Picking Up a Doomsday Girl

Mid-September, 10 AM.

Most people are at work or school at this hour, but I took a leave of absence from the school I attend and stayed in this rented room off-campus. Today, I have something far more important to do than attend classes.

I know full well that what I'm doing is something I can't openly admit to.

Affected by a guilty conscience, I didn't open the windows for ventilation this morning. When I walked to the window, I only dared to pull the curtains open a crack. The dazzling sunlight hit my face, and the scenery of the neighborhood in the early morning came into view.

The outside world was peaceful, with no one aware that two individuals, unwelcome by society, were lurking in this room.

I picked up the metallic object to my right, emanating a chilling aura, and held it up before my eyes.

It was a handgun.

I don't know its specific category or model. In my past life, I had never encountered real firearms or ammunition, let alone understood them. The only thing I could discern was that this was definitely not a toy model gun from my childhood, but a genuine article, capable of blowing someone's head off with a pull of the trigger, and landing me in prison for life.

Confirming its authenticity was simple. I awkwardly removed the magazine. Inside, three cold, gleaming yellow bullets were loaded, with another already chambered, brimming with killing intent. Without a doubt, these were live rounds.

Legal statutes I'd looked up online automatically surfaced in my mind:

"Whoever illegally possesses or privately stores firearms and ammunition shall be sentenced to fixed-term imprisonment of not more than three years, criminal detention, or public surveillance; if the circumstances are serious, they shall be sentenced to fixed-term imprisonment of not less than three years and not more than seven years."

After scrutinizing the deadly weapon in my hand for a long time, I turned to look at the beautiful girl fidgeting restlessly on the bed.

"I'll repeat what you just said. You're saying that the future world will fall into an unprecedented catastrophe, with bizarre phenomena appearing endlessly, monsters roaming everywhere and slaughtering indiscriminately, and human civilization shattered under the impact of countless supernatural forces..." I organized the information I had just heard, along with my own emotions, "And you are a survivor from that Doomsday world, who has traveled across time and space from the distant future to this present moment?"

She nodded.

"Then, what is your purpose now?" I continued to ask, "Are you trying to prevent the Doomsday from happening in this era?"

"That's right..." she looked at the gun in my hand, "So, can you give me my gun back?"

My first encounter with this strange and dangerous girl was last night, while I was investigating a ghost story at a nearby abandoned construction site.

Ghost story investigation is my hobby. Specifically, it involves verifying whether the ghost stories and urban legends circulating among the public live up to their reputation through on-site investigation.

This act of verification itself isn't particularly unusual; everyone has curiosity. If a school has ghost stories circulating, students might spontaneously test the truth of the rumors. What I do is no different in essence.

If there's anything special that sets me apart from others, it's that I've been doing this since I was young.

From a young age, I was fascinated by the magical stories described in books, enjoying the imagination of personally experiencing those thrilling adventures and battling world-destroying enemies. I was also drawn to bizarre anecdotes in reality, such as the unsolved mysteries of the Bermuda Triangle, the wild man of Shennongjia, or popular internet legends like Slender Man and Kuchisake-onna. These non-realistic existences, so distant from my real life, captivated me.

Similarly, I was very fond of concepts like Feng Shui, Qimen Dunjia, and black magic, all imbued with a strong sense of non-realistic mystery. I didn't hesitate to put them into practice myself to verify their authenticity.

Needless to say, my personal practices almost always ended in disproving them or fizzling out, and my exploration of ghost stories earned me a rather unpleasant reputation.

Whenever I heard of someone locally witnessing a paranormal phenomenon that couldn't be explained by science, I would find a way to visit them to verify the truth. Some of these cases turned out to be misunderstandings, others involved superstitious individuals lacking basic scientific common sense, some were vague, evasive, or even became angry when questioned.

Certain people, frustrated by me, would resentfully tell others, "He Zhuang Cheng is just pretending to like dragons; if he ever encountered the real thing, he'd be scared out of his wits!" Many listeners agreed.

Within the university, I was also considered an eccentric oddball by most. While it didn't cause much trouble, it was indeed rare to find classmates who interacted with me normally. My only friend at university was also perplexed by my efforts to chase after the void. He once probed my motives and tried to persuade me.

"Since you've never actually seen any real supernatural power, why have you been investigating ghost stories and legends?" my friend had asked at the time, "No matter how enthusiastic you were at first, shouldn't you have cooled down after a few failures? But I heard you've been doing this since middle school, isn't that strange?

"I don't see you doing any ghost-hunting livestreams, you don't gain anything, not even a little bit of success. You need some positive feedback... some related evidence or clues to keep going, don't you think?"

I understood his underlying meaning and got straight to the point: "Stop beating around the bush. If you have something to say, just say it directly to me."

Hearing this, he no longer skirted the issue and frankly expressed his thoughts: "I think you should stop investigating ghost stories and taking risks in the future."

"Why? Are you, like those people, also thinking I'll be scared out of my wits if I encounter the real thing?"

"It's not that I'm worried about that, I'm just afraid you'll break the law." he quipped, "Sometimes you exude an aura of lawlessness that scares me. You wouldn't go digging up ancient tombs or participating in cult rituals just for a thrill, would you?"

"..."

"You wouldn't, would you?" his voice changed.

Regardless of whether I had plans to do such things, perhaps he wasn't truly afraid of me breaking the law, but rather used exaggerated language to avoid conflict when I questioned him sharply. After all, I have always been a law-abiding citizen.

In any case, he didn't manage to convince me in the end.

And recently, I turned my attention to the abandoned construction site near the university.

It was rumored to be haunted, with vengeful ghosts who died in construction accidents appearing bloodied late at night to abduct passing female students.

The night I heard this, I immediately grabbed my large flashlight and walked there alone.

The incident location was a half-finished building at the abandoned construction site. Due to the halted construction, there were no doors or windows installed on the walls. After I passed through the dark doorway, all I could see in every direction were unsightly gray concrete walls, with dust and construction debris everywhere.

Not even homeless people approached this place, and the insects seemed unwilling to enter this barren land. The lights and noise of the outside world were gloomily shut out, leaving only deathly silence and darkness in the air, accompanied by my solitary heartbeat and breathing.

The beam of my flashlight could only illuminate the path ahead. The darkness behind me seemed to press against my back like a physical entity, making me want to turn around. But if I looked back, I would then worry that something might have appeared in front of me. I was constantly on edge, looking around nervously.

This non-realistic atmosphere, while making me feel a chill, also felt strangely familiar.

My friend's words had a point; people can't remain enthusiastic forever when there's no hope in sight.

At some point, I unconsciously understood a truth: the real world isn't as fantastical as fictional stories; the truth behind many mysteries is often mundane and monotonous. Those who claim to use magic are merely skilled illusionists, those who claim to be adept at divination are skilled in psychological techniques, and those who can bless with safety are simply eloquent speakers, with their followers being good at self-deception. For a time, I did fall into a state of despair, like being stuck in a quagmire.

But ultimately, everyone has to die.

Rather than dying in a life of uneventful calm, I would rather die in a bizarre adventure, just like in a story.

I want to let my life spiral out of control, for a fantastical monster to suddenly burst into the classroom and kill the teacher and students in front of everyone. If such an absurd situation were to occur, how would I react? Perhaps I would unleash courage I never knew I had, or perhaps I would be unimaginably cowardly—I want to know, I want my world to lose control.

What truly makes me unable to stop is not petty ghosts and monsters, but adventures that completely surpass my experience and life, unpredictable and incredible.

While I didn't expect to encounter a truly bizarre experience this time, I still honed my vigilance as much as possible. Truly bizarre experiences inevitably bring unimaginable danger. Even I couldn't guarantee I'd make it out unscathed.

As I cautiously advanced into the ruins step by step, I focused the beam of my flashlight on every detail in the environment. I imagined deadly dangers lurking in those imperceptible corners, like ferocious beasts holding their breath, waiting for the moment I let my guard down and blinked to pounce, to snap my throat.

Monsters, if you truly exist, reveal yourselves before me.

I will prove that I am not The Man of Qi Who Loved Dragons.

Suddenly, a loud crash of a heavy object echoed nearby.

This space was already so silent that one could clearly feel their own heartbeat. When that sound rang out, it was like a clap of thunder from a clear sky, striking my heart fiercely.

I jolted awake, immediately pinpointed the direction of the sound, and rushed towards it.

It was only the distance of a corridor. I quickly reached the source of the sound and, with the aid of my light, clearly saw what it was.

It was a scaffold lying on the ground. So that's it. Such a heavy object falling would indeed make a loud noise. But a scaffold doesn't fall for no reason; someone must have knocked it over.

I soon noticed out of the corner of my eye, at the edge of my vision, in a dark corner, a vague shadow sitting on the ground, leaning against a concrete wall.

Blood flowed along the ground, like several small snakes slithering, slowly, slowly, from the darkness into the illuminated area of my flashlight beam.

I heard that what appeared in this abandoned construction site was a Vengeful Ghost, covered in blood, who died in a construction accident in the past.

A suffocating sensation gripped my throat. It turned out I had unconsciously held my breath. My isolated and helpless situation made my limbs stiff and cold as a corpse.

With trembling anticipation, I slowly moved the flashlight beam, illuminating the vague shadow.

What appeared before me was indeed a person covered in blood.

But it wasn't the terrifying Vengeful Ghost I had imagined.

It was a girl wearing a blue and white striped hospital gown, with slender limbs and a beautiful face.