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墨書 Inktalez
A wave of sadness, despair, and anger surged within me, intertwining into a sense of inexplicable helplessness. Liu recalled the events surrounding the Murderer in his notes. As an Intersex Person, he had been hidden away by his own mother during that era, too afraid to face the world.
His father knew the truth—he was not his biological child, which led to his father's disdain. It was likely that his father felt guilt for having swapped the two children; had he not done so, at least he wouldn't bear the title of a father to a Freak.
Only Wu Xiufang, who was not his biological mother, loved him. Yet I could never imagine the scene where Wu Xiufang discovered that the child she had been desperately trying to save for money was not her own. What kind of feelings would that evoke?
Conversely, if Wu Xiufen learned that the child she refused to help was indeed her biological child, what emotions would that stir within her?
The life of the Murderer had indeed been difficult, enough to bring tears to one's eyes; he had truly suffered. But that did not excuse his ability to kill or harm others. At this moment, I finally understood what Captain Shao had always said about my words: until one experiences certain things, they will never truly understand.
In this world, there are always those who share the same fate as the Murderer, yet they strive to live Alive, relying on their own strength without harming or killing others, without imposing their injustices upon anyone else. If we were to forgive the Murderer solely based on his tragic past, it would be profoundly unfair to those who are working hard to live.
I had always thought some people deserved death while others were truly pitiable. But when such things happened to Guan Zengbin, I finally realized that as long as you tolerate even a hint of criminal behavior, darkness will emerge from that very tolerance, morphing into an evil that one cannot control.
"I sympathize with you, but I cannot let you go," I said.
The Murderer nodded and wiped away the tears in his eyes. "You don't understand at all. If only I weren't so clever. Sometimes being smart means bearing the consequences of that intelligence. You know, some things shouldn't be pondered deeply; what happened back then is recorded by the King of Hell, but I've never looked at it."
"Fifteen years ago?" I asked.
The Murderer affirmed with a sigh and said to me, "You are smart, and so am I. Some secrets are better left untouched. I've started anew; it would be best if everything from before just vanished. The more you know, the more tormented you become. But lately, I've found it increasingly difficult to control myself."
I furrowed my brow; fifteen years ago involved Wu Jianguo in one way, Wu Xiufen in another, while the notes left by Wu Xiufang's husband represented yet another perspective. I was still unclear about what truly happened fifteen years ago. Now, even the King of Hell had recorded those events.
A brief silence followed until finally, it was the Murderer who broke the stalemate. "Actually, your girlfriend might still be alive."
My eyes lit up at this revelation. "What do you mean?"
He leaned against the table and said slowly, "If you truly want to kill someone, do you think you would put the knife in that person's hand, or would you simply press it against their stomach?"
"Of course, it would be the latter." I didn't understand why the Murderer would say such a thing, but I answered anyway.
He continued, "The one who captured you is Ze. She tied your girlfriend to the bed all by herself while controlling her body. Although I didn’t see her tie your girlfriend up somewhere underground, I know that Ze is the least likely to be the one to kill."
"So, back to my point," the Murderer said. "Do you think if someone wanted to kill, they would put the knife in the hands of the victim?"
I tugged at my hair and began to think. Initially, when I encountered the Murderer Ze in the underground passage, she chose not to kill me but instead scared me away with that piercing scream. At that time, I thought the Murderer was extremely mentally unstable, but now I realized she simply didn’t want me to chase after her.
Since Ze could let me go, perhaps she could also spare Guan Zengbin. Ze only needed to use Guan Zengbin to threaten me into bringing her the bowl; she didn’t necessarily have to actually kill Guan Zengbin. As I pondered this, I felt that Guan Zengbin had a very high chance of survival. If the Murderer truly intended to kill Guan Zengbin, she would have done so from the start and then said whatever came to mind.
After all, I couldn’t see Guan Zengbin's situation.
The Murderer looked at me and continued, "Let’s go. Everything is over. If you want an identity that allows you to live in peace, I must take action myself. I believe that after recording videos for more than five years, there is enough evidence to prove that I am not the one who killed those eight people."
He looked at me seriously and said, "The real Murderer has already disappeared. Once he finally accomplishes what he set out to do, he will vanish. You know, aside from me, the other personalities each have their own obsessions, and I am just the one who integrates and helps them."
"The interesting thing is," the Murderer continued, "when we stand still, outsiders think I'm just dazed. But in reality, deep in my mind and soul, we three are arguing. When we’re bored, we can even play poker or fight landlords in our heads."
At this point, the Murderer's expression suddenly darkened significantly, and his voice became somewhat somber as he said slowly, "It’s just that such days will never come again; I have finally become a person. The voices in my head will no longer appear; I can finally sleep soundly."
I suddenly felt a pang of sadness. Even though I knew Guan Zengbin was likely unharmed, I still felt sorrowful. Perhaps it was the atmosphere of this vast and dark space that affected me or perhaps it was sadness over the disappearance of the three personalities. Aside from Yama, who had to be eliminated, there was no reason for the other personalities to leave.
But things had evidently turned out this way; there was no use in wishing for anything more.
"I still can't understand one thing," I said, looking at the Murderer. "If everything was orchestrated by the King of Hell, then he must have written the story as well? Why would he choose to post it online? Someone with his personality wouldn't have such advanced computer skills. This means that the person who encrypted the IP Address must be you, not anyone else."
The Murderer nodded and replied, "I set up the encryption, but I am not the one who wrote the story."
I stared at him. "You didn't write it? Among the four personalities, is there anyone more knowledgeable about psychology than you? The stories you wrote all delve into the Victim's mind. I don't believe the King of Hell possesses such knowledge."
The Murderer looked back at me, and in our eyes, I saw panic and confusion.
"Really not you?" I asked seriously. "There can't be anyone else who understands psychology as well as you do."
The Murderer gazed blankly at me, leaning against the table. I could feel him trembling all over, but after a moment, he spoke again. "It really isn't me. Although the King of Hell doesn't like to communicate with others, sometimes he asks me questions about psychology. I admit that while I encrypted the IP Address, at most I am an accomplice to the Criminal. Moreover, I know something that will ensure the police treat me leniently."
I looked at him earnestly. "Even if you're just an accomplice, that's still nine lives lost."
He waved his hand dismissively. "That would only mean a few years in prison for me. I'm only thirty now; my life is still long ahead of me."
"What is this thing you know?" I asked.
He shook his head. "I can't tell you; this is something I can only share with your superior. While you were unconscious, I..."
At this point, the Murderer suddenly stopped speaking and shifted to another topic. "So, I'll be honest with you. I think the police who came with Tracker are already above us; they will find this place soon."
I had no idea what scheme the Murderer was concocting or what information he held that he couldn't share with me. During our time underground, only he and I knew what had happened. Gaining my trust meant gaining the police's trust.
He was a clever man and must have understood this point, but when he was halfway through his explanation, he suddenly fell silent. Did this mean there was something he felt he had to keep from me?
The first thing that came to my mind was the matter of Zhao Mingkun. Zhao Mingkun was a suspect on the Ministry of Public Security's wanted list, and the Murderer had seen both me and Zhao Mingkun. If the Murderer discovered Zhao Mingkun's identity and reported it to the higher-ups, they would surely take his status as a non-killer accomplice into consideration.
Because there were far more serious matters regarding Zhao Mingkun. He had killed at most nine people, but under Shi Huacheng, the number of dead was unknown. Moreover, Shi Huacheng still had remnants of his faction out there, who would use Zhao Mingkun to gain access.
I looked at the Murderer, a surge of murderous intent suddenly rising within me, startling myself in the process. I abruptly pinched my thigh hard, reminding myself that I was a police officer now, not a criminal.
In that moment, I realized that my self-blame delusion had shown signs of complexity, and it had been less than a year and a half since I left the psychiatric hospital.
Just then, I suddenly heard a loud "bang," followed by several beams of light shining in from around the corner not far away.
"Everyone inside, don’t move! Stand still!"
Liu's voice echoed from a distance.
"I surrender! I'm not moving!" The Murderer knelt on the ground, raising his hands and craning his neck to see what was happening in the distance.
I glanced at the sharp shards of the broken bowl at my feet.
Liu hadn’t arrived yet, but he would be here in just a few seconds.
What did the Murderer really know?
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