Chereads / The God Of Reality / Chapter 29 - Chapter 4: Midnight at the "Nope" Shrine

Chapter 29 - Chapter 4: Midnight at the "Nope" Shrine

I woke up at exactly midnight. A thick, unnatural silence hung in the air, pressing down on me like a weighted blanket. It was the kind of silence that you don't hear so much as feel, like every fiber of reality just decided to hit the mute button on the world. And in that moment, one thought drifted through my mind, simple and calm:

Nope.

I pulled my blanket up to my chin, hoping to block out whatever eerie vibes were seeping in through the paper-thin walls of Hiyori's shrine. But the feeling didn't budge. It sat there, lurking, like it had its own schedule and no respect for mine.

It wasn't like I was trying to do anything ambitious here—I just wanted to sleep. To pretend I didn't exist for a few hours and wake up to a fresh morning where maybe, just maybe, I'd have a decent breakfast and no demons after me. But no. The universe clearly had other plans.

I rolled over on my futon, closing my eyes in a desperate attempt to fall back asleep. "C'mon, Y/N," I whispered to myself, "just close your eyes and forget it. You're fine. No creepy vibes here. All good."

But as soon as I shut my eyes, I felt something. A faint, icy prickle running down my spine, like fingers gently trailing along my back. My eyes snapped open, and I found myself staring straight up at the ceiling, wide awake.

This wasn't just my usual sleepless night. No, tonight was different. The room was drenched in shadows, thick and almost tangible, like they'd been waiting for me to wake up. The longer I lay there, the more they seemed to shift and swirl, creeping along the floor and walls like they had minds of their own.

I let out a groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Alright, fine. What, you guys don't have anything better to do than haunt the only god who wants a nap? Go haunt a crypt or something. They love that sort of thing."

The shadows didn't seem amused. Figures.

As I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I noticed movement out of the corner of my vision. A faint shimmer, almost like a flicker of candlelight, except there was no candle. No, this was something else entirely. I squinted, watching as the shimmer coalesced into a figure—a woman, pale and ghostly, with shoulder-length black hair and a tattered white robe hanging loosely around her slim frame.

And… she was actually kind of hot.

I raised an eyebrow, giving her my best half-awake, half-sultry grin. "Hey there. Midnight rendezvous, huh? I like a woman who's not afraid to take charge."

She just stared back at me with a cold, expressionless gaze. But I wasn't deterred.

"Listen," I said, leaning back casually, "I'm a little new to the whole 'being haunted by an attractive spirit' thing, so if you've got any tips, I'm all ears." I winked, hoping to break the tension, but she only drifted closer, her dark eyes never leaving mine.

"Right, silent type. I respect it," I muttered, nodding as if that made it any less weird. "So, uh, do you come here often? Haunt a lot of shrines?"

But as she floated closer, her face began to change, her once-delicate features twisting and contorting into something grotesque. Her eyes darkened, hollowing out into empty sockets, and her mouth stretched wide in a silent scream, revealing rows of jagged, blackened teeth.

I felt my heart skip a beat, and I forced a laugh, refusing to let the fear sink in. "Well, I gotta say, you're definitely not like the girls I usually meet. Not that that's a bad thing! Variety's the spice of life, right?"

She continued to stare, her empty eyes boring into me with a soulless intensity that made my skin crawl. I gulped, feeling my bravado slip as she leaned in even closer, her cold, rotten breath brushing against my cheek.

"Okay, okay, personal space," I mumbled, backing up a bit. "Not that I'm not into the whole mysterious, undead vibe, but maybe we can keep a little distance, yeah?"

She tilted her head, her empty eyes narrowing slightly, and for a moment, I thought she might actually listen. But then, without warning, she let out a bone-chilling shriek, her jaw unhinging and dropping far lower than any human jaw should.

"Oh, alright, we're going full poltergeist," I muttered, grabbing my pillow and hugging it to my chest like some kind of makeshift shield. "Guess it's one of those nights."

I scrambled to my feet, my legs shaking as I backed up to the far wall. I didn't really have a game plan here—mostly I just wanted to put as much distance as possible between myself and the floating horror that was currently in my room. She drifted closer, her hands outstretched, fingers long and clawed like twisted branches.

"Listen," I stammered, trying to keep my voice steady, "we can talk about this! You know, like adults. Or… whatever we are. I'm sure we can work something out that doesn't involve you turning me into your midnight snack."

She didn't seem to care. Her twisted mouth opened wider, revealing an endless void of darkness, and I swore I could see faint, writhing shapes moving inside, like souls trapped in some endless purgatory.

"Alright, that's it," I said, raising my hands. "I don't know what your problem is, lady, but I'm clocking out. Peace!"

With that, I bolted for the door, throwing it open and practically diving out into the hallway. The shrine was dark, the moonlight casting eerie shadows that only seemed to make everything feel more surreal. I could still hear her, the faint sound of her nails scratching against the floor as she glided after me.

"Oh, sure, haunt the one guy who just wants to sleep," I muttered as I dashed through the hall. "You think they'd have better targets, but no. It's always me. Y/N, the God of Reality, just trying to survive his own home. Great."

I slipped around a corner, pressing my back against the wall as I tried to catch my breath. For a moment, everything was quiet, the only sound my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. Maybe she'd given up. Maybe I'd actually lost her.

But then, out of the shadows, I saw another figure—a hunched, skeletal man with hollow eyes and a mouth twisted into a permanent, deranged grin. His clothes were tattered, and his fingers were bent at odd angles, each one tipped with a sharp, jagged nail.

"Seriously?" I groaned, throwing my hands up in exasperation. "How many of you guys are there? Is there some kind of ghost party I wasn't invited to?"

The man let out a low, gurgling laugh, his head tilting to one side as he eyed me with a sickening kind of hunger. He took a slow, deliberate step forward, dragging one foot behind him like a broken marionette.

"Alright, buddy, listen," I said, holding up my hands in what I hoped was a calming gesture. "I know I'm a god and all, but I'm really not looking for a fan club. So how about you just… haunt someone else?"

He took another step forward, his crooked grin widening, and I could see his teeth—yellowed and rotting, each one sharpened to a point. I took a deep breath, trying to keep my cool.

"Hey, you know what? I think you'd get along great with the lady down the hall," I said, backing up slowly. "She's got this whole 'undead banshee' vibe going on. You two could really hit it off."

But he didn't stop. He just kept coming, his hollow eyes fixed on me, his fingers twitching like he was just waiting for the perfect moment to lunge.

I backed up further, my heart racing as I scanned the hallway for any escape. My options were limited, and every time I tried to think of a plan, my brain just hit me with a resounding nope.

"Alright, alright, let's keep this casual," I muttered, laughing nervously. "I mean, we're all friends here, right?"

The ghost tilted his head again, his grin widening even further, and I realized I was running out of time. So, in a last-ditch attempt to escape, I did the only thing I could think of.

I sprinted down the hall, throwing open the nearest door and diving inside. I slammed it shut behind me, pressing my back against it as I struggled to catch my breath.

The room was pitch-dark, the only light a faint sliver of moonlight seeping through a crack in the window. For a moment, everything was quiet. Maybe I'd finally given them the slip. Maybe I was safe.

Then, from the darkness, a soft, chilling whisper filled the air. "Y/N… you can't hide."

I froze, every muscle tensing as I realized I wasn't alone. Slowly, I turned, my eyes adjusting to the darkness, and I saw her—the same ghostly woman from before, standing in the center of the room, her empty eyes locked onto mine.

The shadowy figure stepped closer, those red eyes narrowing as he drew nearer. I felt my heart race as I racked my brain for a way to ward him off, my mind spinning through every possible option I'd ever heard of. Then it hit me: my stash of religious charms and trinkets—gifts from friends around the world, each one carrying some form of protection or blessing. This was the time to put them to use. It couldn't hurt, right?

I took a deep breath and pulled out my first line of defense: a silver cross necklace, a gift from a Christian friend I'd met in Europe. I held it up high, letting it dangle between me and the shadow figure.

"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost—or whoever's listening up there—get lost!" I shouted, waving it dramatically in front of me like I'd seen in every movie ever. The shadow figure flinched slightly, but kept advancing, his red eyes glinting with amusement.

"Alright, so maybe you're not impressed by crosses," I muttered, stuffing it back into my shirt and reaching for the next charm: a small, black flag with the Shahada—the Islamic declaration of faith—embroidered on it, which a friend had given me during a festival in the Middle East. I waved it confidently, half-hoping the shadow would be terrified.

"Bismillah-ir-Rahman-ir-Rahim," I said, hoping my pronunciation was at least halfway decent. "I don't know if you understand Arabic, but let me tell you, there are way bigger forces out there than you. So beat it, buddy."

The shadow paused, his eyes narrowing slightly, like he was re-evaluating his life choices. I almost thought I had him… until he took another step forward.

"Oh, come on! What's it gonna take?" I groaned, reaching into my pocket. My hand brushed against the cold metal of an Ayatul Kursi keychain, which, funny enough, I didn't even use for keys. It was another gift, a protective verse from the Quran etched in intricate silver.

I held it up like a badge, letting it catch the faint glimmer of moonlight. "Alright, listen here, shadow guy. This here is Ayatul Kursi. I'm talking full-blown divine protection. You don't want to mess with this." I held it out, as if daring him to come closer. He seemed to waver, his form flickering slightly.

"Yeah, you like that?" I said, my confidence creeping back. "I got more where that came from."

Without missing a beat, I pulled out my next charm—a Star of David necklace from a Jewish friend who'd sworn it would protect me from "all the world's evils." I held it up, letting it catch the moonlight. "Alright, pal, this is straight from the Holy Land. I don't know if you know who Moses is, but trust me, you don't wanna get on his bad side."

The shadow figure hesitated, his eyes flickering as if he was reconsidering his choices. But he didn't back down completely. I could feel the pressure of his gaze, heavy and cold, like he was testing the strength of my defenses.

"Still not enough, huh?" I sighed, reaching into my shirt for a Buddhist necklace I'd gotten from a friend in Thailand. The little amulet was etched with symbols and chants that I couldn't read, but hey, if it worked for my friend, maybe it'd work for me. I held it up, letting the symbols face the shadow.

"Om Mani Padme Hum," I said, trying my best to pronounce the mantra. "Or, you know, whatever it takes to get you to leave me alone."

The shadow figure seemed to waver again, his form flickering and shifting as if struggling to hold its shape. But still, he didn't leave.

"You're seriously a stubborn one, aren't you?" I muttered, pulling out the final charm in my collection—a small Hindu pendant of Lord Shiva that a friend had given me during a Diwali celebration. I held it up with both hands, staring down the shadow with a look that I hoped was intimidating.

"This here is Lord Shiva," I said, my voice firm. "The Destroyer, the Transformer. You know what he's capable of? Trust me, you don't wanna mess with him."

For a moment, the shadow seemed to consider my words, his form flickering and shivering as if caught in a struggle. His red eyes darted to each charm I held, his expression unreadable but clearly unsettled. I could feel the power of each charm in my hands, a collection of beliefs and blessings from all around the world, each one imbued with a history of protection and faith.

And then, just as suddenly as he'd appeared, the shadow let out a low, guttural growl, his form disintegrating into a cloud of black mist that slowly faded into the darkness. The cold in the air lifted, the oppressive weight disappeared, and I was left standing in the hallway, my hands still clutching the charms, my heart pounding with relief.

I let out a shaky laugh, stuffing the charms back into my shirt with a newfound appreciation for my friends' thoughtful gifts. "Looks like I owe you all one," I muttered, patting each charm like they were old friends.

As the last of the shadowy mist dissipated and the eerie silence gave way to the usual creaks of the shrine, I finally let myself exhale. I stuffed the charms back into my shirt, feeling oddly reassured by their presence now. So much for just a simple "night off." If this was my idea of "rest," I couldn't imagine what the universe would throw at me if I asked for some real action.

I headed down the dark hallway, one hand running along the wall to steady myself as I moved toward the kitchen. My throat felt dry as sandpaper, and after dealing with a creepy undead lady and a shadow man with an attitude, all I wanted was a drink. Preferably something cold and non-haunted.

The kitchen was just as dark and creepy as the rest of the shrine, but thankfully it was ghost-free. The moonlight streaming in from the small window cast a silvery glow over the counters and shelves, giving everything an otherworldly shimmer. I flipped on the light switch—nothing. Of course. Midnight terror apparently comes with a bonus power outage.

I grumbled, making my way over to the cabinet where we kept the cups. "Just one drink. Is that so much to ask? One drink, a good night's sleep, and a day without ghosts creeping up on me?"

As I poured myself a glass of water, the faint sound of footsteps echoed from somewhere down the hall. I froze, my ears straining to catch any sign of movement. But after a few seconds, the sound faded, and I let myself relax. "Probably just the wind," I muttered, trying to convince myself.

I took a long, satisfying gulp, letting the cool water wash away the remnants of the night's horror. It was amazing how something as simple as a drink could make everything seem a little more normal, a little less like I was living in a haunted house.

As I leaned against the counter, savoring the silence, I couldn't help but chuckle to myself. "If only my old friends could see me now," I muttered, thinking about all the times they'd teased me for carrying so many random charms and religious trinkets. "Guess they actually came in handy."

I poured myself another glass, my mind wandering to the ridiculous collection of charms and trinkets I'd gathered over the years. Each one had a story—a late-night adventure in a foreign city, a celebration with friends from distant lands, a gift from someone who swore it would protect me. Funny how these little pieces of different beliefs had ended up all in one place, and funnier still that they'd actually done the trick against tonight's terror parade.

I raised my glass in a mock toast to the charm collection resting against my chest. "Here's to all the gods, saints, spirits, and whatever else might be listening out there," I said with a smirk. "Thanks for bailing me out tonight. I owe you one."

The silence of the shrine wrapped around me, calmer now, less oppressive. I could almost pretend the whole night had been a weird dream—a feverish hallucination brought on by whatever strange concoction Kuchisake had given me. But the faint chill in the air, the prickling sensation along my skin, told me otherwise. This was no dream. Just another night in the life of the God of Reality, where "normal" was as real as a unicorn.

I took one last sip, savoring the cool water, before setting the glass down with a contented sigh. "Alright, enough midnight theatrics. Time to get some actual sleep."

Just as I turned to leave the kitchen, I caught a glimpse of myself in the window's reflection. Disheveled hair, eyes slightly wild from the adrenaline, the faint lines of exhaustion etched across my face. I looked like a guy who'd just survived a haunted house. But there was something else there too—a glint in my eyes, a spark of defiance, like I was ready for whatever came next.

"Bring it on, ghosts," I muttered to my reflection, giving myself a cocky grin. "You can't keep me down that easy."