Translator: Cinder Translations
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In a small supermarket on the west side of the campus, a half-open, rather old glass door, had a poster of a Korean pop star plastered on it.
The sequined slim-fit suit did nothing to impress the man on the job. Instead, it looked utterly tacky.
The man in white suit struck a long match, turned his face slightly, and lit a cigarette.
He shook the match to extinguish the flame.
The man in the baseball cap stood on the steps opposite him, drinking from a bottle of mineral water and gnawing on a piece of dry bread.
As he stared at the poster, the man in the suit sneered disdainfully, slowly blowing a cloud of murky smoke onto the pop star's face. "Did people back then really have such whack fashion sense?"
The baseball cap man had just finished his bread and was greedily licking the jam off his fingers.
However, his face wasn't focused on the man in the suit or the poster but fixated intently on a group of girls nearby.
His gaze roamed over them like a hungry wolf.
They weren't too far away, forming a circle, dressed quite revealingly.
One of the girls, tall with flowing hair, occasionally glanced over, a cigarette held between her fingers.
"If this wasn't the dream world, wouldn't that be wonderful," the baseball cap man licked his chapped lips.
Hearing this, the man in the suit lowered his head, carefully buttoning his right cuff, then smiled, "Stop dreaming. If this were the real world, would you even dare to come to a place like this?"
"You'd be hiding in a dark basement, far from the sun." Without even looking at him, the man in the suit continued, "Don't forget, the police are looking for you everywhere."
His words seemed to drag the baseball cap man back to reality. His face stiffened, and the casual demeanor and smile faded.
He wiped his left hand on his clothes before pressing his cap down firmly over his head.
He stood in the shadows, showing only half of his chin from the man in the suit's point of view.
"No need to be so tense," the man in the suit said with a vague, indescribable tone. He adjusted his collar, revealing a vibrant ukiyo-e print inside the jacket.
"I'll keep your secret," the man in the suit smiled. "You know what I want."
"But we don't know who has the item," the baseball cap man's voice was muffled.
"Then find out. Search one by one. We still have plenty of time. The woman in the cheongsam died first, which means the chances of the item being on her were low. In other words, even if she had it, it's already been taken." At this moment, the man in the suit seemed like a different person, a face of elegance concealing a hidden monster.
The baseball cap man seemed to realize something. He looked up, his narrow eyes under the cap fixated on the man in the suit's face. "You mean someone orchestrated her death?"
His eyes, with their small black pupils and large white sclera, gave off an insidious feeling when stared at for too long.
"Exactly," the man in the suit nodded.
"Who?"
"We don't know yet."
"Could it be the woman in room 406?" The baseball cap man suddenly became nervous. "Her aura is strange. There's calluses on her knuckles and between her fingers. Could she be a cop?"
The man in the suit rubbed his chin with a finger, thinking for a moment before replying, "Probably not. She gives me a sense of brutality, of aggression. A cop wouldn't feel like that."
The baseball cap man let out a sigh of relief. "That's good."
"Hah," the man in the suit looked him up and down, speaking with playful sarcasm, "As long as you choose to cooperate with me, it doesn't matter whether she's a cop or not." He leaned forward, his mouth curling into a sinister grin, "Because I won't let her leave alive."
He snuffed out his cigarette, coldly adding, "Just like those two idiots in room 404."
"Achoo!"
Jiang Cheng sneezed heavily.
The fat man hugged his arms and asked with concern, "Doctor, are you coming down with a cold?"
Jiang Cheng shook his head, looking around, "No, I think someone's missing me from afar, quietly expressing their longing."
The fat man completely ignored the second half of Jiang Cheng's comment.
They had been wandering around the campus for a while now, walking from the cafeteria to the westernmost sports field, then taking another route back.
"Doctor," the fat man asked curiously, "Where are we actually going? It feels like you're just aimlessly wandering."
"Exactly." To his surprise, Jiang Cheng admitted it readily, "I am wandering."
The fat man was stunned, increasingly unsure what was going on in Jiang Cheng's mind.
"I've had enough of wandering." Jiang Cheng stopped walking, shaded his eyes from the sun with his hand, briefly getting his bearings, and then pointed down a path, "Let's head to the equipment room and meet up with the others."
It had been decided earlier that they would meet in front of the equipment room at noon.
The journey was long, and the fat man grew restless again. He glanced at Jiang Cheng several times, his lips moving as though he had something to ask but couldn't bring himself to say it.
"You want to know who killed the woman in the cheongsam?" Jiang Cheng said calmly.
There was no hint of a question in his tone; it was as if he were stating a fact.
"Yes, yes." The fat man nodded repeatedly.
They had discussed this earlier, but the conversation had been interrupted by a sudden bell.
"She was killed by the ghost in the mission," Jiang Cheng said.
The fat man grew anxious, "I know she was killed by the ghost! What I mean is…"
"I guess it was the woman in the pajamas," Jiang Cheng stopped, turning to look at the fat man. "She used the woman in the cheongsam's fear of the ghost to drive her out of room 407, leading to her death."
Although the fat man was shocked by Jiang Cheng's conclusion, he didn't doubt the statement itself.
He knew that Jiang Cheng never joked about such things.
"How did she manage that?" The fat man suddenly became excited. "How could a newcomer dare to do such a thing?"
"I can't answer your first question yet," Jiang Cheng said, "But the second one is simple. She's not a newcomer. Everything we've seen, from her fear, her cowardice, her screaming, crying, and even the dinosaur pajamas she wore when she appeared, is all an act."
"The man in the suit's game of keeping up appearances isn't nearly as refined as hers." He shrugged, "Compared to her, he's a complete idiot."
The fat man slowly calmed down. He thought back over the pajama-clad woman but couldn't find any holes in his memory. "Doctor," he looked up, "Can you share your evidence?"
(End of the Chapter)
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