Chapter 25: Where did you get your dad from?
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation
Miles delved deep into an online forum and soon stumbled upon an in-depth article detailing the various classifications of malicious ghosts.
Upon examining the article, he was immediately met with a bolded cautionary statement: “Ghosts have been categorized by multiple global authorities based on the degree of threat they present to humanity.”
It further clarified: “This classification does not necessarily correlate with the terror level or fear factor associated with the entity.”
C-level: Known as the Restrained class.
These are spirits that are bound within specific boundaries or locations. They present a danger to a limited number of individuals, specifically fewer than a hundred. Ghost tamers, individuals with special abilities, can successfully control and contain them. Importantly, these spirits don’t have the capacity to spread their malevolence beyond their confined area.
B-level: Termed the Dangerous class.
These spirits are far more sinister, with the ability to roam freely. Although they pose a grave threat, their harm is still somewhat contained, affecting fewer than ten thousand individuals. Their containment is impossible, but with some effort, ghost tamers might control them. These spirits can infect others with their malevolence to a certain extent.
A-level: The Disaster class.
These ghostly entities have the potential to decimate an entire city’s populace if left unchecked over a specified duration. Their sheer terror is incomparable, and to date, there’s no known method to either control or contain them. Their malevolence is highly infectious.
S-level: The Destruction class.
These are the most catastrophic spirits. Their reach and power can annihilate multiple city populations, and if not intervened, they can potentially obliterate an entire nation.
Miles pondered on the information, summarizing, “These classifications determine the risk they pose to human populations, not the sheer terror or horror they evoke.” Even if two spirits induce the same level of fear, a C-level spirit’s limited harm potential keeps it from being categorized higher.
He remarked, almost nonchalantly, “These labels are merely indicative. In essence, they don’t alter the reality.” These calamity scales were conceptualized by various global authorities. In a face-off with an actual ghost, the end result is inevitably death. Whether it’s a single person or an entire populace, death remains an unchangeable conclusion.
Engrossed, Miles scanned other related documents.
Suddenly, a particular title grabbed his attention: “Global Vengeful Ghost Rankings.”
He mumbled sarcastically, “They’ve really outdone themselves with this one. Why not create a ranking for female ghosts based on beauty next? Perhaps even stage a bikini fashion show for them.” As he accessed the list, an eerie chill ran down his spine.
His jovial demeanor vanished in an instant.
At the very top of the vengeful spirits list was a code-named entity: Ghost Caller.
Its description was bone-chilling: Upon hearing a phone ring, immediate death ensues. It doesn’t matter if the call is answered or ignored, whether the ringing is audible or silent, or even if a phone is in proximity. This spirit ruthlessly takes lives globally. It doesn’t manifest physically but operates like an unbreakable law of action and reaction. Currently, no solution exists to counteract this menace. The silver lining, if it can be called that, is that a single ghost call claims only one life. For now, it’s ranked as B-level.
Important Update: A foreign nation’s president has tragically succumbed to the Ghost Call.
Miles’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “How is this even possible?” he thought, staring at the screen in utter shock.
The Ghost Call was seemingly undefeatable. The mere sound of a ringing phone heralded certain death. The chilling fact remained that it didn’t matter if you owned or carried a phone; its absence provided no sanctuary. Alarmingly, even the deaf weren’t spared. Devoid of the ability to hear, they too fell victim to this insidious spirit.
Ranked second on the global vengeful ghosts list was an entity codenamed: Nightmare.
Its operational pattern was terrifyingly simple: people died during their slumber. The current pattern or criteria it used to select its victims remained shrouded in mystery. It exhibited no tangible physical form, but its malevolence was far-reaching, claiming victims indiscriminately across the globe. In one reported incident, it was responsible for the simultaneous deaths of 351 people. Presently, it was categorized as an A-level threat.
A disturbing note added, “To evade Nightmare, one must forgo sleep entirely.”
The third name to haunt this list was coined the Ghoul.
As Miles delved deeper into the information, a profound sense of despair gripped him.
These spirits spared no one. Their killing was ruthless, with victims chosen without rhyme or reason. From the world’s richest magnates to the impoverished on the streets, from the common citizen to even the highest echelons of political power – no one was safe. The mere knowledge of these ghostly entities’ existence must have cast a pall of terror globally.
However, after absorbing the initial shock, Miles’s rational side emerged. “Given the planet’s population, the odds of running afoul of these spirits is arguably minimal. If one does and meets their end, it’s just a cruel twist of fate,” he mused, attempting to reassure himself.
Deciding to take a short break, he remarked, “I’ll be back after a quick restroom visit.” After an hour of relentless browsing, he rose from his chair.
Upon entering the dimly lit living room, Miles noted his father engrossed in a newspaper, seemingly oblivious to the lack of light. “Dad, why are you straining your eyes reading in the dark? Turn on a light,” he gently admonished.
The older man remained absorbed in his reading, offering no response. Deciding not to disturb him further, Miles proceeded with his break.
Returning, he felt an overwhelming urge to decipher the mysteries that now surrounded him. The ancient parchment he’d discovered ominously predicted he wouldn’t live beyond the next three months.
Yet, he clung to a glimmer of hope. He remembered a conversation with his schoolmate, Jing, who once alluded to a method that could save ghost tamers from the wrath of resurgent spirits. However, with Jing’s untimely death, this potential lifeline seemed lost. Moreover, the original content of the document had been altered, leaving Miles without a clear guide. Yet, his resolve remained unshaken.
Determined, he thought, “I must brace myself for the worst even as I search relentlessly for survival means.”
As he continued his search, a tantalizing lead appeared on his screen: “Ghosts can influence virtually every material substance. However, there exists a singular exception – gold.”
By: Dr. Bruce P.
Intrigued, Miles clicked on the research paper, eager to unearth its contents.
Miles eagerly clicked open the article, ready to immerse himself further. However, his attention was abruptly pulled away when he heard a phone ring beside him.
His gaze darted to the source of the sound. It was Right’s specialized satellite locator phone, a device not meant for typical communication.
Raising an eyebrow, he hesitated momentarily before picking it up. “Hello, who’s this?” He kept the article on the screen, skimming through it even as he spoke.
Rain’s unmistakable, seething voice crackled from the other end, “You thought you could fool me? You aren’t William; you’re Miles. I have your details: originally from Miles Township, born on the first of January, nineteen years by the solar calendar and twenty by the lunar one.”
Miles face remained impassive. Rather than feeling caught, he replied with a mocking tone, “Took you long enough. I had expected you to figure this out six hours ago. And honestly, why should I blindly trust an unfamiliar call? What if you were a con artist? Misleading you was merely a precaution.”
Rain’s frustration was palpable. “Do you grasp how much your deception has set us back?”
His voice dropped an octave, signaling his seriousness, “Understand this: any such antics from your end won’t be tolerated in the future. We’re stretched thin, dealing with multiple pressing matters. If everyone started playing games like you, we’d be in chaos.”
“Perhaps from where you stand,” Miles retorted sharply, “But don’t forget that I’m not one of your subordinates.”
Just then, Miles noticed the middle-aged man entering from the living room and settling onto the bed beside him. The man, with a familiar air about him, didn’t utter a word and merely continued reading the newspaper while never once lowering the item.
“Dad?” Miles murmured, momentarily distracted from the call.
Rain, overhearing this, questioned sharply, “Who are you talking to? It’s crucial that you keep our interactions private. Involving outsiders could incite unnecessary panic. I hope you understand the gravity of discretion.”
“My dad just joined me,” Miles replied, eager to end the conversation, “But let’s continue this later. I have more pressing matters at hand.”
Rain’s voice took on an alarmed tone, “Your dad? Miles, something’s not right. According to our records, which spans from your birth till now, your father perished in a car crash when you were in fifth grade. Since then, your mother has been your sole caregiver. It’s also documented that she never remarried, implying you’ve been in a single-parent household since your pre-teen years.”
Miles frowned, clearly annoyed, “My dad is right here with me, engrossed in his newspaper. What kind of nonsensical information are you spouting?”
His eyes then shifted towards the man on his bed, who continued to remain eerily silent with the newspaper covering the face. The room’s ambiance seemed to change; the only light came from the computer screen’s dim glow, barely illuminating the man’s form. Miles began to feel uneasy, a chilling realization slowly dawning upon him.
“Dad, is everything alright?” Miles inquired, his voice laden with a mixture of concern and bewilderment. He reached out, intending to gently shift the newspaper to get a clearer view of his father’s face.
But as he did so, his eyes were involuntarily drawn to a framed black-and-white photograph hanging on a nearby cabinet. The image showcased a man, unmistakably his father, in his prime. The very same man who, according to every record and memory Miles could recall, had died years ago.
His heart raced, a cold sweat forming on his brow. He tried to make sense of the dissonance between what he knew to be true and what he was witnessing. The room, which had always been a haven for him, now felt alien and charged with an inexplicable tension.
Rain’s voice, filled with palpable alarm, broke through Miles’s daze. “Miles, something is gravely amiss on your end. For your own safety, you need to get out of your house this very moment!”
Hmm.. he’s either really unlucky or he’s a walking ghost magnet