Illusion Report

"Hm? Hmmmm?"

A long, sharp note of confusion rattled in the Denizen’s throat. It was as if it couldn’t comprehend why Chaisi refused to just die in its memory, why he insisted on crawling back to his feet time and time again.

"You can die, in mem-ory thir, ty-eight—"

’Just a moment ago, it said "thirty-nine,"’ Chaisi thought. ’So it’s counting down.’

’A memory that’s been used once can’t be used to attack me again, right?’

Perfect. He’d had enough of that weak, useless, helpless five-year-old child who could do nothing but cry and scream.

His loathing for powerlessness was even greater than his hatred for the Denizen.

Chaisi shut his eyes tightly and took a deep breath.

"Hnnnnngh?" Seeing him still standing, the Denizen sounded extremely displeased, its voice growing much more grating. "Thir, ty-eight—"

"Stop your noise," Chaisi said in a low voice. "As long as I can’t see your face, I won’t black out. Right?"

Every single time, the moment his eyes met its face, he would collapse and sink into a memory. Even a fool could connect those dots.

"By the standards of Denizens, you’re a crude, shoddy piece of work," Chaisi said, taking a step back. "You can’t pull any new tricks, but you’ve certainly got plenty of weaknesses—"

He didn’t get to finish. A gust of wind was already surging toward him.

The soft SLAP of bare feet on the floor, the faint currents of air stirred by countless swinging strips of cloth, the foul, cloying stench that instantly thickened in the air...

’With my eyes closed, my other senses are far more acute.’

Chaisi retreated again. The sole of his shoe crunched on broken glass, and he knew he had reached the window the Denizen had crawled through.

He suddenly ducked and shot a hand forward. It felt like plunging his arm into a sticky miasma, but he managed to grab a handful of cloth. The nauseating yet familiar jolt of touching a Denizen shot from his palm straight to the crown of his head. The creature had grabbed his chest, but it let out a short, triumphant laugh.

Chaisi knew why it was laughing.

It probably thought the discomfort would incapacitate him. Most people, upon their first few physical contacts with a Denizen, were so overwhelmed by the physiological shock they couldn’t even remain standing.

But it didn’t know that compared to the Denizen he’d faced when he was five, this one was just a cheap knockoff.

Chaisi gritted his teeth, fighting the tremors in his muscles. His fingers tightened, clenching the cloth of the robe on the Denizen’s chest. He swung his arm, heaving the creature out through the shattered window.

The Denizen only had time to let out a surprised "Eh?" The next second, it slammed onto the tracks outside with a distant, muffled THUD.

’Now for the real question—what exactly was the Path this Denizen used to enter the human world?’

’It crawled in through a "pitch-black window," but that couldn’t possibly be the only condition.’

’Otherwise, with the countless "pitch-black windows" in everyday life, it could have entered the human world long ago. Why wait until today?’

’Besides the "pitch-black window," at least one other condition must have been met to allow it to cross into the human world. No matter how he racked his brain, Chaisi could only think of one possibility.’

In a flash, he opened his eyes and sprinted through the train car. Midway, he snatched up the T-bar and skidded to a halt beside the semi-conscious subway driver.

"’Rumor,’ send it back."

Chaisi could already hear a rustling from the window behind him; the Denizen was apparently trying to climb back in. He raised the T-bar high. "Otherwise, I’ll smash your host into pulp right now."

He never made empty threats.

The instant the T-bar bit into the subway driver’s shoulder, the tiny voice from within the driver’s cheek shrieked, "Cancel the invitation for ’Memory-Kill’! Cancel the invitation for ’Memory-Kill’!"

’...What a ridiculous name.’

Panting, Chaisi pulled the T-bar out of the driver’s shoulder. He stood still for a second or two. The train car was bright and silent.

Slowly, he turned his head to look at the window the Denizen had crawled in through.

He had braced himself to see a figure dangling from the window, to see a face grinning at him. But the window was empty. Only a few jagged shards of glass remained in the frame, seeming to stand there in a daze, unaware of their own uselessness.

Carrying the T-bar, Chaisi approached the window step by step. He was cautious, not looking out with his naked eyes. Instead, he opened his phone’s camera and scanned the area through the screen.

’If it was a Denizen, it would naturally enjoy toying with people. Maybe it was squatting right outside the car, hands clasped over its mouth, snickering as it waited to disappoint him.’

But outside was just a dim, empty, and quiet subway tunnel.

Stepping over a floor of shattered glass and past the driver’s pained groans, he walked back to face "Rumor" once more.

The blow to the shoulder had shocked the driver out of his stupor. Now, seeing Chaisi approach, he twisted away with a whimper, trying to crawl backward. Chaisi touched the tip of the T-bar to his chest. "Don’t move."

The driver froze, his face slick with fear and cold sweat. "J-just now, that was..."

"A dream," Chaisi said flatly. "You had a nightmare."

The look on the driver’s face, if put into words, would have been something like, "If you’re going to lie to me, at least put some effort into it."

But Chaisi had never liked clean-up duty, and he had no patience for inventing a plausible explanation for what had just happened. He was contemplating how to extract the Rumor Illusion when the driver spoke again.

"What’s in my mouth... What is this thing in my mouth?" the driver asked, looking dazed. "You called it ’Rumor’... Why ’Rumor’ again..."

Like a dog’s ears twitching at a strange sound, Chaisi’s attention instantly snapped into focus.

"’Again?’" He leaned closer, startling a hiccup out of the driver. "Who else said the word ’Rumor’?"

Whether from physical pain or sheer terror, the driver’s lower lip was slick with sweat and trembling uncontrollably. "A few days ago, some guy said he’d lost his glasses and couldn’t see properly. He asked me to read a couple of sentences for him..."

Chaisi froze but didn’t interrupt.

"He asked me if the message said, ’I have a rumor to tell you.’ I looked at his phone and told him no, it said, ’I heard a rumor’... The whole thing was so strange—I had no idea who would send him such a bizarre message—that it stuck with me."

"What did that person look like?" Chaisi asked immediately.

"I don’t know..." the driver said, trembling. "He was wearing a mask. I could only tell he was a man in his twenties or thirties."

’No wonder the driver hadn’t reacted to Ivan’s description earlier.’ For a moment, Chaisi felt an urge to laugh out loud.

’He understood everything.’

’The solution was so simple. In hindsight, it was baffling he hadn’t thought of it sooner.’

’Since the object was a "rumor," of course the method of transmission would be through "words," right?’

’The person who asked the driver to read the message that day was undoubtedly Ivan.’

’Ivan’s goal wasn’t just to get the driver to read a message, but to trick him into completing a specific conversational exchange—’

"Now, say ’I have a rumor to tell you.’"

Chaisi watched as a bulge pushed against the inside of the driver’s cheek, then vanished. "Say that, and I’ll leave immediately. I won’t lay another finger on you."

"R-Really?" The driver stared, then immediately latched onto this lifeline. "I-I have a rumor to tell you!"

Chaisi took a deep breath.

"...I heard a rumor," he replied in a low voice.

’The exchange was complete.’

The car fell silent. Chaisi stared at the driver’s cheek. There was no movement at all.

Chaisi suddenly felt his own tongue dart out uncontrollably to lick the inside of his cheek before settling back into place.

He slowly broke into a smile.

"You... you promised you’d leave..." The driver trembled as he pushed himself up, inching backward and staring at him. "You can’t..."

"Don’t worry."

Chaisi stood up and pulled a wallet from his suit’s inner pocket. He took out a thick wad of cash and tossed it onto the driver. "Consider this compensation for your trouble. When you report this to the police, remember to choose your words carefully."

As the driver’s eyes fixed on the cash, Chaisi turned and walked away.

’He’ll definitely call the police as soon as he can,’ Chaisi thought. ’I don’t care.’

"Rumor," Chaisi called out in a low voice as he jumped onto the platform. "How much time do you have left?"

He waited patiently and, just as he expected, a tiny voice spoke from inside his cheek. "’Rumor,’ countdown: 3,405 days, 16 hours, and 15 minutes."

Chaisi did a quick mental calculation. ’As expected of one of Westley’s Illusions; it’s top-tier in every respect.’ It still had a usage period of nearly nine years and four months left. He knew that many Illusions didn’t even have a lifespan that long right after leaving their Nest.

’It must have been in Westley’s possession for at least a few years, right? After Westley died, how did it pass from a dead man’s mouth to Ivan?’

Chaisi couldn’t think of an answer for the moment.

The police chasing him seemed to think he had long ago blended in with the arriving passengers and left the station.

He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up so his bangs fell across his forehead. He then took off his suit jacket and dress shirt, ditching them and leaving himself in just a white short-sleeved tee. He walked out of the subway station almost brazenly. A few officers had been left to watch the exits, and one of them shouted, "Hey!"

Chaisi stopped and asked placidly, "Yes, Officer? What is it?"

The officer looked him up and down a few times.

’When I crossed the tracks earlier, the police only saw the back of a man in a suit. They hadn’t gotten a clear look at my face, and with the dim lighting in the tunnel, I’m confident they won’t recognize me. I’m tall, but not unusually so.’

"Where are you coming from?"

"Ninth Street."

"When did you get off the train?"

"Just now. Used the restroom, got held up for a bit."

The officer thought for a moment, waved his hand, and said, "Got it. Thanks for your cooperation. You can go."

As Chaisi was about to leave, he suddenly couldn’t help but ask, "...I heard there’s a subway serial killer, is that right?"

The officer was taken aback.

"Oh... right." He seemed to be slowly dredging up a memory. He glanced at his partner before saying, "Yeah, there is a rumor going around... but he’s not who we’re after today. Well, I don’t think so."

"Good luck, Officer." Chaisi smiled, then turned and walked out of the subway station.