A strange transformation!

He reached out,

found the switch,

flipped it,

and with a click,

the light came on.

Kallen continued downstairs and entered the basement.

The sense of something being "frightening" often came not from anything tangible, but from "one's own imagination."

When the Immerlis Family's basement had been renovated, they certainly hadn't been foolish enough to design it to feel "sinister" or "oppressive." But at night, even if you painted every wall Barbie pink, knowing two corpses were lying inside would keep you from finding it "cozy" or "cute."

The crying continued.

It came from Aunt Mary's workroom.

Kallen walked to the workroom door. It wasn't locked... because there was no conceivable reason to lock it.

Kallen stopped. Rather than immediately turning the handle, he first looked back over his shoulder.

The lights kept the corridor behind him from being pitch-black, but the spiral ramp leading from the basement to the first floor remained dim and indistinct.

He closed his eyes,

and took a deep breath.

Kallen hoped to catch the sweet scent of warm milk.

Unfortunately, he didn't have a dog's nose.

Thinking of the dog,

Kallen glanced down.

The golden retriever that had been so friendly after he let it into the house hadn't followed him into the basement.

That damned dog really wasn't worth loving.

He reached out,

and grasped the door handle.

In an instant,

as if a "channel" had suddenly changed, a dazed sensation swept over him. It wasn't strong, but its presence was unmistakable.

Then,

the "crying" inside the workroom abruptly stopped.

Kallen looked back again. The bulb overhead in the corridor behind him still shone at its usual brightness.

"Click..."

He turned the handle,

pulled open the door,

then reached out, found the switch beside the doorway as quickly as he could, and pressed it at once.

"Click..."

The workroom light came on.

Light,

plenty of light,

could provide tremendous psychological comfort.

Jeff and Mr. Mossan lay on the two Stretcher Carts in the workroom.

Jeff's face was covered in makeup, leaving him "radiant."

It was visibly rather heavy. His hair had also been parted down the middle and slicked with gel, making him look... exceptionally lively. Jeff probably hadn't looked this lively even when he was alive.

Mr. Mossan looked considerably more "normal." Rather than heavy makeup, greater attention had been paid to details and a natural appearance. He looked as if he really were fast asleep.

Aunt Mary had shown considerable "favoritism" in her work. Here, the difference between a Welfare Form and a regular order was plain to see.

Of course, if Aunt Mary had known beforehand that Mr. Mossan's children intended to cremate him, he probably would have ended up competing with young Jeff beside him over who looked more "glamorous."

Kallen walked past Jeff. The crying earlier had sounded aged, clearly not something a young man like "Jeff" would produce. It could only have been... Mr. Mossan.

But after standing before Mr. Mossan,

Kallen saw only Mr. Mossan lying there peacefully, with nothing else "abnormal."

He reached out, pulled over a round stool with wheels underneath, sat down, and propped his feet on the lower rail of the Stretcher Cart.

Kallen tilted his head slightly,

and simply kept staring at Mr. Mossan.

Meanwhile,

from time to time, he watched the corridor through the workroom's open door out of the corner of his eye... well, mainly the ramp at its far end.

A quarter of an hour passed.

Throughout those fifteen minutes, everything remained quiet.

Whether you're a person or a ghost,

show yourself.

Give me some kind of response, will you?

Kallen sighed and prepared to leave. At this hour, a warm bed was still more appealing.

He stood up,

and as he passed Mr. Mossan,

Kallen noticed that the button at Mr. Mossan's neck had come undone, so he instinctively reached out to fasten it.

However,

the moment his fingertips touched the skin of Mr. Mossan's neck,

Kallen was suddenly struck by dizziness.

It felt like the dizziness from smoking, and his body staggered with it.

Kallen immediately steadied himself, pressing his back against the wall.

"Wah... wah..."

The sobbing sounded again.

Kallen immediately raised his head.

Directly before him, Mr. Mossan still lay there.

But in the corner off to one side, another figure seemed to have appeared, curled up with his arms around his knees, crying.

At the sight, Kallen didn't scream in fear. He had already prepared himself thoroughly for this.

And for Kallen, seeing a "ghost" was much better than "not seeing a ghost."

The latter would force him to question whether something was wrong with his "brain" or his "mental state."

So, rather than accepting "I'm mentally ill," Kallen preferred to accept "this is a deranged world."

"Mr. Mossan?"

Kallen called out to the figure curled up in the corner.

But the figure seemed not to hear him at all. He gave no response, merely continuing to sob to himself.

Kallen straightened and walked toward "Mr. Mossan," but his "vision" seemed somehow "separated" from "reality." As he approached Mr. Mossan, the distance between them didn't shrink. Instead, it remained constant.

Even when Kallen's face was almost pressed against the opposite wall,

"Mr. Mossan" remained curled up in the "distant" corner.

The sight of a "ghost" had yet to frighten Kallen, and this "supernaturally constant distance" only made him want to investigate.

"So what I'm seeing isn't a real presence?"

After saying this, Kallen bit his lower lip.

"That was a pointless thing to say."

Then,

Kallen tried spreading his hands and slowly shifting the direction he faced.

The next moment,

the curled-up figure of "Mr. Mossan" began moving with him. No, sliding sideways.

It felt

as though a projector had been mounted on his forehead.

Was this... a soul?

Kallen wasn't certain what this thing was "made of." With that distance between them, he had no way to reach out and touch it.

But,

Kallen suddenly had an idea.

As Kallen continued turning, the sobbing "Mr. Mossan" and the Mr. Mossan lying on the Stretcher Cart came to lie in the same direction.

Once he had adjusted the direction,

Kallen began to "focus."

He stepped back and forth, bringing "Mr. Mossan" and Mr. Mossan as close to overlapping as possible.

In truth, Kallen didn't know why he was doing this, but it seemed only natural. A "ghost" ought to be put together with his corpse. It was worth trying, at least, wasn't it?

When the two overlapped,

Kallen clearly saw the curled-up "Mr. Mossan" suddenly stop crying. Then he stood up in bewilderment and, under Kallen's "gaze," lay down on Mr. Mossan's body.

The entire process was quick, incredibly smooth and fluid.

And the instant the two overlapped completely,

Kallen felt as though a hand had suddenly seized his "brain." Yes, his "brain"-not his forehead, not the back of his head, not his scalp, but deep inside his brain.

With a squelch,

it clenched tight,

and yanked outward!

"Ugh..."

Kallen let out a pained grunt and collapsed to his knees. Thankfully, his hands instinctively braced against the tiled floor, or he would have paid tribute to Mr. Hoffen's performance earlier that day.

Even so,

Kallen clearly saw drops of blood falling onto the blue-and-white tiles before him.

His nose... was bleeding again.

Covering his nose with one hand, Kallen struggled to stand back up.

As he rose,

Mr. Mossan, lying on the Stretcher Cart with his makeup already finished, slowly sat up as well.

Their movements were almost synchronized, silently synchronized.

"Uh..."

Kallen let out a low cry.

Though he knew all this "courting death" had resulted from his own initiative, seeing a corpse sit upright before him still delivered an unavoidable shock to his mind.

That shock brought a little panic, a little confusion, a little bewilderment, and... absolute excitement.

Mr. Mossan gradually changed positions, shifting from sitting on the Stretcher Cart to kneeling and bowing on it. His eyes were open, but colorless, a monotonous grayish white.

"Please... please... don't burn me... don't burn me... cremation of the flesh... cannot be forgiven... cremation of the flesh... cannot be forgiven..."

Kallen swallowed,

watching Mr. Mossan "worship" and "plead" before him in the manner of a religious ritual.

Aunt Mary had mentioned that the doctrines Mr. Mossan believed in forbade followers from cremating their bodies. For a devout believer, there were only two things through which to demonstrate fidelity to his faith... "birth" and "death."

Birth was the "birth" of entering the faith, while death marked his own end and also led into "birth" in the religious sense.

The "crying" he had heard earlier had come from Mr. Mossan's grief.

"Mr. Mossan? Mr. Mossan?"

Kallen tried calling to him.

"Please... don't burn me... please... don't burn me..."

Mr. Mossan simply kept repeating his plea.

Oh.

So he couldn't engage in a two-way conversation, and only an "instinct" remained?

Or, to use the explanation familiar from my previous life... an obsession.

But how had any of this happened?

Aunt Mary, Uncle Mason, Mina, and the others had never mentioned corpses undergoing "strange transformations." In other words, this world should have been normal in the eyes of ordinary people.

But first there had been "Jeff," and now Mr. Mossan.

Having encountered such corpse-related transformations twice in succession,

Kallen had to suspect... no, he could be almost certain that all of this was inseparably connected to him. The trigger must have been something within him.

Was it because of the original "Kallen," or because I had "awakened"?

"Please... don't burn me... don't burn me... don't burn me! Don't burn me! Don't burn me!!!"

Kallen noticed that Mr. Mossan was speaking faster. His shoulders began trembling slightly, and his previously lusterless eyes were gradually filling with blood vessels.

In the air,

a dangerous atmosphere began to spread.

"Mr. Mossan?"

Kallen called to him tentatively again, while beginning to shift his body.

The way this had begun was rather bizarre, but its development seemed to be following a "normal course" he could understand. For instance... what a corpse would do after suddenly "coming back to life."

However, just as Kallen moved around Mr. Mossan's side,

Mr. Mossan abruptly raised his head.

"You actually intend to... burn me!"

All at once,

Mr. Mossan's eyes were completely flooded with blood-red, and his body violently flung itself up;

Yes, flung itself up. His muscles, his bones, the coordination of his entire body seemed nonexistent at that moment, yet he still jerked upright, like a fish thrown onto shore, leaping!

Bang!

Kallen felt a heavy blow slam into his back, sending him pitching forward.

As soon as he fell, Kallen planted both hands on the floor and rolled over. By then, Mr. Mossan had clambered onto him, both hands darting toward Kallen's neck.

Kallen raised his knee to drive it into Mr. Mossan;

But this body was rather weak to begin with, its constitution poor, and Mr. Mossan now weighed even more than he had when alive.

Not only did Kallen's knee fail to lift him, but under Mr. Mossan's weight... it was forced flat.

"You actually... dared to burn me!!!"

Mr. Mossan opened his mouth,

And bit straight down on Kallen's chest.

Thud!

It felt as though a stone had struck Kallen's chest. It hurt, but the mangled flesh he had expected never materialized, because Mr. Mossan had lost most of his teeth long before he died and had needed dentures to eat.

So Mr. Mossan's bite had accomplished absolutely nothing.

But Mr. Mossan's hands had already reached Kallen's neck and begun to squeeze. His legs and torso clung tightly to Kallen, wrapping around him like an octopus.

Kallen strained with both hands to break free, but his struggles now seemed futile.

With almost no way out,

Pinned against the tiles, Kallen could only turn his head toward the workshop doorway;

"You dared to burn me!!!"

Mr. Mossan was like a madman!

Crack!

It sounded like metal striking metal, or a light bulb shattering,

Or perhaps,

Like a snap of the fingers?

Kallen could no longer distinguish the sound clearly, but relief washed over him. Whew... I'm saved.

Yet after that sound rang out,

"Aaaaaaah!!!!!!! Burn me! Burn me! Burn me!"

Mr. Mossan, already "like a madman," now went completely berserk.

Kallen immediately felt the hands around his neck tighten far more forcefully than before. His neck was truly on the verge of being snapped.

Like a sausage held at both ends by two hands twisting in opposite directions, waiting for one end to... burst;

Kallen now had the illusion that his "eyes," "ears," and "nose" were about to burst.

"You actually dared... to burn me!"

"You actually... me!"

"You actually..."

"Burn..."

Suddenly,

Mr. Mossan seemed to reach his limit. His body stiffened, then collapsed.

With the pressure on his neck gone, Kallen began gulping down air. The basement air was hardly fresh, but at that moment, it tasted unusually sweet;

That was no exaggeration. His throat was bleeding, and blood from his nose had seeped into his mouth as well.

Kallen pushed Mr. Mossan off him, braced both hands against the floor, and slowly shifted away. Once his back rested against the wall, he stopped.

He turned his head,

And glanced outside the doorway again,

Nearby, the hallway light cast a dim yellow glow. Farther away, everything remained pitch-black;

Kallen propped his face in his hand,

After a moment,

He used his bloodstained palm to pat his forehead a few times,

"Heh heh heh..."

He laughed,

Then, after laughing, took another deep breath,

And in Chinese, a language that did not exist in this world,

He cursed this world over and over:

"Motherfucker, what kind of bullshit world is this..."

At the ramp leading from the basement to the first floor,

Dis stood there,

Beside his face was the black cat Puer, crouched on a first-floor stair at the same height;

Dis turned to look at Puer,

And asked:

"Was what he said at the end the language of otherworldly demons?"

The black cat raised her head,

And looked at Dis,

The next moment,

She actually spoke in a woman's voice, uttering human words:

"I've lived for two hundred years, and I've never heard of an otherworldly demon... inventing its own language."

Then,

Puer added:

"Let alone one so... complex and obscure."