Chapter 19
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: Ghost Bridge Society 4
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“Where should we start? How about ‘Why didn’t Girl A realize she was dead for three whole years?’”
Ibi gripped her glass tightly with both hands as she listened intently to Nati’s words.
“My conclusion is this. She did know.”
“Pardon?”
“That girl who died unjustly three years ago had already severed all ties to her living days. She’d fully transformed into the Guest and wandered the nine heavens. Doesn’t that solve the other mysteries too?”
Ibi furrowed her brows. Nati pressed on regardless.
“Why did she spare the boss for three years without killing him? Why did she haunt only the area around the cafe without ever finding it? She’d forgotten all about her life. She didn’t even know why she was circling there—just kept going round and round.”
“Ah, I see. Nice and tidy explanation. But if the Guest forgot all about her earthly grudges, were all the horrors I went through just a dream? What about our cafe boss?”
Her tone sharpened a bit, but Nati showed no reaction. He simply refilled her glass in silence.
“Right. That alone wouldn’t cut it. So I wanted to add one more variable.”
“A variable?”
“Someone approached the Guest, stirred up her faded memories from life, and drove her to attack your workplace.”
“Convenient theory. Got any evidence?”
Nati paused briefly. It didn’t last long.
“That box you were trapped in? It was actually an item I had stored. We call it the Wardrobe. Ever heard about the warehouse under the tea house?”
“...I’ve already been down there.”
“Quick on the uptake. Makes this easier, then. It was one of the countless antiques shoved in there, but it got stolen recently. Around the 1st of this month.”
Ibi pressed a hand to her forehead. The first time she’d faced the Guest’s threat was the very next day, the 2nd.
“The Wardrobe was originally crafted by goblins. They modeled its interior after their own palace. What... it was probably just meant as a toy at first. Lock someone inside and watch them wander lost while you giggle. Being that kind of object, its internal structure shifts slightly depending on who’s using it. This time, since the Guest got hold of it, the layout adapted perfectly to her habits.”
“......”
Ibi stayed silent for a long stretch. Nati subtly shook his own glass. She clinked hers against it lightly and downed the liquor in one gulp.
The buzz was starting to creep up to her chest.
“Anyway, goblin or whatever stole it—how does that prove a third party was involved? Maybe the Guest took it herself.”
“I thought that at first too.”
“Not anymore?”
“She wandered for three years without even knowing who the boss was that drove her out, then suddenly her memories flood back and she becomes a vengeful ghost? Fine, let’s say that’s possible. But instead of heading straight for him, why would she come all the way to our Flower Mugwort Tea House basement—crawling with bizarre crap—and steal it? Doesn’t add up.”
“That’s...”
Unable to find a solid counter, Ibi pondered before speaking again.
“Okay, so someone else stole the Wardrobe and handed it to the Guest. Fine up to there. But that thief knew her story, fed her the enemy’s info, and revived her memories? That what you’re saying?”
“Exactly.”
“Not to be rude, but isn’t that a bit forced? Sure, if such a thief existed, it’d all fit. But it’s way too convenient. Any other evidence? Like, what’s in it for this third party helping the Guest?”
Nati turned fully to face her, shifting in his seat.
“Look back at what already happened, and the answer’s there. The Guest got her revenge by taking out the boss. But there was one extra incident that had nothing to do with her grudge.”
“What are you getting at?”
“You’ve probably guessed already. Sharper than you look.”
Ibi lowered her gaze, her mind a whirl of confusion.
“You mean me?”
No quick reply came.
“You’re saying the thief egged on the Guest... to target me? That I was the real goal?”
“Yes.”
“That make any sense? I’m just a part-timer. How would anyone predict I’d get dragged in if they went after the boss?”
“Was it some big secret that you worked there?”
“...No.”
“Finding that out’s child’s play. Think of it the other way: they tracked you down first and stumbled on the cafe. Digging into it, they spot the Guest with her grudge against the boss. Bait her right, and you get hooked too.”
“......”
It sounded absurd. But the more she mulled it over, the more logical it felt.
“Still... I can’t buy it. Who’d want me dead that badly? Sure, no one’s ever called me sweet-tempered, but I’ve lived decently enough. No one hates me enough to kill.”
“Why assume it has to be a person?”
“That’s...”
Ibi’s words caught in her throat. She scowled in frustration and reached for the bottle to refill her glass. Downed it in one shot.
“Miss. I’ve thought since I first saw you—you don’t seem all that ordinary yourself.”
Ibi whipped her head around. Her cheeks were starting to flush.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what I said. A normal person would’ve lost their mind after back-to-back horrors like yours, yet here you are, calmly drinking with me. Taking ghosts and such in stride.”
“......”
Nati’s gaze pierced like an awl. He didn’t seem drunk at all.
“You’re right. Ever since I was little, weird stuff kept happening around me. Spiritual phenomena, I guess... Some even said I should become a shaman.”
“You don’t strike me as one, though.”
“Fine, whatever. You’re saying some ghost or monster wants my life? That I somehow earned massive hatred from some unknown evil spirit?”
“Could be.”
“I...”
Ibi clutched her head and propped her elbows on the table.
Grudge, murderous intent. She wasn’t sure those words fit, but there was one unidentified entity that seemed awfully interested in her.
The one watching her from long ago. Amid waves of nightmares coming and going, it stayed put, never fading. Staring at her from the dream tides with hollow, burning eyes.
Why did it feel like she’d met him just recently?
“...Actually, there’s one suspect. Someone I’ve been tracking for a very long time. I’ve got business with him.”
Nati’s voice drifted in like a dream.
“I don’t get this invested in cases often. But I’m putting effort here because your experiences remind me of his patterns. What’s your connection to him? That very...”
The moment Nati was about to name him, Ibi snapped her head up.
Their voices overlapped, uttering one name in unison.
“Hollow Man.”
For the first time, astonishment flickered across Nati’s face.
By the time they stepped outside, the sun still blazed fiercely. It was dipping a touch toward evening, but far from dusk.
After the Hollow Man’s name came up, Nati started grilling her: how she knew of the man, what exactly she knew.
But Ibi, too rattled herself, couldn’t answer properly. And it wasn’t just that— she barely knew anything about him to begin with.
Ibi suddenly went quiet and kept knocking back drinks. Worried she’d drag an innocent into trouble, Nati led her out once the bottle was empty.
Her speech was starting to slur; she clearly wanted more. But when he said she’d have to pay from now on, she sobered up quick.
“......”
Outside, Ibi rubbed her flushed cheeks with her palms. Then a single raindrop sensation hit her forehead. She squinted up at the sky—still cloudless.
The booze? As that thought crossed her mind, fat drops poured down like a sudden shower.
The sun shone brightly all the while. Even as the rain darkened the world’s colors a shade.
One sunbeam slipped through the drops, caressing the ground. Like stumbling into a watercolor daydream.
Something like this...
“Fox rain, right?”
Nati, standing beside her, spoke up.
“I hate fox rain.”
Ibi tilted her head and looked at him. Why?
“Hate foxes.”
With that, Nati strode ahead without bothering to dodge the rain.
The alcohol’s fault? The scene before her warped and melted like someone had spilled paint for fun. In a gray back alley of squat buildings stretching long. Edges blurred, lights danced.
Ibi shook her head to reset the world. Then, before it fully dissolved, she dashed after the black-clad man ahead.
“Wait up!”