Chapter 92 Connecting Spaces (Added a prelude to the next dungeon) ...
You gripped that strand of hair tightly, connecting it to the black hair the ghost bride had given you.
The moment the black silk touched your hand, it transformed into some kind of offensive tool, but it possessed its own spirit, as if carrying the will of the ghost bride, and would respond to your thoughts to a certain extent.
For example, right now, it follows that single strand of hair, drifting straight ahead, beginning to guide you in the direction of the hair's owner.
"Um, the two of us..." Xiao Dong seemed a little confused, but he wanted to call out to you as you were about to leave in a hurry.
"I wish you all the best in your upcoming dungeons. I'm also very grateful for your help in this dungeon. That's all for now, I have to go back." You smiled at them, waved, and followed Qing Si.
As you jog along, your steps gradually become... hesitant.
Because the path before you clearly leads to the place you know best.
—Your dormitory.
This is absurd.
The liquidators are here.
How is that possible?
You barely know how you got back to the dormitory building. All you know is that it's not yet the end of afternoon classes, and there's only the usual quiet—the building manager downstairs is dozing off with his head down, and the lights in the stairwell are flickering as if they might go out at any moment… These things flash by in front of you like pictures.
Until you hold that long, thin strand of hair, looking at the ordinary room number on the dormitory door, not only does your fingertip go numb, your whole body goes numb.
Your hand movements were almost unconscious; you were just habitually inserting the key into the lock, and the moment you turned it, your back involuntarily stiffened.
The liquidator can't be in your room. If he were, why would he wait until you're outside to make his move?
Where else could it be? Is it somewhere related to your room?
The dormitory door clicked open, and you pushed it open and entered. The room was eerily quiet, everything was exactly as it was when you left, and there were no signs of it being disturbed.
But you know, the scariest thing isn't someone breaking in, but that he never needed to "break in."
You step into the room, your heart pounding uncontrollably. Your dorm room is ordinary: a table, a bed, a wardrobe, and a tapestry hanging on the wall.
Your gaze lingers on that tapestry.
—From the very first day you moved in, you felt something was off about it.
The tapestry is dark in color, with an old neon-style pattern depicting a hazy mountain forest. Its surface is slightly yellowed, as if it were left over from a long time ago.
But you never touched it.
Subconsciously, you're afraid to touch it.
That sense of unease is like an unwitting alarm, preventing you from "revealing" something.
Of course, you obediently didn't touch it, treating it as a decoration in the dormitory that didn't need to be paid attention to.
But now, you probably know.
You gripped the ghost bride's black hair tightly, pinched the purger's hair, and without hesitation reached out to lift the tapestry—
There was a small, dark hole behind it.
You were stunned.
Chills originate from the heart.
That's disgusting.
Who knows how many nights, there might be an ear pressed against this spot, eavesdropping on your bored self-talk when you're alone in the room.
Those things you do because you're afraid of not talking to others for too long—talking to yourself, babbling out what you're going to do and what you're thinking.
Hmph. No wonder he always manages to find the perfect opportunity to attack you again and again.
Is the other party there right now?
You put the tapestry down and gently pressed it against your ear.
From over there came the groans and suppressed gasps of an injured man.
The person living next door is—
Your thoughts drift back to more than twenty days ago, to the first person you met whom you mistook for a local.
A male teacher you find to be overly domineering and prone to nitpicking.
"Although the liquidators are all outsiders, many of them no longer possess the characteristics of an outsider 'human.' In other words, they can no longer go back and can only be used by the copy consciousness," Xiaoming explained.
interesting.
This person has really played a very big game, and is also quite arrogant. He showed up to confront you on the very first day, and he has enough patience to observe and wait for the right opportunity.
There's just one thing you haven't figured out yet: the hole in the wall couldn't have been made by him later, and how could it be such a coincidence that he happened to live right next to you?
Let's not think about this for now.
You've made sure the other person is seriously injured. It seems that although the backlash from the distorted rules didn't finish him off, it still hurt him badly.
He probably didn't notice your return, so this time, the opportunity is in your hands.
First of all, a dormitory is a safe space that belongs to you, that is indisputable.
If he could tamper with your dorm room, you'd be finished long ago. Or perhaps you quickly tamed your room, imposing your own rules that he can hardly change.
So, he drilled a hole in your wall, and although the spaces are connected, he was unable to turn this place into his domain.
In other words, you still retain the "rule-setting power" here.
A cold smile slowly crept onto your lips.
“Now it’s my turn, the liquidator.”
You don't know exactly how the liquidator was able to tamper with the rules of those instance scenarios, but since he can use the rules to hunt you, this time... you can also use the rules of your own small space to completely counterattack him.
You slowly walk to the table, open the drawer, and rummage through the various materials you like to collect, whether you have something to do or not.
You need to devise a set of rules that conform to Japanese social customs and stereotypes to completely restrain the purgers.
—A rule he could neither violate nor escape.
Your thoughts race, and all the experiences you've seen on the forum and personally gone through begin to surface in your mind.
—This is also thanks to the fact that there are no explicit rules in this instance, and everything needs to be understood and figured out by outsiders themselves, which gives you more room to maneuver.
Your finger slowly stops on a book about Japanese living culture, and a thought suddenly flashes through your mind: In Japan, traditionally, women and men must live in separate spaces.
You recall old customs from traditional families, and even in some conservative neon-style hotels, similar rules still exist:
Men are not allowed to enter women's living spaces at will.
Women have their own "boudoirs," and outsiders are not allowed to peek in without permission.
In certain areas, only women are allowed to enter; otherwise, they are considered unclean or disrespectful.
Your gaze gradually turned cold, and the corners of your mouth slowly lifted.
If the liquidator uses the shared space to monitor and listen to you, and might even use it to stuff some unknown and terrible things into your daily life, then you can simply change the rules of this space to make it an area they cannot enter.
You close the book, a glint of light flashing in your eyes.
You want to turn this dormitory into a "sacred space for women"—a forbidden zone that male purgers cannot enter!
Let's get started preparing.
First, you cleaned the room, removing all items that symbolize masculinity under the binary gender view—even ordinary, unconscious things, such as certain books that "only men can understand," ugly cups, decorations, etc.—to make the room's atmosphere more "uniform."
Then, you took out some neon symbols that were exclusively for women:
A warm washi paper lantern symbolizes a woman's room.
A black folding fan represents the traditional private sphere of women.
A camphor wood pillow, a common pillow for "unmarried women" in the past—thanks to "you" in this instance, she really loves to go out and buy a lot of trinkets—meaning this room still belongs to "women only".
You intentionally or unintentionally place these items in various corners of the room, making them a kind of subtle suggestion, gradually transforming the room itself into a "woman-only" domain.
But these alone are not enough.
You need to add more fuel to the fire, to make everything even clearer.
The clear and true "taboos" must be inscribed on the "rules" of the space itself, so that the liquidators can no longer enter!
You took out a small piece of paper and wrote down on it—
"This place is exclusively for women. Any man who enters will be punished."
Then, in the simplest yet most formal way, you pasted it above the peephole on the wall.
…Next, all you need to do is wait for it to take effect.
They're just waiting for the liquidators to take the bait.
Night falls, and you sit in your room, staring at the tapestry on the wall.
Your breathing is extremely light, and the entire room is immersed in an eerie silence.
Finally, you heard it—
"Click".
It was an extremely slight frictional sound coming from the other side of the wall.
The weakened liquidator has finally noticed this, and he's trying to break your rules!
You hold your breath and continue staring at the wall, your fingers quietly sliding towards the folding fan on the table, gently brushing open the fan surface—hanging on it is the seal of the ghost bride's green hair.
This is the hair of an extremely powerful vengeful ghost, and the person he's going to fight is a sneaky, scheming man—it's practically a super buff.
They watched helplessly as the cracks in the wall began to widen, the dark holes seeming to come alive, slowly deforming as if trying to open a new passage.
You'd like to see just how capable the other side really is.
But at this very moment—
boom!
You heard a muffled thud, and the walls shook violently, as if something inside had been bounced back forcefully!
Then, you heard an extremely angry growl.
--"What are you doing?!"
You let out a soft hum, your fingers lightly tracing the tabletop, and replied calmly, "It's simple, I just made you 'unclean'."
"You like to peep, you like to hide in the dark... You seem to have been arrogant about yourself from the beginning, haven't you? But have you ever thought about what you would do if this room became a 'women-only' space?"
You paused, realizing how satisfying it was to have the other person under your thumb and still be able to say such pretentious things.
"Can you still stay here?"
The black hole in the wall instantly twisted, sending out a terrifying tremor.
—The rules you set are devouring the liquidators.
You've already beaten them three times in a row at the cherry blossom viewing party and the ramen shop. Even if they have some room to maneuver, I'm afraid they won't be able to handle the current predicament.
Close your eyes and softly recite the final seal:
"This is a woman's residence; men are not permitted here."
There was a loud bang.
The black hole collapsed, and the tapestry on the wall suddenly fell away, revealing the peephole that had once been there. But now, all that remained was a wall full of cracks.
The liquidator has been "completely" expelled from your space.
You slowly stood up, your gaze calm.
Now, it's your turn to loot the spoils.
The room door wasn't locked. Well, that makes sense; after all, he himself turned two rooms into one, so naturally only you, the owner, can decide whether to open or close it.
You pushed the door open easily and went inside.
The air still carried the stench of filthy men, and you covered your nose in disgust, never expecting to be suffocated by their stench even in this terrifying world.
As for the room—you glanced around the dormitory, it was much emptier than yours, with almost no personal belongings, and only some messy fast food garbage on the table. Despite claiming to be a visiting scholar, there wasn't even the most basic books or luggage here, it was like a "temporary" dwelling.
…or rather, it wasn't a space truly used for "living" at all, but rather a base established for hunting.
Where is that person?
The liquidator's body had completely collapsed, and there was no trace in the room that could prove he "was once a person." There were only some remaining black ash on the ground, like some kind of embers after being devoured by the rules.
That's a bit of a shame. You were hoping to get some of the Purifier's blood that Xiaoming used to collect. Anyway, it's good to be able to hide yourself for now; you're really getting annoyed by these man-made dangers.
However...
You quietly scan your surroundings, knowing full well that this strange creature, capable of even resisting backlash, could not be killed unprepared.
He must have other trump cards up his sleeve.
Including why he can prepare to hunt you in advance.
You need to find that card and see if he left anything behind...
You carefully inspected the table and walls, even lifting his mattress, but the room appeared empty and dirty, with nothing noteworthy.
Are we really going to end up with nothing?
But just as you were about to leave, you suddenly stopped in your tracks.
Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of something "breathing" in a corner of the tatami floor.
No, it wasn't real breathing, but an extremely subtle rhythm, like the pulse of some creature, or like something trying to recover itself.
You crouch down and gently lift the tatami mat.
—You found it.
You pick up that tiny thing and examine it in your palm.
It is an extremely small mirror amulet, shaped like a traditional Japanese "soul knot"—an ancient knotted amulet often used as a medium to "tie the soul together."
Unlike the usual soul knots used for blessings, this amulet has a tiny, broken mirror embedded in its center. The mirror is covered with tiny cracks, like a once-complete mirror that was smashed by something, but still barely retains its original appearance.
You stare at the amulet, your eyes slightly narrowed.
In Japanese and even Japanese culture, mirrors are often considered a medium for connecting to the "other world".
You gently wipe the lens with your fingertip and feel its cold texture, even having a vague illusion that your "eyes" are being stared at.
As if struck by a sudden inspiration, you feel you've guessed its purpose.
—This thing… lets you see certain “tagged people”.
Or more accurately, it can reveal those who are about to be marked with the "soul marks of you outsiders".
You hold your breath, slowly raise the amulet, and point it at your reflection in the mirror.
The crack in the lens trembled slightly, as if some kind of force had been awakened.
Then, you saw—
A barely perceptible red mark has appeared on your body. It's so subtle that it's almost invisible to the naked eye, like a brand that has been quietly imprinted. And the shape of this mark...
You returned to your room and faced your door again.
Haha, it's exactly the same mark as the one on your dorm door!
…So, this is how the liquidators find you marked “outsiders” in advance?
—You thought they could only see you in person, but it turns out that by using tools, they can see the "marked person" even before you arrive, and then prepare for the hunt in advance.
You felt a slight tightening in your chest and gripped the amulet tightly.
It's badly damaged; the mirror is so cracked it's almost shattering at any moment. But it can still be used a few more times. However… the price it will come at might not be so simple.
You stared at the "Soul Knot in the Mirror," a cold smile slowly creeping onto your lips.
The liquidator is dead, but what he left behind has become your prey.
All items are products of dungeons. Since they are products of dungeons, they must all have corresponding rules.
For example, the black hair can be turned into an attack tool, or you can cleverly use the ghost bride's kindness to drive it to do other things.
If someone else were to take away her black hair, it might transform into a deadly spirit, strangling the person with its knuckles.
Since this skincare item can see marked outsiders, perhaps by using it, you can also find the settlers.
You've had enough of the liquidators' harassment.
You initially thought that encountering it once would be fine, and you could just try your best to fight it off, but upon closer reflection, this particular instance is absolutely terrifying:
You are constantly being watched and plotted against by the purifiers.
Even if you just squat in a safe house, you still can't avoid it.
Then we have no choice but to take the initiative.
At least, let's get a small vial of the Cleaner's blood first.
Your pupils are dark and inscrutable, which suggests that you have made a firm decision to step out of your moral comfort zone of "always passively protecting yourself."
Let's leave it at that.
In the following days, without the neighbors causing trouble, I simply went to language class every day, then went home to do my homework, and then obediently waited for the transportation notice before leaving.
Three more days.
My phone received a social media message from a ride-sharing group.
You booked a small group tour to explore Taipei County by carpooling several months ago, and the driver was another person who didn't need to pay a cent.
Well, his identity is Ruko, but the soul of the outsider within him seems to have been annihilated.
As you sit in the car, sleepiness quickly overcomes you, and you slowly close your eyes.
…
You were woken up by the cold.
My head ached as if someone was pounding my temples with an ice hammer, my stomach churned with the nausea of lingering alcohol, and my throat was so dry it felt like it was filled with shards of ice by a cold wind.
the Hangover.
After a few months away from being a corporate slave, you've almost forgotten what a hangover feels like.
You try to open your eyes, but all you see is a blurry white and grayish-blue. The sky is still dark, like the coldest moment before dusk.
Every breath feels like someone is punching you in the nose.
It's so cold. It's so cold.
As consciousness slowly returns, you can feel the cold snow melting on your back, and the chill seeps into your skin through the gaps in your clothes, freezing your whole body stiff.
...Someone is yelling at you.
who.
A deep, oppressive roar came from beside me, with a heavy, trilled tone.
Several tall men stood in front of you, wearing dark uniforms with heavy military badges and insignia on their shoulders.
Your vision is still blurry, your eyes are still adjusting to the biting cold wind, but you can make out their outlines:
—One soldier? One police officer? Or some kind of law enforcement officer that you can't define?
You sit in the snow and feel dizzy.
Until they roughly picked you up.
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Author's note: Hehe, I've added a little preview of the next dungeon here. Can you guess where it is?
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