"The five incense sticks correspond to the five days of a funeral. While funeral rites differ across dynasties and eras, I've deduced these steps: the encoffining, the vigil, the announcement of death, the condolence visit, and finally, the burial."
"After all, there's nothing else here that could be used for additional rituals."
"And if the incense is used up prematurely, everyone will die."
Kira was half-comprehending but couldn't hold back her question: "But… what does this have to do with you being in that coffin? You're clearly still alive—this doesn't make any sense at all."
Li Mo turned his gaze towards his own funeral portrait. "I can't explain it to you, but without a doubt, my blood had some effect."
"As you can see, the portrait only has my head, while the coffin… lacks a head entirely."
"So, the body and the funeral portrait are fake?" Kira speculated.
"I'm not sure, but it's highly likely they're real," Li Mo responded.
"...You… died?"
"So, you're a ghost now?"
Questions arose one after another, plunging the atmosphere back into an oppressive silence.
The truth was, none of them knew that Li Mo had indeed died—just ten minutes earlier—and his head had been devoured.
Li Mo himself was perplexed. Why was his pre-restart corpse here? Was this body from his first death or his second?
Or perhaps this wasn't his pre-restart corpse at all but rather some bizarre phenomenon distorting their understanding.
If it was the first case, then the sequence of deaths didn't matter as much as figuring out why his corpse had ended up here.
Who had put it here?
Head Ghosts were the lowest class of ghosts, with minimal combat abilities. They could only be delayed for a short time through physical means.
Their greatest danger lay in grafting themselves onto living people, blending into crowds, and then devouring those around them after 7 p.m.
And the people they graft onto often don't even realize they've become ghosts.
Still, this wasn't the true danger.
The true danger was the anomaly force responsible for Li Mo's first death—the rule that caused decapitation the moment the door was opened.
---
Wait. Who did I see during my first death?
Li Mo suddenly snapped to attention, a chilling realization dawning on him.
No... something's off.
Perhaps the one who's supposed to be lying in that black coffin isn't me at all—it's Kiana.
The enemy I'm meant to face isn't something as laughable as a Head Ghost.
This thought struck Li Mo like lightning.
In the fragmented memories of his first death, he distinctly remembered Kiana holding him, bit by bit consuming him.
Yet up until now, there had been no other clues about Kiana.
This didn't sit right. After his first death, Kiana had appeared right behind him.
This meant that every time he died, Kiana would immediately show up.
The body in the black coffin must have been placed there by Kiana herself. As for why it lacked a head? Perhaps the head had been eaten by the Head Ghost, becoming the 'me' of now.
This realization sent a cold shiver down Li Mo's spine, as if needles were stabbing into him. Even with most of his emotions dulled by two deaths, he still felt an overwhelming sense of dread.
Perhaps… I'm not even myself anymore.
Perhaps the real me had long since perished in that earlier Anomaly Resurgence.
Li Mo instinctively touched his neck. The action baffled Kira and the others.
"What are they doing?"
"Yeah, why are they all touching their necks? Are they… ghosts?"
Kira wore an abstractly puzzled expression. "Uh, maybe they're just trying to relax after being so scared."
But Shaori spoke up, her tone grave: "No, Senior Kira. head ghosts can eat a person's head and graft themselves onto the body, pretending to be human."
Kira was stunned. "What?! But if they take over someone's body, wouldn't that person remember being attacked? How would they not suspect themselves?"
"They wouldn't. Victims have their memories altered, believing everything to be perfectly normal, even if there are glaring inconsistencies," Shaori explained. "Earlier in the broadcast room, we mistook a janitor for our 'director'. But St. Freya doesn't even have a 'director'... Though, he was a good man."
"The only flaw is the seam," she added. "The connection between the grafted head and the body isn't perfect. You can feel it if you touch it."
Her words carried a tone of solemn respect. "Not everyone has the courage to admit they're a ghost."
"Creepy…" Kira muttered, then quickly touched her neck. "Nope, I've got to check too!"
Li Mo interrupted. "There's no need. None of you are Head Ghosts—I'm sure of it."
"How can you tell?" Kira asked.
Li Mo pointed to the clock. "After 7 p.m., Head Ghost ghosts become more volatile. If anyone here had been grafted, they'd have already revealed themselves and started killing. The ones outside would've broken in by now too."
"I've mentioned this before: the incense suppresses them but doesn't stop them, especially during an Anomaly Resurgence. Even with the incense burning, the auditorium only blocks their perception of us—it doesn't stop them."
"If any of us were grafted, the ghosts outside would sense it and attack immediately."
Reassured by his words, the group let out a collective sigh of relief, though some still nervously scanned each other's necks.
Kira took a deep breath. "Then why did you touch your neck? If you were a ghost, you'd have started attacking already."
Li Mo didn't answer right away. He remained silent for a long time.
"My case is… different."
"So, you think you're already dead, and the body in the coffin is the real you? That the current 'you' is just the grafted version?" Kira deduced, her words hanging ominously in the air.
Li Mo lowered his hand. "I've confirmed that I'm not a Head Ghost. The corpse in the coffin exists for… other reasons."
"What reasons?" Kira pressed.
"I don't want to explain... No, I can't explain."
Li Mo's eyes narrowed as he glanced at the headless body in the coffin. Then, with deliberate care, he replaced the lid and walked towards the door of the auditorium. Stopping just short of exiting, he tilted his head upward, gazing into the endless black sky.
The moon hung high, its pale light bathing every corner.
But it wasn't the moon he remembered.
It was crimson, like a ruptured blood vessel spilling scarlet tears, resembling a bloodshot eye glaring down at him.
No matter where he stood, Li Mo could feel its crazed, obsessive gaze fixed on him.
Like a child in a house surveilled by cameras, every corner monitored—bedroom, bathroom, living room—privacy nonexistent.
This suffocating scrutiny made Li Mo uncomfortable. Yet, after dying twice, he found himself strangely numb to it.
Resentment over lost privacy was a luxury reserved for the living.
"She's watching," Li Mo muttered, his voice heavy. "There, and here."
"There? Here? What are you talking about?"
"..."
She's right behind me.
But Li Mo didn't say this out loud. As long as Kiana couldn't directly enter reality, that was enough.
=====================
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