Train (6) - Brain in the Tank
I mulled over a lot of things before opening the door to the engine room. You could call the engineer the final boss of this train, right? For some reason, he's under the cult's control, trying to turn me into a monster, and refusing to send us back to the living world. We had to either blackmail him or take him out and drive the train ourselves. I figured it wouldn't be easy. But I never expected just a brain floating around.
"Sis, this is that thing, right...?"
"Yeah..."
I could easily guess what Nao was about to say. There wasn't anything resembling a person in the engine room. In the spot where the driver's seat should have been, there was a massive tank filled with purple liquid—and inside it, a brain bobbed aimlessly. Cables were plugged into the tank, snaking off somewhere, somehow controlling the train.
[Ahem, this is your announcement. Our Hell Train is now entering a low-speed section. Passengers, please take note.]
The voice echoed from the tank. Looking closer, a mic was crudely hooked up to it. The voice bubbled out from the liquid, fed into the mic for the broadcast. And in one corner of the engine room lay a dead hellhound, its head sliced open, rotting away.
"A brain in a jar..."
I'd wondered how the cult controlled the engineer. Turns out they didn't go for the trendy lobotomy—they straight-up turned him into a brain in a jar. As I stood there dumbfounded, Nao tentatively spoke up.
"Um, excuse me. Are you the engineer?"
…….
No response. Not even a twitch.
"Hey, didn't you hear me? ...Guess not."
Nao backed off after failing to communicate. Right beside her, Lisa swung down with her kitchen knife.
-BOOM!
"Hm, it didn't break."
She'd struck with enough force to make the room shake, but the tank didn't have a single scratch. Lisa glanced at me, clearly surprised.
"What should we do, Mayuri? Try a few more times?"
"Nah... Smashing it without a plan doesn't seem smart."
I shot a glare at the instrument panel. Totally different from a car. No clue how to drive this thing. Baesena looked around the room and shook her head.
"The structure's completely different from normal trains. I can't drive this!"
"Sena, you know how to drive?"
"I've lived in Korea for hundreds of years! I've picked up all sorts of stuff. Cars, boats, helicopters—I can handle 'em!"
What? Why are you so competent? Well, time works differently for her. If we live 24 hours a day, she doubles herself and lives 48. Hundreds or thousands of times more time means mastering skills like driving is no big deal.
Even the super-competent Baesena—and our resident yandere detective sidekick Sua—couldn't drive this train. Only the engineer could.
"So, to sum up: can't kill it, can't replace it, can't even talk to it."
The cult put real effort into this... And for good reason. Step off the Hell Train midway, and you're dead. Board again, and you lose your humanity. From their perspective, no anomaly could be more perfect. As a Rank 5 Muksi Saengmyeongche, it could handle city-scale passengers—kill them all at once or turn them into monsters. No wonder they wanted control of the engineer.
"Uh, sis... I'll take good care of you."
Nao suddenly spoke up cautiously.
"Being a vampire isn't that bad! Once you get used to it, there are perks. You don't need sleep at night!"
"..."
"And with practice, you can even sprout wings! Look! Aren't they pretty?"
"Nao, I haven't decided to become a vampire yet."
She'd pitched it as a last resort, but why was she talking like it was a done deal?
"Then sis, got any other ideas?"
"I'm thinking..."
Nao watched me expectantly, probably thrilled at the idea of a vampire buddy. But she was right— we were out of options. Ari couldn't use her powers, Lisa's strength failed, same for Nao and Sua. Taemi and Miyeong wouldn't help here, Yeoul too. Maybe Baek Matan's magical girl power could smash it, but then who drives?
Bond Effects are limited too.
Ari's presence-lowering effect probably wouldn't work on the engineer—my voice doesn't even reach it. Nao's is for ally support, Sua's already used, others no good.
"What about destroying the train itself? Like that Murder Hotel last time!"
"I thought of that, but the risk is too high..."
I shook my head at Baesena's suggestion. Lisa's slash could halve it, maybe destroy the anomaly—but what about me on board? The Hell Train travels through hells to the living world. Destroy it now, and I'm stranded in the middle of hell.
Sigh. Do I really have to?
"Cute Girl Punch time...?"
"...Better than dying."
With a sigh, I cocked my arm. My senses sharpened, instincts and talents surging. I inhaled and threw the punch!
-Thud!
My finger hurt. And the Cute Girl Mod didn't activate!
"Ugh, knew it."
No way it'd work. From what I'd learned, the mod triggers on contact with an anomaly's core. And I was sure—that floating brain wasn't this anomaly's core. Sua got info from the attendants: when the previous engineer died, they made one of them the new one. The engineer is just a replaceable cog. The true core is elsewhere.
And it was obvious: the train itself was the monster. Like the Murder Hotel.
Do special space-type anomalies resist the Cute Girl Mod?
The hotel, our Work Negligence Prohibition curse—same issue. The mod's creator must be a genius. Probably works on all monsters, but methods vary. Some by touch, others like Magical Girl's Birth—no physical form, so dream invitation barely worked. Kunekune needed a workaround too.
So, for space-types, what now? Punching walls or floors didn't work before. If it did, our negligence curse would be a fine loli girl by now. Hard to picture a hotel or train girlifying anyway. Though Earth-moe or country-moe exists...
"Sena, you know how to use a phone?"
"Yeah!"
"With Nao, use the flash on the brain in the jar. Make a shadow."
I handed her my phone. No need for Taemi's light orb—the flash worked fine. Tank shadow, brain shadow. I glared at the brain's shadow.
"Enjoyable Shadow Exchange."
My shadow writhed.
Entity Name: Enjoyable Shadow Exchange
Management Rank:Defect (Albedo) (Threat Level 2)
Affinity: Neutral
: If A and B swap shadows, external perception fully inverts. A is seen as B by others, and vice versa. The swappers' self-perception unchanged. Persists until shadows revert. If one (e.g., B) dies, survivor (A) lives as B forever.
In Japan, low presence is "faint shadow." Shadows are presence itself. Swapping them swaps identities. Swap with Nao, and I'm seen as her, she's me—if I die, she lives as Mayuri forever.
But my target wasn't Nao. It was the brain in the jar—the engineer.
"Ah, so you're sis... I practiced a ton, but it's still confusing."
Nao looked dazed, perceiving the brain as "Mayuri's brain." Inevitable for an anomaly like this. Good thing my own perception was unchanged. I unplugged the mic half-wired to the tank, tapped it to test.
"Ahem, announcement from the engineer."
My voice boomed through the train. With shadows swapped, passengers and attendants would hear it as the engineer's.
"The Hell Train has been seized by the Ririri Detective Agency and hereby surrenders unconditionally. From now on, the Hell Train pledges absolute loyalty to the Ririri Detective Agency."
I'd chatted with Baesena once: in the Murder Hotel, killers were staff. If all staff followed me, couldn't I control it? Seemed impossible then, but now—with Enjoyable Shadow Exchange and Bond Effect upgrades—things changed.
"Thus, Hell Train operations cease immediately. Customers bound for reincarnation in the living world, please use alternate methods—we promise full refunds. And henceforth, the Hell Train will—"
<Slash>, <Light Source>, <Invitation> sealed.
<Lies> enhanced.
Enhanced 'King of Flies' Bond Effect activated.
"—operate anew as the Cute Girl Train, per the will of our greatest shareholder, the universe's cutest girl, Mayuri!"
I shouted it half-doubting it'd work.
Applying to target (1%)... Please wait.
In ghost stories, names matter. Remember the "Red Mask" trend? If it was "the urban legend about the woman whose botched plastic surgery tore her mouth, asking if she's pretty," would it have caught on? Or Mary doll—originally Rika's phone legend. As Mary solidified, her name overtook Rika's.
A ghost story's name fixes its form, nature, identity. Names mediate observation, bind or dominate.
"Cute Girl Train?"
The attendants, held by dolls, looked baffled. My Bond Effect—amped by Lies and King of Flies—fooled everyone on board. Passengers and staff now perceived the Hell Train as the Cute Girl Train.
If no one sees the Hell Train as hellish anymore... is it still the Hell Train? Does it stand as a ghost story?
"Huh? Why does my voice sound weird?"
One attendant muttered.