Chapter 26: The Person Absent from Memory
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation
At first glance, there seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary about the scene: a middle-aged man sat on a bed, engrossed in a newspaper. However, what struck as odd was the deep darkness enveloping the room, making it virtually impossible for anyone to read.
Miles recalled that the man had remained in that very position for an unusually long time. It seemed humanly impossible for someone to stay so still since the moment Miles began browsing the internet. The only change was the man’s transition from the couch in the living room to the bed in the bedroom.
This mere relocation from a distant spot to a closer one should have been comforting, but it wasn’t. Instead, it induced an eerie feeling, a looming sense of danger that Miles couldn’t put a finger on.
“Why is my dad sitting next to me reading in such dim light? Has he ever done this before?” he wondered.
Miles’s gaze then drifted to a framed picture hanging on the wardrobe. As he tried to connect the dots, he remembered Rain’s anxious voice. If her information about a particular document was accurate, then the chilling possibility arose: Could this man not truly be his father?
He looked familiar, of course, but simultaneously out of place. A distressing thought crossed Miles’s mind. Had his father really perished in a car accident when he was younger?
To Miles, everything about the man seemed genuine, as if there was no pretense. Yet, an unsettling feeling persisted. He hesitated to move the newspaper blocking the man’s face. Instead, he swiftly grabbed his phone and stood up without warning, putting as much distance between them as possible.
Could his memories have been manipulated? Was he simply hallucinating, or was there something uncanny about the entire building?
“First thing’s first, I need to get out of here. I’ll piece together the truth later,” Miles thought, torn between the fear of the unfamiliar and the comfort of the known.
Treading lightly, Miles stealthily made his way from the bedroom to the living room, careful not to alert the man. He wanted to catch a glimpse of his face, but something else caught his eye: a disturbing crimson stain on the newspaper’s edge, looking wet as if drenched in fresh blood.
Who could possibly read a blood-stained newspaper?
Suddenly, everything clicked for Miles. Rain’s information was valid. His real father had tragically died in a car accident when Miles was just a child. The unsettling file she mentioned must be genuine. The person in the room, posing as his father, couldn’t possibly be real. The dead don’t come back to life.
If his father was indeed no longer of this world, the chilling realization that the man sitting on his bed engrossed in a newspaper could be an ethereal spirit became impossible to ignore.
A cold shiver gripped him as he tried to process this eerie possibility.
How did this all begin?
At what point did this haunted being infiltrate his home, take form in his bedroom, and tamper with his cherished memories?
Had he been unknowingly sharing his living space with this spirit for an extended period?
If Rain hadn’t intervened with her call, would he have continued his life, naively unaware of this haunting presence?
Such thoughts sent icy tendrils of fear spiraling through his being.
Just as he contemplated leaving the room, the man with the newspaper made an abrupt movement. His head swiveled at a disconcertingly rapid pace, locking eyes with Miles. Yet, what should’ve resembled a face was merely a smooth, featureless expanse of flesh!
A primal surge of fear washed over Miles. He whispered to himself, “I need to get out!” and promptly turned to flee.
His newfound belief was cemented.
This entity was unmistakably a ghost.
However, as he turned to escape, his vision was suddenly obscured. A thick newspaper, reeking of decay and drenched in what seemed like freshly spilled blood, adhered to his face, sticking with a relentless grip. Panicking, Miles tried to pull it away, but it felt as if the paper had melded with his skin. Each desperate pull was met with agonizing pain, rendering his efforts futile.
“Is this ghost trying to harm me now?” He thought in alarm.
Then he recalled what was said during the school class last night with Right at the board.
“The only way to fend off a ghost is with another ghost.”
Determinedly, an eye radiating a dim red glow emerged from the palm of his hand.
Harnessing the power of this newly manifested eye, Miles finally managed to start peeling the blood-soaked newspaper from his face, much like the painful removal of a stubborn adhesive bandage.
Yet, the ordeal was far from over. Miles could feel the ghost presence rapidly approaching from behind. Either he’d be asphyxiated by the ghostly newspaper or face a grim end at the hands of the spirit.
“You want to play games? Very well. You might be a ghost, but I am more than just a man,” he growled, his voice dripping with menace.
Two glowing crimson eyes burst forth from his face.
Upon their appearance, the clinging newspaper was shredded, torn apart by an unseen force. The threatening pull from behind weakened instantly.
“Bring it on,” Miles whispered defiantly.
Relying on these powerful eyes was a perilous gamble. Each use brought him closer to a potential end. But in this dire situation, he had little choice. He would either harness this ethereal strength within him or succumb to the haunting presence.
A third eye unexpectedly emerged, opening right in the middle of Miles’s forehead.
A sharp “Shh~!” sound echoed as the blood-saturated newspaper, which previously covered his forehead, tore apart. The intense pressure and disorientation that had plagued him lifted significantly, allowing him some semblance of clarity.
“Come on, just a bit more!” Miles could feel that the power from his newly sprouted eyes still wasn’t enough to combat the ghostly assault. He willed another eye, the fifth one, to appear on his neck. This caused the newspaper around that area to begin tearing apart as well.
With renewed determination and strength, Miles managed to pull and rip apart the remnants of the constricting, blood-drenched newspaper from his head. The immediate relief was palpable as the weight of suffocation vanished, replaced by the rush of cool, life-giving air filling his lungs.
Now, including the new eyes on his forehead and neck, Miles’s face was adorned with four more eerie eyes that emitted a soft, sinister red glow.
Wasting no time, he quickly scanned the room. To his astonishment, it was devoid of any other presence except for the shredded remnants of the bloodied newspaper strewn about.
“I have to leave, now!”
His heart pounding with adrenaline surging, Miles didn’t think twice. Ignoring his belongings, he flung open the door and sprinted away, eager to put distance between himself and that haunted space.
Moments after his rapid departure, a shadowy figure began to materialize within the room Miles had just left. The entity methodically gathered the torn bits of the newspaper, painstakingly piecing them back together.
In no time, the paper was restored to its original form, bathed in its hauntingly deep shade of red. But this time, imprinted on the surface was a face — a hauntingly familiar face, replicating Miles’s features.
The ghostly figure, with the restored newspaper in hand, then settled onto a nearby couch. Striking a pose identical to his earlier one, he became still, fixating on the newspaper once more.
Time seemed to blur, with hours seemingly passing in mere moments.
Out of the blue, the figure stirred. He lowered the newspaper, and his appearance had transformed. This wasn’t the faceless ghost from before. It now bore an uncanny resemblance to Miles.
Yet, upon closer inspection, where the eyes had previously sprouted on this “Miles,” there were unsettling voids, giving the impression of a photograph with pieces carelessly snipped away.
Though the face was eerily reminiscent of Miles, it was unmistakably marred and incomplete.