Dimensional Hotel

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It had to be admitted, there was always a gap between people doing the same work, and this difference was even more obvious among spirit realm detectives. Some of them needed two tries just to catch a glimpse of a lurking monstrosity, their ribs aching at the very thought of what it would cost them. Yet others, like the legendary investigators in old tales, could fling open the door to the Otherworld without a second thought and thrash any lurking creature inside as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Little Red Riding Hood quickly adjusted her outlook. There was no point comparing herself to the “hotel trio” standing before her. After all, according to the Special Affairs Bureau’s assessments—and her own thoughts—none of these three members of the “hotel” quite added up to a full, ordinary person. In fact, one of them might even be considered a high-risk entity. Who would want to measure their own ability to handle the Otherworld against something like that?

Yu Sheng, meanwhile, had no idea what the girl in the red cloak was thinking as she fell silent. He simply circled around the eerie and frightening “sacrifice,” searching for more clues. With curiosity in his voice, he asked, “So, if someone did all this, just how twisted must they be? I mean, sneaking in to steal something is one thing—we’re basically doing that ourselves—but going as far as this? What could be the point?”

“Some sort of sinister ritual,” said Little Red Riding Hood, shaking her head. “The sacrifice was probably their true goal. Taking the ‘Weeper’ statue might have been just an extra. People who do this sort of thing are usually cultists or extremists, hoping to gain powers, visions, blessings, or at least the ‘attention’ of some awful Otherworldly presence. Judging by the strength of the psychic corruption radiating from this ‘sacrifice,’ whoever performed the ritual was definitely an expert.”

“People like that actually exist?” Yu Sheng’s eyes widened, truly startled. “There are folks who ‘follow’ something as dreadful as the Otherworld?”

“They don’t follow the Otherworld itself. They follow power or something higher-dimensional. The Otherworld just happens to be the easiest way for them to reach the extraordinary. And yes, there are plenty of them.” Little Red Riding Hood sighed, revealing hidden truths about the world to Yu Sheng, who knew nothing of such matters. “The Sacred Hermit Society, the Dark Spot Group, the Angel Cultists, and those gatherings of former humans who now wander the Otherworld—any of them might do such a thing.”

She paused, her expression growing complicated. “The Otherworld… It harms many people. It doesn’t only exist here in the Borderland; it stretches beyond. We can save some, but so many remain beyond rescue, slipping into the ‘other side’ where they can never return.

“Those who don’t die but aren’t saved either lose their minds, get taken in by the groups I mentioned, or turn into something no longer human. The influence of the Otherworld on a human mind is enormous. People are tempted by power, fooled by illusions, or controlled by false memories. It happens often, actually.

“If you think about it, it makes sense. With all the odd creatures and lurking dangers in the Otherworld, not everyone stays true to themselves. Some people are bound to wander down the wrong path, but…”

“But?” Yu Sheng asked, listening closely. He had been absorbing all this new information, so when Little Red Riding Hood stopped, he prodded her to continue.

“But this kind of ‘illegal entry’ isn’t normal in the Borderland.” Her tone turned serious. “The entire Borderland is under the watch of the ‘node network.’ How could an intruder slip into the museum without anyone noticing?”

“That’s the Special Affairs Bureau’s problem, right?” Yu Sheng said, shaking his head. “They set up those nodes, after all. If there’s a real breach, then it’s a big deal.” As he spoke, he moved toward the victim sacrificed on the platform.

When Little Red Riding Hood saw this, she called out, “What are you doing?!”

“Getting him down,” Yu Sheng answered, as if it were obvious. “The man’s already dead; he shouldn’t be left like this. I’ve seen it, so I can’t just ignore it.”

“Be careful of curses! It’s best to leave this to the Special Affairs Bureau’s deep divers…” Little Red Riding Hood began, then trailed off.

Even fully armed, a deep diver might not have as much resistance as this man in front of her.

“Do we need to preserve the scene?” Yu Sheng turned to ask Little Red Riding Hood.

“…Yes,” she answered after a moment of thought, nodding. “We’d better not touch it. Let the professionals handle it.”

“Oh.” Hearing her reasoning, Yu Sheng sighed, disappointed. He had already reached the platform and found where the iron thorns opened, ready to pull them down. But now, since they needed to keep the scene intact, he let go. After hesitating for a moment, he looked at the victim kneeling on the platform and inclined his head. “Sorry, mate. I’m not a professional. We’ll report this as soon as we leave. You’ll have to bear with it for a bit longer.”

Little Red Riding Hood eyed Yu Sheng with a strange look. He noticed and turned to face her. “What’s wrong?”

Little Red Riding Hood almost said that she hadn’t expected him to be so humane. Instead, she said, “…I didn’t expect you to be so considerate. In the Otherworld, we see so many victims that people usually just make a mental note and report it later. Rarely does anyone care this much, or even bother talking to the dead.”

Foxy, one of their companions, frowned slightly at this. “Isn’t that a bit heartless?”

Little Red Riding Hood sighed. “It’s complicated. Corpses in the Otherworld often become threats themselves. It’s not uncommon for victims to end up as perpetrators too.”

Yu Sheng waved his hand. “Can’t help it; I’m a rookie. I don’t understand any of this yet.”

As he spoke, his fingertip accidentally grazed the edge of the platform and touched some nearly dried blood.

Suddenly, silence fell.

Everything happened in an instant. Before Yu Sheng could react, he saw Little Red Riding Hood, Irene, and Foxy freeze in place. The world around him seemed to fade into bleak shades of black and white, as though a layer of dullness had settled over everything. In this eerie hush, Yu Sheng stood there, stunned, for a few seconds—until he heard a soft creaking sound behind him.

It was the sound of stiff joints bending.

In this unsettling quiet, it sounded as sharp as a scream.

Slowly, Yu Sheng turned his head.

The corpse, the one bound by those iron thorns, was turning its head as well.

Yu Sheng’s eyes widened. The corpse’s face, streaked with blood, met his gaze.

“Wha—” Yu Sheng barely began to speak before the corpse opened its mouth.

“The one who killed me…” the corpse rasped in a hoarse voice, “The one who killed me was… was…”

Yu Sheng, completely bewildered, almost yelled at it. “Just say it already! Don’t worry about grammar!”

The corpse took a strained, rattling breath.

“The one who killed me was an Angel Cultist, two males. One about five foot seven, fat, black hair, glasses, in his thirties, with a mole on his forehead. The other about six foot, skinny, bald, sharp nose, in his forties, wearing a silver watch on his left hand. They kept saying, ‘You will help him descend,’ and ‘Deliver the savior from suffering’ while they did it. They had a heavy accent from the Five Pine River area in the South District. The Weeper statue wasn’t taken. They just tossed it in the hallway. They didn’t want it; the ritual was all they cared about—it hurt so much…”

The corpse spoke so quickly, it seemed on the verge of biting its own tongue. Then, all at once, it relaxed, tilting its head back slightly and gazing dreamily at the ceiling. “Ah… eternal peace is finally here…”

Slowly, it lowered its head, returning to that “weeping” pose, covering its face, and became silent again.

Yu Sheng could only stand there, speechless.

The corpse had spoken so fast that Yu Sheng was still struggling to process it. After a few stunned seconds, he shouted, “Wait! Could you say that again?!”

There was no answer. Instead, the hall’s eerie grayscale vanished all at once. Irene, Foxy, and Little Red Riding Hood, who had been frozen, suddenly moved again as if nothing strange had happened.

Irene was the first to notice Yu Sheng’s odd behavior. She looked at him curiously. “Hey? What’s wrong? Why do you look so serious all of a sudden?”

Yu Sheng took a deep breath and turned to Little Red Riding Hood. He repeated everything he’d just heard:

“The killers were Angel Cultists—two men. One about five-seven, fat, black hair, glasses, around thirty-something, mole on his forehead. The other six feet, skinny, bald, sharp nose, in his forties, with a watch on his left hand. They kept talking about ‘helping him descend’ and ‘delivering the savior from suffering.’ They had a strong accent from Five Pine River in the South District. They tossed the Weeper statue across the hallway. I guess they didn’t care much about it after all.”

Little Red Riding Hood just stared, completely at a loss. “…Huh?”