Newcomer

A supermarket on the west side of campus.

One half of the rather old glass door stood open, with a promotional poster of a Korean pop star stuck to it.

The sequined, fitted suit did nothing to make the man in front of it stand out. If anything, it looked tacky as hell.

The Suit Man struck a long match, turned his face aside, and lit a cigarette.

Then he flicked his hand, putting out the flame.

Hat Man stood on the steps opposite him, washing down a dry piece of bread with bottled water.

Staring at the poster, the Suit Man gave a disdainful smile and slowly blew a mouthful of acrid smoke into the pop star's face. "Was everyone's taste really this bad back then?"

Hat Man had just finished his bread and was greedily licking the jam off his fingers.

But he wasn't looking at the Suit Man or the poster. His gaze was fixed on a group of girls.

His wolfish eyes roamed freely over them.

They were standing neither too close nor too far away, gathered in a circle.

Their clothes were rather revealing.

One of them was tall and slender, with her hair loose. Every now and then she glanced this way, a cigarette pinched between her fingers.

"If this weren't the Dream Realm, wouldn't this be wonderful?" Hat Man licked his cracked lips.

At that, the Suit Man lowered his head and carefully fastened the button on his right cuff. Then he smiled. "Stop dreaming. If we were in the real world, how would you dare come somewhere like this?"

"You'd be hiding away in some dark basement." The Suit Man didn't even look at him as he continued, "Don't forget, the police are looking for you everywhere."

The Suit Man's words seemed to drag Hat Man back to reality. His face stiffened, his composure vanished, and his smile faded by seven or eight parts.

He wiped his left hand on his clothes, then gripped the brim of his cap and pulled it down hard.

He stood in the shadows, and from the Suit Man's angle, only half his chin was visible.

"No need to be so nervous." There was something hard to pin down in the Suit Man's voice. He adjusted his collar, and a casual movement revealed the vibrant ukiyo-e lining of his suit.

"I'll keep your secret," the Suit Man said with a smile. "You know what I want."

"But we don't know who has the thing," Hat Man replied, his voice muffled.

"Then we'll look. One person at a time. We still have plenty of time. Qipao Woman died first, which means there's very little chance she had the thing. In other words, even if she did, someone has already taken it." The Suit Man seemed like a different person now, a demon lurking beneath his mild-mannered face.

But Hat Man seemed to realize something. He raised his head, his narrow eyes beneath the brim fixed on the Suit Man's face. "You mean someone arranged her death?"

His pupils were small and his sclerae large, giving him a sinister look if you stared too long.

"That's right." The Suit Man nodded.

"Who?"

"We don't know yet."

"Could it be the woman in Room 406?" Hat Man suddenly tensed. "There's something strange about her presence. She has calluses on her knuckles and the base of her thumb. Do you think... could she be a police officer?"

The Suit Man ran a finger over his chin. After a long pause, he replied, "Probably not. She gave me the impression of someone fierce and highly aggressive. A police officer shouldn't be like that."

Hat Man breathed a sigh of relief. "That's good."

"Heh." The Suit Man looked Hat Man up and down, his tone playful. "As long as you choose to work with me, it doesn't matter whether she's a police officer or not." He leaned forward, one corner of his mouth lifting. "Because... I won't let her leave alive."

The Suit Man stubbed out his cigarette and said coldly, "Just like those two idiots in Room 404."

"Achoo!"

Jiang Cheng sneezed hard.

The fat man hugged himself and asked with concern, "Doctor, are you coming down with a cold?"

Jiang Cheng shook his head, then looked around. "No. I expect someone's thinking of me again, telling the world from afar how much they miss me."

The fat man ignored the second half of Jiang Cheng's sentence.

They had been wandering around campus for quite a while, walking from the cafeteria to the field at the far west end, then taking another route back.

"Doctor," the fat man asked curiously, "where are we actually going? It feels like you're just wandering around aimlessly."

"Exactly." Jiang Cheng readily admitted it. "I am wandering around aimlessly."

The fat man was stunned. He understood less and less about what was going on in this man's head.

"I've had enough wandering." Jiang Cheng stopped, raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, and quickly got his bearings. Then he pointed down a path. "Let's go to the equipment room and meet up with the others first."

They had arranged that morning to meet in front of the equipment room at noon.

The walk was long, and the fat man's mind started wandering again. He sneaked several glances at Jiang Cheng, his lips twitching as if he wanted to ask something but couldn't bring himself to.

"You want to know who killed Qipao Woman, don't you?" Jiang Cheng said evenly.

He didn't use the usual questioning tone. He sounded as calm as if he were stating an established fact.

"Yes, yes." The fat man nodded repeatedly.

They had discussed the question earlier, too, but the ringing of a bell had interrupted them.

"The ghost in the mission killed her," Jiang Cheng said.

The fat man said anxiously, "Of course I know the ghost killed her. What I mean is—"

"I think it was Sleepwear Woman." Jiang Cheng stopped and turned to look at the fat man. "She used Qipao Woman's fear of the ghost to drive her out of Room 407, which led to her death."

The fat man was surprised by Jiang Cheng's conclusion, but he didn't doubt it for a moment.

He knew Jiang Cheng never joked about things like this.

"How did she do it?" The fat man suddenly grew agitated. "How could she—how could a newcomer dare?"

"I can't answer the first question yet," Jiang Cheng said. "But the second one is simple. She isn't a newcomer. Everything we saw—the fear, the cowardice, the screams, the tears, even the dinosaur pajamas she wore when she appeared—was part of her disguise."

"The Suit Man is nowhere near as good at maintaining an act." He shrugged. "Compared to her, he's a complete idiot."

The fat man gradually calmed down. He thought carefully about Sleepwear Woman, but couldn't recall anything suspicious. "Doctor," he said, looking up, "can you tell me what evidence you have?"