Chapter 164: The Ticket Stamp
Having decisively dispatched the grudge mother and child, White Cat felt uneasy. After a tense ten seconds with no repercussions, he exhaled sharply in relief. In an anomaly’s rules, monitors were only marginally stronger than ordinary people—equally vulnerable to instant death. He’d avoided rash actions, even refraining from deploying spiritual pressure, fearing any move could trigger a killing rule.
But when the grudges tried to take Wenko and the old man, White Cat knew waiting was no longer an option. If grudges took people when disembarking, the new ones boarding might target him. Should he go or stay? Staying meant clashing with grudges; leaving meant facing the black fog outside, likely fatal. Trapped on this train, he needed to investigate—or, as he’d theorized, survive until the final station to escape.
He eyed the three new grudges—workers in orange uniforms, unmarked by wounds, their faces ashen. Unlike the mother and child, they sat in the vacated seats, watching the five passengers with playful, silent gazes, their emotions vivid. Wenko and the old man, about to thank White Cat, froze under the new grudges’ stares, words caught in their throats.
White Cat’s brow furrowed. The mother and child’s words had sparked a deep unease. It seemed grudges didn’t kill passengers immediately—perhaps they were fellow travelers. But why take humans when leaving? Weren’t they all just passengers? Growing anxious, he stood, startling the group.
“S-Sir, where are you going?” Matsuoka stammered.
“To check other cars.”
“I’ll come too!”
“Me too!”
“This place is too creepy—please take us, sir!”
White Cat’s slaying of the grudges had shifted their wariness to awe. Ordinary people saw him, a “veteran of horror movie worlds,” as their lifeline. His strength commanded respect. Glancing at them, he didn’t refuse. Saving Wenko and the old man wasn’t altruism—he needed them to test the rules.
Leading the four toward the car’s end, he occasionally checked the three grudges, noting they didn’t follow. Perhaps grudges were confined to their boarding car. At the passageway between cars, he paused to observe, the others waiting silently, avoiding touching anything except Mikasa Itsuki. The schoolboy shadowed White Cat, flipping objects for closer inspection, his boldness a mix of fearlessness and flattery.
White Cat glanced at him, unimpressed. Unlike his cautious arrival, Mikasa’s recklessness was useful now, though likely a ploy to curry favor. Mikasa flashed a sycophantic smile; White Cat ignored it. The passageway’s bathroom and crew room held only bloodstains, nothing else. Moving on, he entered the next car and froze.
A grudge sat centrally—not human, with three terrified people huddled in a corner, eyeing it fearfully. Their gazes shifted as White Cat’s group entered. The three, too scared to speak, stared. “You okay?” White Cat asked calmly.
“Y-You…” a middle-aged man stammered, swallowing hard. “Are you human or a grudge?”
“Human,” White Cat replied. “You’re in a horror movie world. Meeting me is your luck.”
The three—two salarymen in suits and a young deliveryman in a restaurant uniform with a meal box—clung to hope despite their fear. “Tell me what happened,” White Cat said, eyeing the grudge: an old man with a cane, half his body mangled, blood pooling on the floor. Smiling at White Cat, the grudge ate fallen flesh, chewing slowly, a nauseating sight.
Matsuoka’s group averted their eyes, hearts racing but faces composed to avoid White Cat’s disapproval. The middle-aged man spoke: “We were seven. One ran to another car when a grudge boarded. Two ran outside. Another was taken by a grudge.”
“Outside? What happened?”
“Don’t know. They went silent.”
The man had considered fleeing but was paralyzed by the grudge’s presence. White Cat mused—the taken man was likely the screaming salaryman from earlier. As he pondered, the train lurched, whistled, and stopped. The central grudge rose, hobbling toward them. Smiling kindly, it pointed at the old man. “You, come with me,” it said, its voice eerie.
Yufuku Tarou, the old man, paled, pleading with White Cat. This time, White Cat stood still, expression cold. He needed to test what happened when a grudge took someone outside. The earlier man’s silence wasn’t enough—ordinary people missed subtle details. He’d saved Wenko earlier because he thought only five were on the train, preserving them for critical tests. Now, with more people, he saw the old and weak as expendable.
“Come,” the grudge said, reaching for Yufuku’s frail, spotted hand.
“No!” Yufuku, gripped by mortal fear, shoved Wenko into the grudge. Stunned, Wenko screamed, struggling as the grudge, unconcerned with the switch, dragged her away. “Save me!” she cried, hope flaring as White Cat followed. But he stopped short of the door, doing nothing.
Despairing, Wenko’s pleas turned to frenzied curses. As the grudge pulled her out, her screams cut off abruptly. White Cat’s spiritual pressure probed the fog but was rebuffed, revealing nothing. Frowning, he realized he’d need to exit himself to learn more—a risk he wouldn’t take unless desperate.
Turning, he saw fear in the others’ eyes. Yufuku was gone. “Where is he?” White Cat asked.
“Ran,” Mikasa replied. White Cat nodded, unconcerned. His inaction had shaken Yufuku, as intended—it signaled his control over life and death on this train, both to test rules and assert dominance.
Two new grudges boarded. White Cat glanced at them, then ignored them, deep in thought. The grudge had targeted Yufuku but accepted Wenko, suggesting it didn’t matter who was taken—each grudge needed a human to disembark. Why? He couldn’t grasp it.
Debating whether to continue, he realized each car was similar: humans and grudges, with grudges taking people when leaving. Ordinary people were too fragile against them. Deciding to check a few more, he told the group. Matsuoka and the others, despite White Cat’s coldness, agreed—staying with him was safest. Yufuku’s flight seemed foolish. The car’s three others joined, seeking safety in numbers.
As they moved, Mikasa explained the “Nightmare Space” and Ghost Train to the newcomers, stabilizing their nerves. Knowing they were in a “movie world” reduced the unknown’s terror. After several cars, White Cat’s group swelled to nearly twenty. Frowning, he halted. More people meant more souls to fuel the anomaly’s rules if they died. He’d seen over twenty already, rejecting some, keeping only the calm and clever.
The train’s endless cars unnerved him—continuing risked triggering the killing rule, dooming them all. In one car with his group, he scanned them: men, women, but no elders—he wouldn’t carry them. Oddly, no children. A clue? “Sir, I need the bathroom,” Mikasa said, approaching.
“Go,” White Cat said. “With so many people and only four or five grudges, you scared of being picked?” Grudges moved predictably; a bathroom trip might even spare Mikasa. The train had stopped seven or eight times, each time grudges taking someone. White Cat saved only Matsuoka and Mikasa, earning their loyalty.
“No… I found something odd,” Mikasa said.
White Cat squinted. “What?”
Soon, they entered the passageway’s bathroom, drawing odd looks from the group. “Sorry, sir, I lied,” Mikasa said, bowing deeply.
“Lied?”
“I made up Ghost Train,” Mikasa admitted, wary. “I never saw it, don’t know if it exists.” Initially skeptical of White Cat’s “movie world” claim, he’d interjected to test him, uncovering the lie. But White Cat’s power convinced him survival depended on him.
“That’s it?” White Cat sighed. His “Nightmare Space” ruse was to gain trust, but now, with no clues and growing anxiety, it felt pointless. He hadn’t found a testing direction, though he clung to hope: reach the final station alive. “Anything else?”
Mikasa shook his head, then whispered, “Have you noticed something strange?”
“What?” White Cat snapped. “No games—speak.”
Mikasa, unfazed by tension, grinned sheepishly. “Everyone’s neck has a small mark.”
White Cat’s pupils shrank. “Why didn’t you say sooner?”
“I just noticed!”
But White Cat’s spiritual pressure detected the lie. Gritting his teeth, he wanted to punch Mikasa—this kid knew earlier but stayed silent. He cursed himself too; as a monitor, he’d overlooked checking their bodies, never linking them to the train. “Turn around,” he ordered.
Mikasa lifted his hair, revealing a small, black-red oval mark. Faint in the dim light, it was nearly invisible. “How’d you find it?” White Cat demanded, knowing he could verify truth.
“When Wenko fainted, I saw it,” Mikasa said, fawning. “I checked others—it’s on everyone.”
White Cat inhaled. “Know what it means?”
“No.”
“It’s a ticket stamp.”
His face darkened. The stamp branded on their bodies meant they were tickets. The train carried grudges, and humans were merely fare. Grudges needed a “ticket” to disembark—boarding first, claiming one later. “Take a photo of my neck.”
Seconds later, White Cat saw the same stamp on himself, his expression grim. “I hope I’m wrong,” he muttered.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 165: An Anomaly Boards
White Cat and Mikasa didn’t linger in the bathroom, rejoining the group. Noticing their odd looks—some women, hoping to curry favor with White Cat’s strength, stiffened, fearing he preferred men—White Cat ignored them. “Pair up,” he ordered coldly. “Check each other’s necks for a stamp.”
As their leader, his command was law. They complied, gasping: “There’s one!” “Sir, a black-red stamp!” “What’s it mean?” “Will it kill us?” Panic spread.
“Calm down,” Mikasa interjected, smiling. “I told you, we’re in the Nightmare Space, a movie world. This stamp marks us as players. Without it, you’re a grudge hiding among us. Stay vigilant.”
White Cat glanced at Mikasa, impressed. The kid was sharper than most adults, stabilizing the group with lies. Nodding approval, White Cat let it slide—truth wasn’t needed now. Relieved, some suggested cutting hair to expose the stamp, preventing grudge infiltration.
A familiar whistle sounded, signaling grudges would disembark. But this time, a broadcast crackled: “Welcome aboard the Kisaragi Train. Caracas arrived. Next stop, Rio de Janeiro.” The voice was stiff, mechanical, layered with countless voices, chilling the soul.
The sudden announcement startled everyone, including White Cat. The train had stopped multiple times without broadcasts—why now? Kisaragi Train? The name confirmed his fears. The car fell silent. As the door screeched open, the four central grudges rose, selected four people, and dragged them off amid despairing cries.
White Cat didn’t intervene. He’d warned the group: when grudges picked, he wouldn’t help. Survive on your own. Still, they followed, banking on safety in numbers. “Sir, that broadcast…” Mikasa asked, forcing a smile.
“How should I know?” White Cat’s face darkened, his unease growing. He’d hoped to ride out the train’s pattern to the final station, where grudges posed no threat. But the broadcast shattered his optimism. Caracas—a foreign city. Earlier stops, with Japanese passengers, were likely in Japan. Now, the train was abroad.
Three new grudges boarded. White Cat relaxed slightly but grew grimmer. After a pause, the train whistled, doors closed, and the Kisaragi Train rolled on. Pondering, he headed to the next car, the group trailing nervously, unsettled by the train’s changes.
In the next car, five people lay unconscious, their features and hair marking them as foreigners. “Wake them?” Mikasa whispered.
“Do it.”
Mikasa roused them. The five babbled incoherently to White Cat’s ears. “Anyone translate?” Mikasa called.
“I can,” a young man said, stepping forward eagerly. “Sir, I’m Hiraguchi Yuta. They’re speaking Spanish—I know it.”
White Cat nodded. “Good. Replace Matsuoka and stay with Mikasa by my side.”
Matsuoka paled, losing his protection, but stayed silent. “Yes, sir,” Yuta said, thrilled. He spoke with the five, reporting: “They’re from Caracas, Venezuela’s capital. Like us, they were on a train and woke up here. They want to know what’s happening.”
White Cat, silent, moved to the next car, group in tow. The foreigners, confused, followed. The next car held more foreigners, overjoyed to see White Cat, clearly panicked in this strange place. Yuta translated: like the others, they were from Caracas, taken from trains.
After a few more cars, White Cat noticed no more Japanese—only foreigners. The Kisaragi Train was now abroad, a global anomaly. He sat, waiting.
An hour later, the broadcast returned: “Welcome aboard the Kisaragi Train. Rio de Janeiro arrived. Next stop, Bogotá.” Exactly one hour since the last. As three grudges dragged three people off, White Cat sensed something, looking up sharply.
A headless body boarded, a round head dangling from its waist. Veterans of the train, used to grotesque grudges, were unfazed. This one, clean and odorless, seemed tame compared to others. But as the door closed, unlike other grudges, it moved, approaching a girl. The waist-bound head spoke urgently: “Excuse me, do you know where my head is?”
White Cat’s breath caught, eyes wide with fear. This wasn’t a grudge.
It was an anomaly.
(End of Chapter)
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