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墨書 Inktalez
It was indeed another dark dream, but this time the setting was unfamiliar to him.
A room without a visible door, with a window barred by iron grilles, and a familiar figure standing in front of it.
It was the one who had chased him and Shui Su last night from the east.
Song Bunan found himself sitting in a chair, with a cushion beneath him. This was an unusual sight. He could feel the other person's gaze fixed on him, a very direct stare that was more than just an appraisal.
The Ghost Messenger rarely appeared before him in such a clear image; without the layer of hazy black mist that usually surrounded them, they looked somewhat unsettling. Last night, he had only caught a glimpse of those green eyes and had been quite frightened. Now that those two green voids were not right in front of him, he felt less afraid.
“Um…” He licked his dry lips, wanting to ask something but unsure of what to say. The sound clearly attracted the other’s attention, and the shadow slowly approached him.
“Big brother, although I don’t know you, I think you’ve definitely got the wrong person.” Song Bunan spoke rapidly to express his thoughts and then glanced around, hoping to find something to use for escape or concealment.
However, in this room, the only thing he could use to "hide" was the chair he was sitting on. Who would put many things in an interrogation room? The answer was no one. Song Bunan abandoned the idea of escaping and patiently waited for the big brother to come closer.
“You're very clever. You possess resources that all Underworld Messenger lack and are well-known among many Ghost Messengers.” The Ghost Messenger spoke in a normal tone, with perfect intonation. Song Bunan stared at them, beginning to speculate about what made them “abnormal.”
“What are you thinking about, Mr. Song?” The other person accepted his gaze calmly, stopping about a meter away from him.
Having had his identity exposed made it difficult for him to joke around or try to evade the situation. He straightened up and replied, “I’m contemplating whether your voice is something you acquired after gaining a new body or if it came after abandoning your Ghost Messenger identity.”
The green eyes reappeared as the figure slowly crouched down to meet his gaze and extended their hand to examine their own body. He could sense that they were pondering how to respond, though whether their thoughts were genuine remained questionable.
“We have never interacted directly, but I have always heard news of you from—colleagues back then.” They deliberately used modern terminology, indicating a slight awkwardness.
Song Bunan crossed his legs and smiled, saying it was indeed special that he could hear such things.
“Good!” He laughed heartily as he stood up, stepping closer to him and leaning down to meet his gaze with an intimidating intensity. From the green eyes of the other, Song Bunan could see the pupils that belonged to a human soul. “You speak boldly and fearlessly, just like everyone else. I’m curious what makes you unafraid even of a Ghost Messenger.”
At that moment, Song Bunan felt all his fear dissipate, replaced by a sense of indifference. He mimicked the other’s gaze and replied with the most confident expression he could muster, “You’re not as scary as ghosts; you’re just an alternative worker.”
This response pleased him greatly, and the green eyes dimmed slightly as they regarded him in a more normal state. “I like people like you.”
“But I don’t like you.” Song Bunan’s expression turned cold as he caught a whiff of the strange stench emanating from the Ghost Messenger’s body—a scent only the dead would possess. “You brought me here because you want my body, right?”
This was not a rhetorical question. He had figured it out almost instantly when the other leaned in closer. A Ghost Messenger who had already assumed control of a laboratory was no longer bound by the rules of Ghost Messengers and might have successfully acquired a human body. At this point, seeking him out could only mean one thing: wanting to exchange bodies.
“Clever, but you’ve only guessed half of it.” He appeared relaxed and cheerful as he sat down on the ground. His legs, revealed beneath his cloak, were clad in a Patient Gown. He unabashedly rolled up the pant leg to show him; his pale skin was covered in dark spots, some of which were already festering.
“It’s difficult for us to find a suitable body. While we can blend in, we cannot use it for long periods. This body is one I swapped into just half a month ago; I was particularly happy when I successfully integrated with it, but look—it's falling apart again.” His tone was filled with regret, but not for this body.
“The person you were with last night wasn’t impressive; judging by their skills, they’re likely connected to those below. Initially, my target was him, but he turned out too weak. As for you, I can’t make a move; an obvious target would bring trouble. Sharing that red thread with you would be quite nice. Just let him go for me.”
Song Bunan couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh. He extended his own hand adorned with a red thread, shaking it to indicate his unwillingness to comply.
“No matter how you put it, he’s a person, not merchandise. Hand him over? You don’t have that much clout to take someone from me. If Miss Lin Ling’s strategy failed, why not just come directly to me? You certainly have some ideas.” The fear of the unknown is instinctual, but once the unknown is seen through, only fearlessness remains.
Since this individual was bound within a human body as a wandering soul, it no longer mattered whether he had once been a Ghost Messenger. His dreams could be described as soul-exiting or connected to another world; in any case, as long as there were other souls present in the dream realm, it would be the best place for him.
“How about we make a deal? I’ll provide you with any style you prefer for selection and then transfer his soul into it—both parties benefit.” The other spoke arrogantly as if bestowing a favor.
This time it was Song Bunan who stood up to look down at him. He knew very well that the other couldn’t do anything to him; after all, this room had begun to change under his influence.
"I'm sorry, I am the Original Enthusiast. You must have realized by now that in this place, I am stronger than you." He made an exaggerated gesture, raising his hand to make the chair behind him disappear, and snapped his fingers to open a door in the room. "My dream realm and the soul-exiting experience with friends are two different systems. If you need to threaten me, please revert to my state from last night."
Unlike the Restriction, in the dream realm composed of living souls, his spirit resembled half a Ghost Messenger, exerting an inescapable pressure on other souls derived from living beings. This was a power granted to him by the Ghost Messenger.
Through this conversation, he understood why the laboratory's experiments had not ceased until now; living beings and souls were continuously captured as test subjects. The act of exchanging souls had succeeded, but finding a suitable body proved exceedingly difficult. Those who could not successfully merge would only end up decaying and rotting away.
But why had this Ghost Messenger sought him out for a conversation? If they truly wanted Xin Yi's body, they had many ways to take him without alarming anyone.
Song Bunan successfully left the room and discovered that the scene before him was not the fourth floor as he had imagined. The decor resembled a tunnel in the mountains, with a flat ceiling adorned with many bright light bulbs.
He realized he was underground. Song Bunan quickly understood that he had been brought there; the light from the window came from the ceiling lights. The elevator was clearly still just for show. He found a safe staircase and saw another nightmare's corpse around a corner.
However, this time, the method of death was familiar to him. The long neck killed by strange symbols had turned into a layer of skin, and its hollow eyes seemed to move with his actions, all its teeth gone.
It felt good to have someone clean up after this. He ran up confidently and finally saw a sign indicating the exit on the first floor after climbing a long flight of stairs.
But since his dormitory was on the second floor, Song Bunan pondered whether it would be better to go out and scout the situation or simply return to his dormitory body and continue sleeping without a care.
"Stop thinking! Go to the first floor and break the Restriction." A familiar voice echoed down from above, halting Song Bunan's attempt to sleep again. It vanished abruptly amidst his complaints.
The door was covered with countless photographs, all of which had their eyes closed. Song Bunan picked up a nametag from the ground—he didn’t know whose it was—and leaned against the glass like a janitor, starting to scrape off the photos.
Clearly, his friends had already cleaned up once, at least allowing those trapped souls within the Restriction to leave their photographs. This made his job much simpler.
The Restriction typically had double insurance: items serving as vessels and ghosts trapped within those items for utilization. Once the ghosts were released and only the items remained, the Restriction became exceedingly fragile. When the items were also cleared away, the Restriction would be completely broken and could no longer do anything.
The task of clearing the photos was simpler than expected. Before long, Song Bunan saw the entire entrance spotless, and the fallen photos had turned to dust on the ground.
Moonlight streamed through the glass doors, and shadows began to appear around him. With the Restriction and nightmares gone, the spirits that were meant to be here could return at any time. Although they were still trapped in the hospital and unable to leave, at least they would no longer face any threats.
In the crowd, Song Bunan spotted a familiar woman. He hurried after her, wanting to ask how she had managed to find him in the Mighty Falcon hospital.
This time, the Faceless Woman stood before him without any weapons, silently allowing him to inquire without uttering a word. Facing her silence, Song Bunan pondered for a moment before arriving at a conclusion. "They deliberately erased your face."
The woman acknowledged his conclusion with a slight nod and gestured for him to take her hand before vanishing from sight. Song Bunan searched through the crowd but could no longer see her figure.
Take her hand. Was she trying to tell him that someone had specifically brought her out back then? Song Bunan took a deep breath and began to analyze who possessed such remarkable abilities to take a bound spirit out and then bring it back.
First of all, this person could not be one of the Ghost Messengers here.
It seemed that besides the Ghost Messengers and Underworld Messenger, there were other extraordinary individuals in this place.
"This is getting more and more interesting," Song Bunan thought as he walked toward the dormitory on the second floor. As he approached the door, a force pulled him inside. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself back in reality.
Xin Yi lay beside him, already fast asleep, with a red string on the hand that was closest to him—the same one she had tied around his wrist earlier.
Song Bunan couldn't help but smile, thinking how impressive the person he liked truly was; others felt the same way and wanted to win her over too.
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