Chapter 77: In Truth, I am a Good Person
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation
As the echo of the gunshot faded, an eerie silence enveloped the hall.
Miles, seemingly undisturbed, sat gracefully on the sofa. His outward calmness was striking, yet the cold indifference in his gaze as he surveyed the club’s patrons was unsettling. Adjacent to him lay the lifeless body of Page. From a gruesome wound, a putrid liquid seeped out, slowly pooling around the corpse. The intensity of his death was evident from the violence with which the liquid spread. His head, shockingly disfigured, bore the brunt of every bullet discharged from a custom-made handgun.
The entire confrontation, from the first gunshot to the subsequent silence, spanned a mere ten seconds.
It had been a ruthless and efficient act devoid of any hesitation. Page was granted no window for pleas or negotiation.
Clearing his throat, Miles addressed the crowd, “Is there anyone else here who wants to enlighten me on the traditions, respected seniors?”
Pausing momentarily, he continued with an earnest tone, “I genuinely aspire to be a decent human being. I trust you all to grant me the opportunity to demonstrate that. I deeply regret my actions moments ago and hope you can look beyond them. Don’t misconstrue my true nature. I’m not innately evil. A fleeting lapse of judgment, something I’m certain many can empathize with, yes?”
From somewhere in the crowd, a voice piped up, “Youthful impulsiveness can be forgiven; who hasn’t erred in their time?”
Yet another voice retorted, dripping with sarcasm, “You blew a hole into a man without hesitation and then preached about wanting to be noble? Your audacity borders on absurdity. An act as heinous as murder followed by an apology? How is that atonement?”
As many looked on with discontent, a palpable tension hung in the air, their faces a tapestry of unease and uncertainty.
Miles had established himself as a force to reckon with. Despite the murmurings of dissatisfaction, nobody dared confront him directly.
Yet, there lingered the uncanny possibility that Page might not be completely gone.
Should he truly be deceased, his vengeful spirit’s emergence was a foreboding prospect.
Without warning, a twitch emanated from Page’s corpse, catching Miles’s attention immediately.
Was it merely a post-mortem reflex, or was a wrathful spirit on the verge of awakening?
The spasms intensified, with Page’s limbs grotesquely twisting and contorting. The already foul smell grew more potent, with the decaying liquid further tainting the atmosphere.
The rapid decay was baffling. By its progression, one would deduce that the corpse had been festering for at least a week and a half. It was surreal to recall that mere moments ago, this very man was casually sipping drinks and conversing at the bar.
From a corner of the room, Stretch, an observer of the entire debacle, chimed in, “Assuming Page is truly no more, this situation is an utter catastrophe. How do you all propose we handle the aftermath?”
When a ghost tamer unexpectedly meets their demise and releases their captive spirit, it’s akin to an unpredicted catastrophe. Even with several experienced ghost tamers in the vicinity, not many would voluntarily step forward to utilize their abilities to address such a situation.
Miles cast a fleeting, sharp gaze, taking in the sight of Page’s body, which was violently twitching and convulsing. Strikingly, there wasn’t even a trace of fear evident in his demeanor. If he wasn’t apprehensive around Page when he was alive, what reason would he have to fear him after death? This was particularly true given the notorious reputation ghost tamers have of becoming even more menacing post-mortem.
“You’re still struggling? I’m eager to see how you manage that after I’ve shattered every bone in your body,” Miles commented dryly. With a slight movement of his wrist, a collapsible baton became visible, a tool synonymous with the Writing group, specifically designed for their unique profession.
Wasting no time, Miles violently swung the baton down upon Page’s convulsing form. The collision was devastating; the once animated body was promptly crushed under the force. An arm appeared grotesquely twisted, with decomposing tissue scattering in every direction. “Come on, keep moving,” Miles mocked, continuing to mercilessly strike the body.
Whether it was Miles’s relentless battering or some other force, the deceased body thrashed even more vehemently. Bits of flesh were sent flying, and the overwhelming stench of putrefaction threatened to make those nearby wretch.
“Even in death, you’re relentless. I wonder what sort of entity lurks within this lifeless vessel,” Miles remarked, catching his breath a bit but not letting up in his brutal onslaught. The combination of his cruel demeanor and his eerily emotionless expression gave the impression of a monster straight from the underworld.
The scene was horrifying to behold. Miles wasn’t simply unfeeling; he appeared utterly deranged.
Onlookers exchanged anxious looks, many silently expressing gratitude that it wasn’t them who had instigated Miles’s wrath.
Upstairs, in a secluded booth, a young man intently observed the gruesome spectacle unfolding below, his expression growing increasingly troubled. “This new guy, Miles, is both unpredictable and devoid of compassion. He’s barely set foot here, and he’s already sowing discord. He needs to be dealt with.”
“We mustn’t be impulsive. He’s garnered recognition and has some powerful individuals in his corner. Taking any action could have repercussions, even for someone like you,” cautioned an adjacent figure draped in a manner that concealed their identity.
“In that case, we have all the more reason to move. If he amasses more allies, where will that leave us? We need to make a statement using him; otherwise, newcomers will think they can disrupt our establishment’s balance.”
“As it stands, he’s the one setting the tone. We’re the ones on the defensive. To master this situation, we need sheer power. Miles may appear to be erratic, but he’s well-versed with the rules,” the mysterious individual remarked, then posed a question, “Do you realize who poses the greatest threat?”
“Those who refuse to adhere to the established norms are the most unpredictable and menacing. Without the guidelines of rules, there’s no control or boundaries to one’s actions. The distinction between a ghost tamer and an actual ghost isn’t simply in the level of fear they can invoke. It’s about the ghost tamers being tethered by a myriad of unseen obligations and moral codes. While they might command malevolent spirits, their core remains human. However, as for him…”
The enigmatic individual cloaked in shadows momentarily shifted their gaze downwards, observing Miles, who was relentless in his aggression.
“…He exudes an aura closer to that of a ghost. And the scariest part? We’re ignorant about the extent of his powers.”
The young man retorted, “No matter how formidable he might appear, he’s only manipulating a single ghost.”
After exerting himself for some time, Miles paused momentarily to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling heavily.
However, just as he was preparing to continue his assault, Page, who appeared lifeless and had a gravely injured head, suddenly grasped Miles’s ankle. With a weak voice, he pleaded, “Brother, can’t you show some mercy? I might not be a ghost, but aren’t you at least a bit fearful of the supernatural?”
“Wait, you’re still among the living?” Miles sounded genuinely surprised.
“I was on the brink,” Page murmured.
Miles assessed the horrifically mangled form sprawled in front of him, “You possess an incredible will to survive. With your cranium crushed and your physique in this atrocious state, I’d have assumed you were on the cusp of unleashing your inner ghost. The anticipation was thrilling.”
“Now that you’ve yet to pass on, how about we revisit the rules of this world?”
At this point, despair overwhelmed Page. He had inadvertently unleashed the fury of a powerful entity and had also incurred the wrath of this unpredictable man. Miles’s indifference to even question the nature or power of Page’s ghostly mark showed his complete fearlessness. Trying to intimidate Miles was futile.
“Can we… just let the conversation slide?” Page begged.
“If you choose silence, then I’ll take the lead. Let’s delve into my set of rules,” Miles articulated, gripping his baton with a sense of gravitas. “Don’t worry, I’m not inherently evil. I won’t torment you without cause.”