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墨書 Inktalez
Chapter Twenty-Two
At three in the morning, Song Bunan sat at his desk, writing furiously. He transcribed all the clues related to the laboratory into a notebook bound with pale yellow rice paper. Each page was written on top of a sheet of carbon paper, creating a copy that he would later bind into a small booklet, leaving blank pages for future notes.
In the guest room, Xiao Mei had already fallen asleep. After locking the study door, he took out a lantern marked with symbols and lit a yellowish candle inside it before turning off the lights and waiting quietly.
Meeting the Ghost Messengers in the mortal realm was not something everyone could achieve; it was much easier to encounter them in dreams. Song Bunan had received special attention from them, and the specially made candle he brought from below served as proof of their presence. Placing it in the lantern signified that the person summoning them was indeed under the protection of Underworld. Although the temperature dropped as the Ghost Messengers arrived, when Song Bunan turned to grab a blanket, he saw that the two had already come.
They remained shrouded in indistinct mist, their figures barely discernible. Their sudden appearance always startled him. Grabbing the blanket, Song Bunan shivered and angrily tossed the notebook on the table towards them, saying irritably, “Can’t you at least say ‘I’m here’? You always scare me! Here are all the clues I’ve managed to gather so far; not many relate to you Ghost Messengers.”
The notebook fluttered in the darkness before quickly returning to the table. The two Ghost Messengers did not bother with pleasantries either; they coldly remarked that he should continue investigating before vanishing without a trace. The room's temperature gradually returned to normal after their brief exchange of less than five minutes. Frustrated, Song Bunan extinguished the candle and began to complain loudly about how the Ghost Messengers were exploiting him for labor. He lamented how they had seen so much yet offered no useful information and were unwilling to share anything further about those Ghost Messengers.
No one responded.
Fuming, he walked toward his bedroom, where darkness enveloped everything except for a small patch illuminated by moonlight outside. As he passed through the living room with his hands on his hips, he noticed a shadow standing beside the sofa. The indistinctness of its face made it seem eerily familiar.
It couldn’t be human. Song Bunan frowned and cautiously approached within two meters of the shadow, realizing it was wearing a tactical jacket. As he drew closer, he could see that below its waist, the figure gradually became transparent. This outfit belonged to Mighty Falcon! A bold idea formed in his mind as he recalled Xin Yi’s clothing when she entered the mountains.
He stepped closer to the shadow and called out, “Old Otter?”
The shadow turned to meet his gaze; its grayish-white face revealed no emotion, resembling exactly like the corpse he had seen in Mighty Falcon—only lacking some human qualities. In disbelief, Song Bunan approached and scrutinized it from head to toe before confirming that this was indeed Old Otter’s soul.
“Where did you go after being taken? How did you find me? And why did you only just appear? Do you remember what happened after you were taken away? This is my home; you can sit down—the sofa is specially made.”
Song Bunan swore that his tongue felt stiff as he spoke these words. After all, he initially thought the shadow was the woman he had seen in his dreams while resting at Mighty Falcon Hospital. Old Otter, sitting rigidly on the sofa, twisted his neck at a ninety-degree angle towards him, his mouth moving up and down as he answered questions. He recounted how he had been waiting at the agreed location when a thin man wearing a hat approached him to ask for directions. Out of caution, he ignored the man, but in that moment of retreat, the man reached out and grasped at the air in front of him. After that, he felt light, like a balloon floating beside the man, his mind clouded and unaware of anything.
By the time he could think clearly again, he found himself inside a transparent jar adorned with strange symbols on the outside. He was placed on a shelf among many identical jars—some were empty while others contained indistinct shapes that were hard to see clearly. In front of him was a door, and every day people came and went, taking jars, mostly carrying out empty ones. Suddenly, someone took his jar away to a place resembling an operating room.
On the bed in the center of the room lay a living person still breathing, but he could see another translucent figure standing by the window, identical to the person on the bed, looking terrified and helpless as it was tethered to the bed by a strange line. On either side of that person stood individuals in white coats who gestured for someone to bring over the jar. He was pulled out from the jar.
"The feeling was peculiar, as if I were a rag doll being grasped by a player by my head. They forcibly stuffed me into the mouth of the person on the bed. The moment I touched their lips, I fell back into a state of chaos; I could vaguely feel something tearing at my body as if it wanted to stretch me in all directions. But this time I didn’t completely lose consciousness; I sensed that at the last moment someone forcefully pushed me away, and in the next second, I found myself standing by the bed. The person in white muttered something about failure and reached out to grab me, but then a misty figure appeared in the room. The white fog enveloped me, and I just kept walking forward without caring whether it was truly forward."
"I don’t know how long I walked when that misty figure appeared again. It pointed in one direction and said to run. I dashed forward and ended up here. The person you just saw in the room told me you could help me."
Song Bunan sat dumbfounded on the sofa, unable to speak for a long time. They had analyzed what experiments were conducted in the lab based on intelligence reports: human subjects for experimentation, souls waiting for fusion, those who lost their minds after failure, and those who became someone else after success. But now it was clear that they not only captured people for experiments but also freely extracted many souls for use. Not every death or recorded demise would be investigated by Ghost Messengers; evidently, the Ghost Messenger who brought him back did not belong to those currently under scrutiny. The jars containing souls were capable of capturing them.
It was those Ghost Messengers conducting experiments themselves.
He gulped down a glass of cold water to steady his nerves and met Old Otter's gaze to ask what he wanted to do next. He recalled details from Old Otter's file: over fifty years old, unmarried, no family—his emergency contact was even a member of Mighty Falcon. Generally speaking, such individuals would be taken directly back to Underworld; what wish could have brought him here? Song Bunan took out some paper and a pen to write down requests and handed them to Old Otter, but he did not accept them.
The ghost cracked a grim smile and said he wanted to know where his murderer was now. Song Bunan relayed everything he knew about his encounters, including Copper Coin who had been transformed into an assassin for the lab. Upon hearing this, Old Otter's smile deepened—not one of joy but an exaggerated curve at the corners of his mouth that made Song Bunan's scalp tingle with discomfort. He couldn't ask this poor soul what he wanted to do; when Ghost Messengers brought him here, it indicated that this person could roam freely among humans until another Ghost Messenger came for him.
"Thank you," Old Otter said gratefully. "I’m going back to Mighty Falcon now; you should rest early." The ghost rose and floated through the window without giving Song Bunan a chance to respond before disappearing into the night. Left sitting on the sofa, Song Bunan felt a headache coming on. Compared to stuffing Ghost Messengers into others' bodies or using ordinary souls to frame another for crimes, this seemed much more serious. He could understand why these Ghost Messengers were suddenly eager for him to find information; according to their timeline, Underworld was nearing its centennial inspection.
Below there existed an extremely strict registration system; just like in life, lower-ranking individuals could easily slack off. The ranks of Ghost Messengers were much lower than those of Yama’s officials like Ox-Head and Horse-Face—they were practically at their beck and call. However, with so many people dying daily, oversight had gradually loosened; ordinary deaths were handled by Ghost Messengers. Only unnatural deaths or those orchestrated would attract attention from Ox-Head and Horse-Face along with higher authorities; they usually turned a blind eye but during inspections conducted personally by judges reviewing the Book of Life and Death—even something as trivial as a rat dying unexpectedly would be questioned.
Now with experiments involving soul extraction and confinement happening in labs while Ghost Messengers replaced human lives, it was clear they wouldn’t let any dissenting spirits go unpunished; allowing them free rein would surely draw attention from officials. Thus, these lab workers trapped souls in jars with Ghost Messengers' assistance—effectively creating reusable fodder.
The Ghost Messengers were in a panic; such a massive oversight would undoubtedly implicate many. All they could do now was to mend the situation, hoping to gather all the information regarding the activities of those Ghost Messengers in the human realm before the major investigation began. It seemed they were also unable to locate those Ghost Messengers.
It turned out there were things that even Ghost Messengers couldn't accomplish. Song Bunan lazily leaned back on the sofa, suddenly feeling as if he had stumbled upon something that could earn him some benefits.
At the same time, it indicated that they were facing a complex situation. After the experiment failed, there were individuals who had turned into unconscious weapons, perhaps even Ghost Messengers who had taken on human forms, personnel from the laboratory, and those hidden in various homes who collaborated with the lab. They also had to consider those within the Mighty Falcon organization as potential threats, as it was possible that some lab personnel might emerge from among them at any moment.
Although it was quite challenging, it was also quite bothersome.
Song Bunan had a clear understanding of himself. He enjoyed challenges, the unknown, and activities that could elevate his adrenaline levels, yet amidst his excitement, he often felt irritated. This annoyance stemmed from the unpredictability of those around him; not being able to discern their thoughts made it difficult to make beneficial judgments in a short time, which was quite frustrating. Compared to dealing with their convoluted minds, he found direct communication with his clients much more comfortable.
After all, there was money to be made.
However, if he had to mention something he was curious about exploring, it would probably be the group within Mighty Falcon. Their disdain for his industry was evident on their faces, yet when it came to professional matters, this dislike didn’t lead to negative thoughts; they collaborated wholeheartedly and communicated openly. Not to mention that their dedication to fitness benefited everyone and provided him with quite a visual treat—an act that was truly beneficial to humanity.
Song Bunan jotted down all the details he currently knew in his notebook and looked up at the window; dawn had arrived.
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