Chapter 3: The Boy Who Held A Head

Four in the morning.

Because it was deep in the night, the pitch-black street was devoid of people.

Only a few streetlights remained lit in the old district, and due to years of neglect, one of them emitted a piercing “kzzzt” sound above the young man’s head.

Several moths slammed into the lampshade, once again adding a hint of deathly noise to the lifeless night.

If it hadn’t been for being dragged by his girlfriend to see Ziye’s photography exhibition during the day—forcing him to pretend nothing was wrong so she wouldn’t notice anything amiss, and to go along with her—he would never have chosen this hour to come here and deal with it…

The young man pulled his coat tighter, hiding his body beneath the fabric.

A closer look revealed that his expression was twisted and contorted by fear.

Like a nervous tic, he muttered to himself, “This isn’t my fault.

It wasn’t just me…

Why are you haunting me instead of looking for the others—?!”

When he reached the last words, his voice nearly cracked.

Almost as if responding to him, the streetlight overhead let out a “pfft”—and went out.

He jolted in fright, his body reacting faster than his mind, trembling violently.

And at that moment, something strange entered the corner of his vision—

“Who’s there?!” the young man blurted out.

Some distance away, a shadow had appeared out of nowhere.

It stood motionless in the darkness, like a frozen painting.

But if one looked carefully, through the distorted black mist, one could still make out a vague human silhouette—barely recognizable as a person’s back.

Hearing his voice, the figure stirred.

It slowly turned around, finally revealing its face.

“……”

It was a frail-looking boy with delicate features.

His thin body was hidden beneath a school uniform so faded it had almost turned white.

But the most striking thing was his expression—

A near-somnambulant look, as if he had no idea why he was here at all.

His eyes, when he looked over, were an ashen gray—the color of the dead.

In his arms, he cradled something spherical.

It looked like… a basketball.

But how could a high school student appear beneath an abandoned residential building in the middle of the night?

Before the young man could think further, in less than a second, the figure that had been over ten meters away appeared directly in front of him.

That lightning-fast speed closed the distance to less than a meter—something no normal human could possibly achieve.

It was as though he moved his body by will alone, not by stepping forward.

Drip.

Drip.

The sound of liquid falling rang out, unnervingly clear in the silence of the night.

The sound drew his attention.

And when he realized what was dripping, his limbs went ice-cold, his body locking in place—

Because what the boy was holding… was a human head that bore a striking resemblance to his own.

Its eyes were open, hollowly staring at him alongside the boy.

“Do you know where he is?” they asked.

“……”

The young man stared at the lips opening and closing, as though a restless venomous snake lurked inside that mouth.

“Do you know where he is?”

They repeated the question and took a step toward him.

Only then did he seem to snap back to his senses, scrambling backward and collapsing onto the ground.

“I don’t know!

I don’t know anything!

Don’t look for me!!

I didn’t kill her—I didn’t kill her!”

The young man felt overwhelming regret.

The monster before him was like something that could see straight through what he had done.

But the idea hadn’t even been his—he had only been responsible for calling that girl out.

Who knew they’d go too far?

If he had to say it, all he did was press her hands down—he didn’t even get the chance to enjoy himself…

Wasn’t she the one who did that kind of thing herself?

What was she pretending to be, some virtuous martyr?

“During the day, we saw you standing next to him,” the head said.

“Didn’t we?”

“I don’t know…”

It was the only sentence he seemed capable of saying anymore.

Fear left him on the verge of choking on his words.

He didn’t know what to do—he could only keep shaking his head, his heart flooded with regret…

Had that girl gone to hell, only to curse something like this into existence to come and take their lives?

He didn’t want to die!

That girl’s life was worthless—he hadn’t lived enough yet!

Why should she drag him down with her?!

“Don’t know.”

The boy stopped walking.

His voice sounded like it was floating in the air, hollow and ethereal.

“He says… he doesn’t know?”

“He was clearly standing right next to him.”

“So close.”

“And even talked to him.”

“Liar.”

“Die.”

He didn’t know if it was an illusion, but in those dead, lifeless eyes, the young man saw the only vivid emotion they possessed—

Burning, seething jealousy.

Jealousy that he could talk to him.

Jealousy that he could stand beside him.

Jealousy that they had once breathed the same air.

Only jealousy could stir the boy’s emotions.

His chest rose and fell—at last, he almost looked like a living child.

“I’m very unhappy,” the boy murmured to himself, lips pressed tight.

“Maybe… we should play a game with him.”

The head said, “No.

He’ll be angry.”

For a moment, the boy’s breathing seemed to stop—though he didn’t breathe to begin with; it was only a figure of speech.

He froze in place.

At the thought of that person looking at him with disgust, he instantly abandoned the idea, reverting to that sleepwalking haze.

“He’ll be angry…?”

“So we can’t.” the head replied.

“Mm.”

The young man held his breath.

He didn’t dare look, nor did he have the courage to run in front of this little monster—even if it was merely talking to itself.

“……”

A fallen leaf spun as it landed in a puddle.

The air carried a stench of decay.

After an unknown stretch of dead silence, he finally dared to look up—
only to find that the figure of the boy holding the head had vanished.

He should have felt relieved.

But the night’s bizarre, horrifying encounter left him utterly dazed.

Even the cool night breeze brushing his cheeks couldn’t snap him out of it.

In his mind, the image replayed endlessly—the dripping head, the eyeless stare.

Was it a hallucination?

No.

He couldn’t deal with that girl’s body tonight.

His thoughts were in chaos.

Unbidden, he recalled the words that damned stranger had spoken softly at the photography exhibition earlier that day—

maybe it was that sentence that caused this terrifying “hallucination” when he walked alone toward the place where the body was hidden.

[She crawled out of the mattress.]

The words sent a chill through him.

He couldn’t maintain even a semblance of calm in front of his girlfriend anymore.

—How did he know where they hid the body?

Was it a coincidence?

Was the boy holding the head just playing a prank?

…All because he had mocked Ziye, the death photographer?

No matter what the truth was, the young man abandoned the idea of checking the body tonight.

His teeth chattered.

Even though the corpse was only a few steps away, he lifted his head and looked toward the sixth floor of the old, abandoned residential building—

That was where a lump of flesh hidden inside a mattress was rotting, stinking.

The light in the sixth-floor corridor flickered once.

Then twice.

He told himself not to scare himself anymore.

But just as he withdrew his gaze, he suddenly felt a heavy weight settle on his back.

The motion was subtle—like something climbing onto him.

Cold crept up along his ear.

A tickling sensation brushed his cheek.

His breathing quickened, a shiver ripping through him as his eyes instinctively dropped to the puddle on the ground.

Moonlight flared—

Two faces were illuminated.

One was a rotting visage, pressed against his shoulder.

“AAAH—!!”

***

“Thud.”

Five in the morning.

Inside an apartment, Lou Chen suddenly opened his pitch-black eyes and stared at the ceiling, his heartbeat spiking violently.

He recalled the images from his dream—every detail of them.

Moments later, he sat up, grabbed the sketchbook and pencil beside his pillow, flipped straight to a new, clean page, and began drawing with tightly furrowed brows.

His strokes were smooth.

In the stillness of the night, the only sound was the soft scratch-scratch of pencil against paper.

His gaze was intensely focused.

In less than ten minutes, two figures had emerged on the blank sketch paper.

One was a school-uniformed boy whose sleeves dripped with blood, holding a grinning head.

His face was a chaotic blur of lines, thick with a non-human aura.

The other—

Was a terrified young man, with a writhing, sticky mass of flesh clinging to his back.

Lou Chen’s pencil did not stop.

He continued outlining the rough shape of the residential building, the silhouette of the streetlight, and the sixth-floor light flickering twice.

“……”

After a long while, Lou Chen finally put the sketchbook down, exhaustion showing on his face as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Even though days like this had gone on for a long time, he still hadn’t fully grown accustomed to everything he saw in his dreams.

It all traced back to about two years ago, when he had been dragged into a game called Hell Amusement Park as a player.

Although he later returned to the real world as the only player to clear it, that did not mean it was over—

Because the special constitution awakened within him during the game never disappeared…

He could see, dream of, and to a certain extent, foresee indescribable entities—just like tonight’s dream.

Of course, he didn’t believe it was merely a dream.

Barring any surprises, that young man had already met a grim end.

Soon enough, Lou Chen would see him in a report.

Worth mentioning was that this very ability allowed him to discover that even within so-called “normal life,” bizarre phenomena and cases were everywhere.

By a twist of fate, Lou Chen eventually joined his current government organization—the Supernatural Management Department—serving as team leader and handling these aberrant entities.

Compared to the monsters in the game, these were far gentler—and much easier to deal with.

All the strange signs led Lou Chen to one conclusion:
the monsters from the game had actually come from reality.

They had merely been categorized and imprisoned across seven levels.

The so-called game was nothing more than a group of players accidentally stumbling into a prison—and doing everything they could to escape.

And now…

Lou Chen twirled his pencil once, his gaze resting on the boy holding the head, thinking calmly—

The prison’s high-risk inmates had escaped.

If he remembered correctly, that boy was the boss of the first level—“Jealousy.”

Who was Jealousy looking for?

…Was that person in danger?

He had to find this potential victim, protect them, and then figure out how to drive Jealousy away.

That was his duty as captain.

But beyond Jealousy, who knew how many monsters were lurking in the shadows?

This was far from over.

“……”

Lou Chen didn’t linger on it for long.

He put the sketchbook down and picked up another thick stack of sketchbooks.

The moment he opened one, it was filled entirely with drawings of a mass of black mist—shrouded in chaotic lines, its features impossible to discern.

Only vaguely could one tell it was a slender young man.

Within the past two years, Lou Chen had filled seven sketchbooks like this.

He dreamed of that indistinct figure again and again, as though it were the root of everything.

And his intuition told him—if the prison had a warden, it would be this mysterious figure.

Only by finding him could all of these troubles be resolved at their source.

But if one considered the worst possibility—

The owner of that black mist might be the most terrifying, most fundamental monster of them all.