Li Mo's gaze grew colder, his eyes reflecting an ever-changing turmoil—guilt intertwined with a fierce resolve.
He slowly lifted his head, only to be met with a horrifying sight: countless disfigured human heads surging toward him.
Yet, despite the grotesque spectacle, fear refused to take root in his heart.
He had broken his promise. He had failed to protect his students.
No, he hadn't saved a single one.
Even Aikiri must yearn for revenge against him for his failure to keep his word.
The thought pierced his heart like a blade. Li Mo bit his lip until it bled. The blood trickled down, staining the blank portrait he held in his trembling hands.
Suddenly, an image materialized on the tablet. At first, it faintly resembled Li Mo, but as his blood seeped into it, the resemblance gradually solidified until it mirrored him perfectly.
However, the Li Mo depicted on the tablet was devoid of color, life, or expression—his face pallid and his eyes empty.
Li Mo didn't linger on this eerie image. Instead, he pulled out a sleek silver-gray pistol.
"So, you enjoy playing games?" His lips twisted into a bitter smile, laden with hatred and scorn.
His deep brown eyes began to lose their warmth, fading into a void of pitch-black emptiness as he locked his gaze on the grotesque swarm of heads.
The notebook had revealed its true nature—a trap veiled in deceit.
There was no doubt. It had concealed crucial information, leading him directly into this dead end.
"You won the first round," he sneered. "Now, let's begin the second."
"If twice doesn't suffice, then thrice it is."
"You can't die. And neither can I."
Hope is precious only because it walks hand in hand with despair.
Li Mo wasn't incapable of accepting death, but he refused to let lives be lost due to his own misjudgment.
Death was inevitable, but meaningless death was a travesty.
Bang!
Li Mo collapsed to the ground. His neck snapped, and his head separated from his body, his spine shattered. A grotesque head rolled onto the portrait.
Moments after his death, a familiar silhouette emerged from the entrance of the grand hall.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sharp sound of high heels against the floor echoed through the hall, mingling oddly with the guttural growls of the ghosts.
The ghostly entities, devoid of intellect, acted purely on instinct. The moment they noticed the "intact" human figure entering, they surged towards her like moths to a flame.
Compared to Li Mo's peak human physique, the presence of the new arrival was akin to heaven and earth, compelling the head ghosts to abandon their initial prey and focus entirely on her.
Ghosts cannot die, much like energy in the cosmos. They cannot vanish, only shift.
With a simple wave of her pale, slender fingers, the white-haired girl obliterated the ghosts, reducing them to billions of fragments of blood and flesh.
Yet, even this wasn't enough to kill them. They tried to reassemble themselves, and when that failed, they sought to reset.
But with a delicate gesture of her hand through the air, time itself froze, and the ghosts' attempts to restart were rendered futile.
The white-haired girl walked gracefully towards the funeral portrait, seemingly summoned by Li Mo's death, as if it had triggered the rules binding her existence as a vengeful ghost.
She cradled Li Mo's severed head in her arms, and for the first time, her deathly pale complexion was tinged with a faint blush.
For a ghost, however, such a blush wasn't a sign of shyness—it was something far more sinister.
Creak. Crack.
The sound of gnashing teeth echoed through the eerily quiet hall as the white-haired girl began to devour Li Mo's head. Bite by bite, she chewed, swallowed, and consumed it entirely.
Time seemed to stretch unbearably during this act, as if the world itself had come to a standstill.
When she finished, a satisfied expression emerged on her face. Her hands caressed her now slightly bloated abdomen, the blush on her face deepening.
Her crimson eyes darted to Li Mo's lifeless body. Her lips twisted unnaturally into a grin—not a smile, but something far more unsettling.
She stood, walked to his body, and placed it into a black coffin. The coffin remained motionless, as if it awaited her.
Then, she lay down inside, pressing herself against Li Mo's corpse.
The coffin began to tremble, and crimson blood oozed from its corners, pooling across the auditorium.
Reflected in the blood were countless images of Li Mo's corpses, heads severed and scattered.
The black coffin suppressed the energy, but the sea of blood filled the hall, freezing time once again.
Each encounter brought her closer to the real Li Mo.
One day, when their timelines overlapped, she would descend into reality and devour the living him.
And then, they would never be apart again.
In life or in death...
Forever together.
The auditorium drowned in a crimson tide as the black coffin floated like a solitary boat in a sea of blood.
At precisely 7:31, the auditorium was devoid of life.
The forgotten gunshot reverberated in the rafters, as time rewound and the world reset.
Li Mo turned, his gaze falling on Kira, who stood unharmed. His lips moved, but no words escaped.
After a long pause, he finally spoke.
"Kira, your hair is beautiful," Li Mo said, his voice cold and detached, delivering a completely inappropriate compliment.
Shigure Kira froze, then muttered irritably, "Could you not say such creepy things when complimenting a girl? No wonder you're single. And really, now is the time for this?"
"Also, if you must say something, at least smile. Saying it with such a deadpan expression... How much do you hate me, exactly?"
"..."
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