Chapter 9
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Amid Moonlit Guests 5
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There was a nagging anxiety that the man, with his somewhat casual attitude, might not be listening properly. Fortunately, he paid serious attention until Ibi finished her explanation. There was no real way to confirm if he was truly listening intently, but at least he stayed quiet and gave her his ear.
"Hmm."
Hearing that leisurely sound while she was going on about life and death was enough to drive her insane. Still, since he'd snapped earlier about hanging up if she got angry again, she had no choice but to hold her tongue and wait, no matter how much it burned inside.
In the meantime, the gears began to turn.
"I have more than a few questions for you myself, miss. But since time's short, I'll start by telling you what I know. I'll talk fast, so listen closely."
Ibi nodded frantically in earnest, forgetting he couldn't even see her.
"First off, the place you're trapped in isn't really a building—it's more like... a toy. You said you got swallowed by a box? That's what I call the 'Wardrobe.' It was made by moon rabbits..."
"Wait—moon rabbits?"
"I said just listen."
"S-Sorry..."
The man let out a faint sigh. It was small, but audible.
"The goblins copied the technology the moon rabbits invented. It has all sorts of functions, but simply put, time and space get all twisted up inside. I haven't taken yours apart properly, so I don't know the fine details. But from what you've told me, it doesn't seem too far off from the basics."
He paused briefly before continuing his explanation.
"Second, that stalking girl who's been tormenting you nonstop—she's a 'Guest,' a kind of ghost."
"...Guest?"
She'd heard the word so many times her ears were practically bleeding, so part of her wondered why he was bothering to tell her now. Even so, Ibi kept her focus.
"Right. Epidemic Ghost, Plague Demon, Guest—they're all names for the same evil spirits that carry disease. Looks like that girl froze to death with the flu and now wanders the nine heavens in the form of a Guest..."
"..."
"The key is knowing what kind of ghost a Guest is. Here's the rundown: On the first and second days, it stays in the east. Third and fourth, the south. Fifth and sixth, the west. Seventh and eighth, the north. On the ninth and tenth days, it's nowhere to be found."
Ibi scowled at the out-of-nowhere info dump.
"What did you say?"
"Remember what I told you earlier?"
"No!"
"..."
The man went silent for a beat, probably baffled. But what could she do? She straight-up didn't remember.
"Nothing in this world moves without rules. If you look closely at your situation, you'll spot the big patterns holding it all together. Who knows—you might even find a way out. Now you know the basics about the place and the Guest, right? So mull it over. I'd love to brainstorm with you, but the music's almost done. Isn't it about time for your Guest to show?"
"No, no! It's fine! Just tell me a little more!"
Seized by raw instinctual fear, Ibi desperately stopped the man from hanging up. It wasn't a rational choice—after all, the call would just reroute to the next room anyway.
But right now, she couldn't bear to let go of this tenuous lifeline to someone outside. For some reason, she had a gut feeling this guy could actually fix things.
"It's okay. There's still time. Dodging isn't that hard."
By then, the familiar knocking had started up from all four directions. She tensed up, sure, but it wasn't as terrifying as the first time. That's adaptation for you.
One of the four doors would swing open any second now. But the girl's footsteps were slow. She could wait, confirm which door, then bolt to another.
"East, west, south, north... right? Yeah, there are exactly four doors here. So that means we can map directions onto them..."
"Miss... from what I can tell, you should probably focus on running for now."
Ibi ignored him. Moments later, one door creaked open. She swallowed hard and eased away from it, but unlike before, she didn't panic and flee in blind terror.
Sure enough, the eerie girl shuffled in with that same droning chant. "Guest... Guest..."
"R-Right now... I'll observe her. I've just been scared out of my mind till now—never really looked properly. If there's something to find like you said."
"Hey..."
The man trailed off in that scolding tone, but Ibi tuned him out. The girl drew within five or six steps. Still a few seconds' buffer. She groped behind her, seized the doorknob, and swung it open.
As she watched the girl's movements, Ibi's brow furrowed. That's when she finally noticed something off about her.
The girl was missing her right hand.
Ibi plunged into confusion. She hadn't scrutinized before, but she was dead certain both hands had been there, perfectly intact.
So where had the severed hand gone...?
Ibi whipped around to the door she'd just opened. That's when something small on the floor outside the threshold twitched, then sprang up to head height and lunged right at her. It was the right hand, moving on its own.
Her mouth gaped in shock, but no scream came out. The hand had clamped around her throat and was squeezing. All that escaped were choked gurgles.
At the same instant, the girl's slowly advancing body shattered with a rustle. Shattered for real—like it'd been diced into a dozen chunks by dozens of invisible blades. It collapsed right there.
The severed head rolled toward the fallen Ibi. As she teetered on the brink of blackout from the strangling, their eyes locked.
No—not quite. There were no eyeballs in that face. Just gaping, hollow sockets.
"Ah... Ah..."
The mouth slashed across the rolling face twitched. It curled into a smirk, then a mocking grin.
"Heh, heh heh, heheheh... Ahahaha."
Then, in a flash, it turned dead serious and spat out something horrifying.
"Where'd a rude bitch like you learn to treat a guest like that?"
At the same moment, the hand choking her neck slid up to her mouth. It forced her jaws apart and clamped down on her tongue, squeezing until tears welled up.
"Should I yank this out first?"
"S-Stop..."
The hand really yanked, tugging like it meant to rip the tongue clean out by the root.
Sensing mortal danger on pure instinct, Ibi clamped down with all her strength and bit hard. Her mouth flooded with blood. As the hand thrashed wildly, it felt like a massive bug wriggling inside her jaws.
After a brutal struggle, Ibi finally tore the hand free. Her tongue throbbed like it might still come off, but there was no time to care. She snatched up the nearby smartphone and bolted for one of the remaining closed doors.
She was just about to burst through when her foot caught the threshold. She tumbled into the corridor—and in that glance back inside, something she'd never noticed before caught her eye.
Before she could get a good look, the door slammed shut. Ibi scrambled away from it on hands and knees. She half-expected the Guest to give chase, but seconds ticked by with no sign of the door reopening.
Ibi hauled herself up on trembling legs. Then she did something even she couldn't explain. She crept back toward the closed door, cautious as could be. Pressed her ear tight to the crack. She had to know why the Guest hadn't come after her right away.
She didn't have the guts to open it and peek. She just listened to the sounds from within. Nothing but an inexplicable rustling, like crumpling paper.
How long did she stay like that? Eventually, Ibi slowly backed away again. Come to think of it, was this corridor another safe spot, like the triangular room? The Guest had never pursued her out here before.
"..."
Of course, hunkering down here wouldn't get her out. And she couldn't call the man either. Ibi glanced down at the smartphone clutched in her hand like buried treasure. For now, it was the only thing she could count on.
But... the battery was almost dead. Fuck...
No matter how much she cursed under her breath, there were no other options. Keeping the phone ready to dial, Ibi crossed the corridor and threw open the next door.
Creeeak—another rectangular room.
Ibi called the man. The ringing dragged on, making her antsy, but thankfully he picked up quick.
"Ah, you're still kicking, huh."
"..."
"No word for so long—I figured the Guest had munched you."
She brushed past his needlessly irritating remark and spoke up, anxiously scanning her surroundings. With the music winding down, her only move was to run when it stopped—meaning she had to rush this conversation.
"Hey. I think I just figured something out."
"Color me curious."
Ibi approached the wall plastered with newspapers. 15th, 16th. By now, the papers had faded even past bare minimum articles, reduced to nonstop streams of curses.
Forcing herself to ignore the content, Ibi gritted her teeth.
"You said it earlier. The Guest... on certain days, it's in certain directions... east, west, south, north, something like that."
"Want a recap?"
"No, in a bit. What I'm trying to say right now is..."
There were always two calendars per room. The first digits varied, but looking just at the ends: 1st and 2nd. 3rd and 4th. 5th and 6th. 7th and 8th. They paired up perfectly with what the man had described.
Plus, every room had exactly four doors. No exceptions. So she could assign cardinal directions to each one. But in a room with no compass, no windows even—how the hell was she supposed to know which was which?
Ibi recalled the previous room: the moment the severed wrist-hand lunged and grabbed her throat. She'd glimpsed something then. Too quick for more than an afterimage, maybe.
"This carpet."
Ibi swallowed hard and stepped onto the burgundy rug. Sure enough, a big "4" was marked there.
No—wait...
Ibi vividly replayed the position of the door the "Guest" had opened just moments ago.
Taking the 4 head-on as front... the door to the left.
That made it the west door.
"These aren't numbers. They're directional markers."