirmed it.
“I haven’t killed anyone,” Mikasa said.
Also truthful. White Cat snorted, tossing Matsuoka onto the bench, pausing his interrogation.
“We’re in a movie world. Why dwell on real-world deeds?” Matsuoka coughed, his back slamming the wall. Mindful of the grudges, he muffled his coughs.
“Explain how you killed,” White Cat ordered coldly.
The grudges had emerged from the black fog outside, suggesting the train ferried spirits. Their human-like clarity intrigued White Cat, making their actions critical clues.
Matsuoka, puzzled but compliant, spoke. A son-in-law by marriage, he’d shunned ambition. Life with his wife was hell—constant abuse, beatings, and verbal humiliation crushed his dignity. After a decade, he snapped, killing her a week ago.
White Cat’s expression softened. He scorned Matsuoka’s choice but pitied his plight. “You killed her, fine. But dismembered her?”
“My hometown has a custom,” Matsuoka said. “Dismember and scatter a body, and the soul suffers eternally in hell.”
That ruthless? White Cat mused. A decade’s resentment wasn’t quenched by mere murder. He recalled a Special Division case tied to domestic violence. Was this train a twisted mirror of that? No, he thought, shaking his head—it couldn’t be that simple.
As he pondered, the train whistled again. Seconds later, it stopped, and the rusted door screeched open.
“Help! Is anyone there? Save me!” A terrified voice echoed from the car’s end.
All eyes turned. A salaryman in a black suit, like Matsuoka, appeared, panic-stricken, as if fleeing something horrific. More people? White Cat was surprised but realized the train likely had multiple cars.
Peering into the dim car, he saw an old woman seize the man, dragging him away. A bloodcurdling scream faded quickly. An ordinary person meeting a grudge.
Other cars had grudges too? White Cat noticed the seated grudges rise as the door opened. The white-dressed woman glided toward the five, scanning them. Pointing at Wenko and the old man, she smiled gently. “You two, come with us.”
“No… no…” Wenko shrank back, trembling, the earlier salaryman’s fate searing her mind. She pressed against the wall, as if merging with it.
The old man, too terrified to speak, froze. Mikasa and Matsuoka held their breath, barely daring to breathe.
White Cat frowned deeply. “Why take them?” he asked, his first direct address to a grudge. In a killing rule, passivity was death. The salaryman’s fate confirmed the train was now killing, but he sensed no immediate threat—the grudges were the train’s agents.
His question went unanswered. The woman reached for Wenko, the child for the old man.
“They can’t die yet,” White Cat declared, standing, his face resolute.
Five seconds later, he stared at his palm, holding two soul beads. Glancing at the door, he saw three more grudges enter.
(End of Chapter)
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