Little Sister?

There was a problem.

What did it feel like to watch Kayako crawl down the stairs in fast-forward?

At this moment, Tales must be answering in detail, tears streaming in fury:

It felt exactly like this!

Because the vengeful spirit, the mummy, the monster behind him ("What even is it? Does it matter?"—Tales, still shaken afterward), was on all fours, dragging its mutilated, charred body, yet moving toward him with uncanny speed and eeriness!

Holy shit!

Tales's soul nearly fled his body. He didn't even stop to think, "Does this creature have reason? Can it talk? Can we communicate? Can we 'talk it out' and avoid a fight?"

Right then, in that tiny room, fleeing for his life, Tales could even feel the liquid in his eye sockets spraying out without restraint!

But Tales soon regretted his decision.

Plain and simple, that monster-like mummy was way faster than Tales!

With a roar, it lunged and pounced, tackling Tales from behind!

"Thud!" Tales and the mummy rolled together, crashing to the ground.

His two days of un(extra)common (ordinary) expe(rotten)riences (luck) seemed to pay off. Instinctively, Tales yanked out the JC Dagger and, trembling, stabbed at the mummy!

He drove it deep into the mummy's heart—if it had one!

But Tales realized in terror that the mummy, pierced by the dagger, showed no reaction at all. It climbed onto his body, opened its black, horrifying maw toward his neck, and bared its equally charred, jagged fangs!

Was it because he was too scared, his hand shaking, that he hadn't even hit the mark? Tales felt the weight pressing down on him (strange—it wasn't heavy?) and thought in fear.

But it was too late for regret.

"Shhk!"

With a dull sound like tearing through worn leather, Tales felt in despair that the mummy had bitten through his neck.

Agony surged through him. Tales opened his mouth in pain, but his failing strength only let out a hoarse, muffled groan.

Under the pressure, all the blood in Tales's body rushed to the torn artery.

It's over, Tales thought in despair.

He who kills must be ready to be killed.

He recalled those words, remembered Quade, who died unwillingly, clutching his neck.

Tales let out a bitter laugh in his heart.

What goes around comes around.

Strangely, the blood that should have gushed out instead flowed quietly, obediently—

Into the mummy's mouth?

Tales, his neck bitten, caught a horrifying glimpse from the corner of his eye. The mummy, like a hose squeezed by uneven water pressure, was pulsing and swelling from its "mouth" to its neck, chest, abdomen, and every part of its body.

Like a thirsty traveler, madly gulping down a sweet spring.

Was the mummy... drinking blood?

In seconds, as blood loss increased, Tales's physical awareness began to numb, but his mind grew clearer!

So clear that everything in his brain reappeared before his eyes!

"Wu Qiren, for someone as scared of ghosts as you, what would you do if you actually met one?"

"Can you not bring that up? I still don't dare go up the stairs alone after dark since watching 'Ju-On' the night before last!"

"Don't worry! If you do meet one, just bite it, bite its neck! If it's one without a neck or with its head cut off—"

"Psycho! Stop it! Stop!"

"When you're tired from writing your thesis and look up to stretch, and it suddenly appears—"

The former Wu Qiren, annoyed, stepped forward and used his most familiar way to shut that person up.

Then, in the sweetness filling his mouth, he glimpsed her eyes, full of laughter.

Long lashes, bright pupils.

What a—cunning and treacherous person—Wu Qiren closed his eyes bitterly and continued pecking at his spoils.

Or, offering tribute to the true victor?)

Another memory settled into Tales's mind, but this one seemed different. After entering his memory bank, it didn't quietly slumber with its kin. Instead, it instantly expanded, grew, and vibrated, violently shoving Tales, who was fully immersed in his past life's memories, out of this illusory consciousness!

Tales's eyes snapped open!

In that moment, strength suddenly returned to him.

The mummy was still drinking his blood relentlessly, as if it wouldn't stop until it drained him dry.

Until the seven-year-old boy's hands, decisive and strong, grabbed its shoulders and neck!

"If you do meet one."

Tales gritted his teeth, gripped the mummy's body, and with all his remaining strength, forced his head up.

"Just bite it."

He opened his mouth, revealing small teeth.

"Bite it on the neck!"

He was like a creature without reason.

He sank his teeth viciously into the dried corpse's neck!

Like two lovers embracing in a kiss.

Time seemed to freeze again, until a cracking sound rang out from nowhere!

The neck of the charred, withered corpse wasn't as tough as it seemed. Tales's bite actually chipped a piece off!

A chunk of flesh of unknown texture was chewed twice in his fury and swallowed into his stomach.

An inappropriate thought suddenly flashed through Tales's mind.

Tastes like chicken. Crunchy.

Then he continued madly, eagerly, biting into the corpse's "wound."

Just like a vampire of the Tuval Family.

Until a stream of salty liquid abruptly flooded into Tales's mouth.

This red liquid, as Tales sucked relentlessly, poured into his throat in great gulps.

Just like his own blood—rushing into the dried corpse's body as if through a pump—the salty liquid inside the corpse was rapidly being drawn into him!

But the dried corpse seemed mindless and unaware, just like Tales himself, whose sanity had gone blank with madness.

But only a few seconds later.

He and that charred, withered corpse both shuddered at the same time!

"Heh—"

Then the dried corpse seemed to tremble, suddenly released its blood-drinking mouth, let out a piercing scream, and shoved Tales away!

After being pushed back, Tales froze for two seconds in the relief of survival, then immediately raised his hand to touch the wound on his neck artery!

Strangely, the neck, which should have been gushing blood, had no blood flowing at all. Only two warm, numb little holes, sticky and wet, remained at the wound.

In the dim room, the dried corpse seemed to have rediscovered something called "fear."

After shoving Tales away, it covered its own bitten neck, with Tales's dagger still stuck in its chest, and limped toward the Black Coffin it had crawled out of!

Tales didn't hesitate. He staggered to his feet from the ground and found that his nearly depleted strength had recovered a bit.

Except for the taste in his mouth—bleh, disgusting.

Wait, what was going on with that dried corpse?

Though countless questions swarmed his mind, he didn't hesitate to pounce on the fleeing corpse!

The tables had turned.

We have a score to settle.

Tales roared, reached out, and managed to pull it down.

The fallen corpse didn't stop. Before Tales could communicate with it using his teeth again, it leaped with astonishing height, grabbed the edge of the Black Coffin, and tumbled itself inside in an awkward posture.

Tales, holding onto one of its legs, was dragged along and fell into the huge black stone coffin.

"Thump!"

Tales landed as if in a pool of water, warm and wet liquid surging over his entire body.

This smell?

Salty. Fishy.

Blood?

From behind, Tales tightly hugged the writhing, struggling corpse.

Before he completely lost consciousness from drowning in "blood," Tales smiled beneath the surface.

Thankfully—he thought vaguely—

Thankfully, this thing still had a neck. And its head—hadn't been severed.

Time passed, unknown how long.

Tales woke up in the Black Coffin, which had inexplicably dried up.

Opening his eyes, he struggled to sit up. The first thing he did was cough violently, expelling blood and water from his body.

"Cough—cough—"

Tales licked a foreign object in his mouth, instantly realized what it was, and spat it out in disgust.

He panted, recovering for a few dozen more seconds.

His right hand immediately reached to his side, touching a cold, charred texture.

The mummy?

Tales kept groping until he confirmed that the mummy that had chased him like a dog had shattered into a dozen pieces, scattered across the giant coffin.

He let out a breath, forcing the nausea from his mouth.

The Black Coffin was pitch black.

Tales continued feeling around the cold coffin floor, touching something like a step. He barely managed to use it as a foothold to climb out of the man-high Black Coffin.

This thing wasn't like a coffin—more like a children's wading pool? Tales thought, understanding how that small mummy had climbed out of such a tall coffin.

He finally scrambled out of the Black Coffin on all fours, landing on the ground with a thud.

Familiar sounds of battle reached his ears, including a woman's light shouts and the Earl's loud commands.

Face-down, Tales rubbed his sore shoulder and struggled to prop himself up—wondering how the fight outside was going.

Then, just as Tales lifted his head.

He froze.

In front of him stood a person.

A small person.

To be precise, a Silver-Haired Girl, looking pitifully small under the moonlight, taking unsteady, faltering steps.

With effort, one step.

With effort, another step.

The small figure, pausing with each step and wobbling, walked toward Tales, who had just climbed out of the Black Coffin.

Until she stopped before him, straining to stand.

She had red pupils, a pale complexion, tender skin, frail Limbs, and a cute face with a hint of baby fat.

But this "small person" was now coldly, condescendingly, even arrogantly, looking down at Tales on the ground.

Tales stared for a long time, thought for a long time, then, full of confusion, climbed to his feet.

Then he got a clear look at her whole body.

She still said nothing, just stared at him sharply.

A long moment passed.

Tales seemed to suddenly realize something. The unusual seven-year-old boy rarely blushed, scratched his head, and gave an awkward laugh.

"Little, little sister."

He lowered his voice, embarrassed, hesitating, stammering weakly:

"Um."

"Why are you."

"Not wearing any clothes?"

The naked little sister stood alone on the ground, a full head shorter than the scrawny seven-year-old boy.

She looked at him with unfriendly eyes.

Tales, getting no response, felt very awkward.

Luckily, the awkwardness lasted only a few seconds.

Because Tales suddenly saw, in the middle of that "little sister's" chest.

A dagger was stuck.

The blood on the dagger hadn't dried yet.

Two letters were engraved on the blade:

JC.

Tales's hand, still scratching his head, went stiff.

The boy wasn't stupid. Besides, even in a pulp novel, villains protected by idiot auras would have caught on by now.

Of course, he remembered how he'd just stabbed that dagger into the mummy's heart.

But the "little sister," naked and utterly unbothered, kept staring coldly at him.

She said nothing, her round little face expressionless, her blood-red pupils reflecting Tales's figure.

Tales slowly lowered his hand, steadied his breath, his gaze switching between the cute, eerie little sister before him and the terrifying, ghostly mummy in his memory.

Really—creepy.

Tales took a deep breath.

The naked red-eyed girl (mummy) kept staring at him with that look, like a statue.

Anyone stared at by something like this for so long would start to feel their skin crawl.

Tales forced down a gulp of saliva, put on a relaxed smile, thought it over, and swallowed back the line "What brand of sunscreen repair cream is that?"

Now is not the time for probing.

Though she seemed cute, if she was the same dried corpse from before, she was most likely devoid of reason—

"Who are you?"

A childish voice sounded from ahead.

Hmm, even though the little girl's gaze hadn't changed.

The words coming out of her mouth were still clear, coherent, and rational.

Compared to the earlier shrieks of a vengeful ghost reborn, they were sweet, adorable, and—

Wait.

Tales stared wide-eyed in shock, carefully observing this bizarre, silver-haired, crimson-eyed little girl.

She could speak.

She had reason.

She wasn't wearing clothes—bah!

She could communicate!

Then, Tales's long-dormant mind, jolted by the shock, began to spin smoothly and familiarly.

Trust me, I'm about to write a cliché routine where a soft, fluffy loli vampire clings to the protagonist, crying and begging to marry him! (Creepy grin)