Charlie stared in disbelief at the box's contents.
Could this writhing, grotesque thing really be meant for consumption?
The slimy, twisting mass inside looked like something out of a nightmare, yet here it was, presented to him as if it were completely normal.
The server, seemingly calm, returned behind the counter as if nothing had happened. With practiced ease, she began preparing the two cups of Coffee that Charlie had ordered, working alongside her colleague.
Charlie's eyes followed her movements, watching as she placed a shaker under the spigot of a large thermos and turned it on.
What he saw next made his stomach churn. Instead of the expected Coffee or water, a thick, viscous liquid, dark as night and sluggish in its flow, oozed from the spigot. It was as though the very essence of the tentacle-like thing in the box was being poured into the container—an unsettling mixture of what looked like blood and ink.
The liquid hit the bottom of the pot with a sickening squelch, congealing into a thick, paste-like mass. The stench was unmistakable—metallic and pungent, the sharp scent of blood cutting through the air, mingling with the other aromas in the shop. Yet the server remained unfazed, casually swirling the shaker as if she were blending a simple, everyday drink.
Charlie immediately turned his head away, trying to process what he was witnessing.
He quickly realized that something was terribly wrong here. The unsettling scene before him screamed of infection—some kind of contamination had taken over this place.
But a small part of Charlie's mind urged caution. After everything he had experienced—transmigration, secret government operations—he knew better than to trust his eyes completely. It was possible, however unlikely, that this could be some sort of hallucination or trick of the mind.
But the odds were slim. Charlie knew he was special, immune to certain things that might affect others. The idea that he could be hallucinating was far-fetched.
Regardless, there was no time to dwell on the possibilities. The priority was clear: he needed to get out of there, and fast. But his exit wouldn't be as easy as he hoped.
As soon as he rose from his seat and took a few steps toward the door, a smiling server appeared in front of him, blocking his path. Her smile, which might have seemed warm and inviting under different circumstances, now sent a shiver down his spine. It was too perfect, too calm—like a mask concealing something sinister.
Despite the growing sense of unease, Charlie wasn't one to panic easily.
He wasn't the same naive, aimless person he used to be. After days of intense training and missions, his physical condition had improved dramatically. He had gained fighting skills, honed reflexes, and even superhuman abilities. He could hold his own against threats that would send most people running in fear.
With the strength of a super soldier and the combat prowess of a seasoned warrior, Charlie knew he could take down ordinary infected people without breaking a sweat. Self-defense was the least of his worries.
"I'm Sorry, sir, but your coffee is ready," "the server said, her voice sweet yet unsettling.
"Hold on to it for a moment. I need to make a quick phone call," Charlie replied calmly, keeping his voice steady. I'll be back soon."
Charlie preferred to avoid a confrontation if possible. He figured he could slip away quietly and return later, better equipped to deal with whatever was happening here.
But as he spoke, he noticed something disturbing. All the other customers in the shop had risen from their seats simultaneously as if they were marionettes controlled by an unseen hand.
They stared at him with vacant eyes, their expressions blank yet somehow filled with an unspoken menace. It was as if their very souls had been drained, leaving behind nothing but hollow shells.
A chill ran down Charlie's spine. He had seen scenes like this in movies and shows, but experiencing it in real life was a different story altogether. It was surreal, like stepping into a nightmare.
Thanks to his countless battles, Charlie quickly shifted into combat mode. He assessed the situation, mapping out potential escape routes in his head.
With the strength and skills he had acquired, Charlie was confident he could take down everyone in the room if it came to that. But considering the possibility of surveillance cameras and witnesses, he preferred a more discreet approach.
If he moved quickly, he could incapacitate two or three targets and break through the window to escape. With any luck, he could avoid a full-blown confrontation with the infected and deal with any repercussions from the Service Division later.
But then, something unexpected happened.
The lights went out, plunging the shop into darkness.
Charlie's breath caught in his throat. He wasn't used to being the one caught off guard. Usually, he was the one who turned out the lights on others, not the other way around.
The lights flickered back on for a brief moment, just long enough for Charlie to glimpse a figure standing by the door.
It was a woman, or at least it appeared to be. She had pale skin, but her face was mostly obscured by long, dark hair that hung in delicate strands, giving her an eerie, ghostly appearance. She wore a red coat, the fabric dark and heavy as if soaked in blood.
Charlie noticed that all the infected around him had turned to face the door, their empty eyes now focused on the newcomer.
The lights flickered again, and when they came back on, the woman was gone.
Charlie's heart raced. In that brief moment of darkness, something had changed. The woman had moved—no, she had vanished from the doorway.
And then, in the next instant, she was right before him.
No one saw how she had moved so quickly. It was as if she had teleported, crossing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. One moment, she had been by the door; the next, she was standing inches away from Charlie.
He instinctively took two steps back, his fists clenching in readiness, but something felt off. This wasn't following the usual horror movie script.
In ghost movies, when a female ghost suddenly appears right in front of the protagonist, typically, they would reveal a terrifying face to make the hero scream in terror. But this ghost—this woman—was different. She had her back to him.
Yes, she stood with her back to Charlie, facing the waiter who had blocked his path.
The lights flickered off again. There was a sickening thud, like the sound of a blunt object smashing into flesh.
When the lights came back on, the waiter was flying through the air, crashing into a dining table with enough force to shatter it. The woman in red still stood in front of Charlie as if she hadn't moved at all.
As strange as it may sound, Charlie suddenly felt a bizarre sense of security. Despite her grotesque, eerie appearance, the sight of the woman's blood-red back brought him an inexplicable feeling of protection.
The other infected people began to move as well.
Their expressions remained mechanical, almost robotic, but they all started closing in on Charlie, their movements eerily synchronized.
The woman in red finally made a visible movement, but not like a normal person would. She seemed to glide rather than walk, her movements smooth and graceful, as if she were floating above the ground. Her clothes rippled gently with each motion, giving the impression that she was weightless. Despite the elegance of her movements, every strike she delivered sent infected people flying as if they were mere ragdolls.
At first glance, her actions did not resemble combat—they looked more like a dance, a bloody ballet. Her long black hair swirled around her, partially obscuring her pale, ghastly face. The way she moved was both mesmerizing and terrifying.
But what struck Charlie the most was the realization that she seemed to be...protecting him.
It sounded absurd, even to himself, but there was no denying it. She moved in a calculated pattern, keeping herself between Charlie and the infected. Her every move was designed to shield him from harm.
This only deepened the mystery.
What did this mean? Why was she defending him?
Could it be that this strange, blood-soaked woman was somehow on his side? It seemed impossible, but the evidence was right before his eyes.
The fight didn't last long. Within moments, all the infected in the shop had been neutralized, their bodies strewn across the floor. The woman, now drenched in blood, cast a final glance at Charlie before retreating.
Charlie then noticed another figure standing in the doorway.
A small, delicate girl with a cute, innocent appearance watched him intently, her head tilted in curiosity.
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