Picking Up a Doomsday Girl 4

From the moment I first touched a real gun, I knew I might have to deal with official forces, and I secretly hoped for that development.

I never expected the police to show up so quickly, and it was even more unbelievable that reality would mirror the nightmare I had before.

That girl is a serial killer, is that for real?

Fear and excitement pounded violently in my chest at the same time.

Perhaps my control over my facial muscles loosened slightly, because the policeman in front of me raised an eyebrow and asked, "What's wrong? Do you recognize this face?"

"It's nothing, I just thought..."

"Thought?"

"Such a young girl... is actually a serial killer?" I partially transferred my previous disbelief into my current tone.

"Oh, you mean that..." He nodded in agreement. "Someone else asked that before. Actually, she found a handgun somewhere. A rebellious teenage girl, her thoughts can easily go to extremes. Sometimes she doesn't care about her own life or others'. She harbors resentment towards adults and society, and just happened to get her hands on a real gun. It's easy for things to escalate, both mentally and physically."

"Can she also be classified as a murderer?" I asked inquisitively.

"If the circumstances are particularly severe, yes... You can look it up online yourself later." He didn't seem inclined to elaborate further and asked again, "So, have you seen her or not? Do you have any impression of this face? She has appeared in this area and poses a serious threat to the lives of nearby residents. Capturing her even a minute earlier is better. There's even a cash reward for actively reporting her."

Reporting her would bring a reward, conversely, harboring her would result in severe criminal responsibility – I knew this very well. While it might not be a life sentence like in my nightmare, it would definitely cast a dark shadow over my future.

I had consciously avoided pedestrians and road surveillance for the first half of moving the girl last night, and for the second half, I put her in a large suitcase. Logically, I shouldn't have been exposed so easily. But the problem was that I wasn't a dangerous individual who was constantly preparing for crimes, so I couldn't definitively say I had avoided all surveillance cameras. Who knows, there might have been a hidden camera in some blind spot that I didn't notice? The possibility of being caught by official forces was objectively present.

Perhaps the policeman in front of me had already obtained evidence against me, and this was a final chance to confess. I should admit that I acted out of confusion and quickly turn in that troublesome girl before I truly reached a point of no return.

However, after encountering such an unusual event and reaching this point, was I going to end this mysterious encounter anticlimactically as a concerned citizen? I hadn't even heard the full story yet!

There were still several unfathomable doubts about that girl. The explanation of "a rebellious teenager who inexplicably found a real gun" was far from satisfying my curiosity. If I let her go now, I feared I would forever lose my standing to participate further in this bizarre incident.

I couldn't hand that child over yet, not until I was satisfied.

Facing the policeman's inquiry, I pretended to recall for a moment before replying, "I don't think I've seen her."

"Alright... Sorry to have taken up your time." The policeman showed no signs of surprise or disappointment. He simply took back the photo and skillfully closed the door behind me. "If you see her later, remember to call the police immediately."

"I understand."

I responded in a normal tone, closing the door and then eavesdropping on the sounds outside.

The policeman's footsteps moved to my neighbor's apartment, and a knock sounded again. It seemed he was continuing his inquiries with the neighbors. He was probably planning to go door-to-door.

I seemed to have heard somewhere before that in modern times, over ninety percent of solved cases are actually solved through such simple, unpretentious door-to-door inquiries and checking surveillance footage.

Just in case, I didn't immediately return to the bedroom to speak with the girl. Instead, I picked up my phone by the sofa and returned to the entryway. While silently eavesdropping on the policeman's movements outside, I took out my phone to search for recent serial killer cases in my city, Xianshui City.

A search indeed revealed something.

In the past two to three months, five bodies with gruesome appearances were discovered one after another within Xianshui City. The victims were all high-ranking officials and wealthy individuals.

Media reports seemed to be somewhat censored. The news I could find didn't detail their causes of death, nor did it include photos or specific descriptions of their "gruesome appearances." I only learned that official forces collected fibers and skin tissue that did not belong to the victims from beneath the fingernails of the five bodies, presumably scratched from the killer's clothes and body during their final struggle. It was confirmed that the perpetrator was the same for all five cases.

The killer's true identity remained undiscovered, and the upper echelons of society were in a state of panic, fearing they would become the next victim.

I had some recollection of this news. Last month, when I saw it, I even considered joining the investigation myself. But because I was focused on investigating other strange tales and urban legends at the time, I didn't pay much attention to this bizarre local serial murder case.

I thought it was just another wealthy-hating, perverted serial killer who would soon be apprehended by the all-powerful official forces. Yet, so much time had passed, and the case had made no progress.

Could that mysterious girl be the killer in this case?

I felt something was off. Assuming the victims were shot to death, it wouldn't be described as "gruesome appearances."

Of course, if all five bodies had their heads blown off by a handgun, that would be another matter. But in such a situation, would there really be room for "the victim scratching the killer during their final struggle," and not just once? After all, with the range of a handgun, it wasn't very realistic for the victim to make close-quarters contact with the killer.

However... one shouldn't speak too definitively. Perhaps the girl's marksmanship was terrible, and she could only hit her target at close range. Or perhaps the girl used martial arts to commit the crimes, just like she used joint locks on me before.

And that policeman earlier did accuse the girl of being the killer. Plus, although the girl looked like a victim, she herself hadn't sustained any injuries.

If she really is the murderer, then what I'm doing now...

No, let's stop for a moment. There are still too few clues. It's too hasty to draw conclusions now.

Why don't I just ask her directly and see her reaction?

After the policeman finished his rounds on this floor, I turned to retrieve the handgun hidden behind the sofa, unlocked the safety again, and then went to the bedroom door, pushing it open.

The girl was sitting cross-legged on the bed, hugging her arms as if meditating, completely unconcerned about her state of undress.

She seemed to have stayed in the same spot, but I noticed subtle signs of disturbance in various places around the room. It looked like she had tiptoed around the bedroom to investigate while I was talking to the policeman, trying to uncover information about me.

Hearing the door open, her lowered head immediately snapped up. She quickly glanced behind me, then looked at me, a look of utter confusion on her face.

"Why are you hiding me?" she asked, frowning deeply, her tone laced with strong suspicion. "You heard it just now, didn't you? I'm a heinous serial killer. Aren't you just an ordinary citizen? Shouldn't you report me?"

"Then are you a murderer?" I asked her back.

"I'm not," she replied, firmly denying it at first. Then her expression faltered, and she seemed to become uncertain herself. "...Am I not?"

"Yes or no, I hope you can give me a definite answer."

"Yes and no," she said, her wording still imprecise, but her tone was firm. "At least, I haven't killed anyone in this era."

"That makes no sense," I said. "Are you trying to say you're from the future?"

"Answer my first question," her tone became forceful, attempting to regain control of the conversation. "Why are you hiding me?"

I had no intention of arguing with her for dominance, and had already prepared my response, answering fluently: "Because you are not the killer."

"What makes you say that?" she asked suspiciously.

"The cause of death for those victims was not gunshot wounds." I first threw her the phone displaying the webpage, then continued, "Besides, I don't think the killer in this case would end up like the victim, covered in blood and collapsing in the ruins in the middle of the night."

That was a lie. Although I hadn't seen direct evidence proving she was the killer, I had already prepared myself psychologically for that possibility, and to some extent, even prepared myself to deal with her secretly.

She persistently pressed on: "Even if you don't believe I'm the killer, you have no reason to hide me. Whether I'm the killer or not, the fact that I violated the laws of this era by possessing firearms and ammunition is true. Telling the police about me is what you should be doing."

"Didn't I say before that you were the one who told me not to call the police?" As I spoke, I slowly walked to the desk, first placing the handgun on the tabletop, then turning to face her. "I don't know what hidden circumstances you have, but since it involves firearms and ammunition, it means your secret is a matter of life and death.

"In my eyes, you are just a girl in tattered clothes, collapsing in the night. I want to step forward and protect you. Is something like that... really so strange?"

I don't know if my carefully prepared "lines" were too much, but she recoiled as if scalded, scrambling backward to the corner of the bed. Then, she swallowed and asked, dumbfounded, "Just, just... for this reason alone?"

At this point, I had to see this act through to the end, no matter how much I had to grit my teeth.

"Isn't that enough?"

"How could this be? Are people in this era really..." She wavered unexpectedly.

I had originally thought I would need to spend more time persuading her, but surprisingly, she seemed to believe me now.

But what did she mean by "this era" and "that era"? Did she have chuunibyou? Or did she truly have some hidden circumstances I couldn't imagine?

Just as I was about to voice my confusion again, she calmed her agitation first. After looking at me for a while, she slightly relaxed her guard and introduced herself: "My name is Maza. The 'Ma' from sesame, and the 'Za' from breakfast. What's your name?"

"I am Zhuang Cheng. The 'Zhuang' from solemn, and the 'Cheng' from success," I replied.

Maza seemed to make an important decision in her heart.

She straightened her posture, sat up properly on the bed, and placed her hands on her knees.

"Okay, Zhuang Cheng... Next, I am going to reveal my true identity and origin. I know you probably won't believe me, but I hope you will listen first."

Was she finally going to confess?

Wasn't this too fast? Was she going to tell the truth, or weave a lie to deceive me?

Filled with anticipation, I nodded: "Go ahead."

"Just as you said earlier, I don't belong to this era. I am someone who traveled here from the future." Her opening statement was earth-shattering. "And in the future, human civilization has been destroyed, and the world has entered an era of Doomsday."