https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-117-Black-and-White-Ghost-Domain-5-/13546757/
Chapter 118: Hirata's World (6)
Chapter 118: Hirata's World (6)
"December 2nd", Watanabe replied.
Feng Bu Jue asked, "The first video occurred on November 24th, correct?"
"Exactly."
"Then when were the second and third videos recorded?" Feng Bu Jue pressed.
Watanabe hesitated, as if recalling details, but Commander Tachibana, more familiar with the case, interjected, "Fukui was shot on November 26th. That afternoon, he dismissed all the housemaids, claiming it was... to meet your wife, Zuo Teng Haruko." He paused slightly, searching for appropriate words. "Frankly, someone like Fukui got what he deserved. But don't think I'll show mercy just because you dragged my subordinates into this."
Watanabe added, "Fukui's body wasn't discovered until noon the next day. The gunshot investigation proceeded meticulously. On that day, Ping Tian Jun went to work as usual, appearing calm, while Zuo Teng Haruko was absent. That night, the third video incident occurred."
Feng Bu Jue deduced, "Then Yamada officer's disappearance must have happened between November 24th—when Hirata left the company—and November 26th morning?"
Commander Tachibana confirmed, "On the 25th night, he left on his bicycle patrol and was never seen again."
"Was the bicycle found?" Feng Bu Jue asked.
"Now you listen", Jitsu interrupted fiercely, "we're asking where you are hiding the body!"
"Not found", Feng Bu Jue mused, "I see..."
"You insolent brat—!" Jitsu crushed his cigarette and lunged forward.
Feng Bu Jue ignored him, continuing, "From what I understand, Japan's public security situation is decent, with a high police-to-population ratio. In big cities, detectives and Swat officers carry sidearms regularly. But in this settlement, limited personnel handle everything from public safety to criminal cases. That's why Yamada became a target." He paused. "Assuming Hirata planned to seize Yamada's sidearm, he had two options—steal it or snatch it. Stealing requires skill, especially stealing a police firearm. Getting caught means prison and exposing his plot to kill Fukui. Hirata's actions are reckless, but only after succeeding with Fukui. Before completing his crime, he couldn't risk failure. Snatching it seems riskier but more reliable. The crime's severity matters less when you're already planning murder."
Stealing requires skill, especially stealing a police firearm. Getting caught means prison and exposing his plot to kill Fukui. Hirata's actions are reckless, but only after succeeding with Fukui. Before completing his crime, he couldn't risk failure. Snatching it seems riskier but more reliable. The crime's severity matters less when you're already planning murder.
If he snatched it, no skill needed—just attack Yamada from behind at night in an isolated spot and take the weapon. But in that case, Yamada wouldn't vanish—he'd just collapse by the road.
Since Yamada actually disappeared, something unexpected happened during the robbery. Perhaps Hirata intended to knock Yamada unconscious but accidentally killed him..."
"Scumbag!" Jitsu finally snapped, seizing Feng Bu Jue's collar. "Confess! Where's Yamada's body!"
Feng Bu Jue remained calm, "I don't know. I'm just deducing from the clues you provided..." Before he could finish, Jitsu's fist slammed into his gut, draining 30% of his vitality and inflicting 【paralysis】.
"Commander Tachibana!" Watanabe intervened, pulling the older man back. "Don't abuse suspects!"
"Suspect? This kid's killed at least two people!" Jitsu roared.
"Enough, Commander Tachibana", Watanabe urged.
Feng Bu Jue swallowed his pride, catching his breath. Immersed in reasoning's thrill, he'd forgotten—he was trapped in a nightmare scenario. Even these two rational Npcs couldn't guarantee safety. Any slip-up meant death. A wrong word or attitude could trigger a fatal Flag. Any Npc here could kill him instantly.
"Ha... ha..." Feng Bu Jue gasped, swallowing hard. "If Hirata killed Yamada during his patrol, the bicycle should have been found."
Jitsu cooled slightly, and Watanabe released him. Both turned toward Feng Bu Jue, waiting.
"If Hirata accidentally killed the officer, he'd react in two ways—take the sidearm and flee immediately, or dispose of the body first. In the latter case, he couldn't move both body and bicycle together. He might hide the bike in a nearby corner and drag the corpse elsewhere..." He paused. "By the way, does Hirata own a car?"
"No", Watanabe answered. "He doesn't even have a driver's license."
"Then we can rule out hitting Yamada with a car and transporting both body and bicycle in the trunk", Feng Bu Jue reasoned, pausing ten seconds. "Three possibilities: First, Hirata dragged Yamada's corpse to hide it, while someone else later found the abandoned bicycle. The finder—a likely homeless person unaware of the crime—might have left the settlement or, upon learning the bike's connection, panicked and destroyed it.
Second, Yamada survived, recognized Hirata, forcing Hirata to take him hostage at gunpoint. Yamada wheeled the bike himself while Hirata controlled him.
Third, after fleeing, someone else disposed of both body and bicycle."
"You mean an accomplice?" Commander Tachibana snapped.
"A rational hypothesis. Suppose a witness knew Hirata and cleaned up the scene afterward, intending future blackmail—forcing Hirata to commit further murders with that gun."
"Enough! You've lied long enough! Where's Yamada?!" Commander Tachibana's patience snapped.
"Wait", Feng Bu Jue persisted. "November 24 afternoon—Hirata's motive formed. 25 night—acquired the handgun from Yamada. 26 afternoon—killed Fukui at the western mansion. Now", he faced Watanabe, "since there were no witnesses, how did you confirm Haruko was in that room when Hirata entered?"
"Based on Ping Tian Jun's account and crime scene analysis", Watanabe explained. "He claimed opening the door revealed Haruko in bed with a demon attacking her, so he shot the demon. When asked where he got the gun, he said he 'couldn't remember.'"
"Haruko didn't die then?"
"Police arrived on the 27th after a report—her corpse was found in Ping Tian Jun's house. Evidence suggested suicide, death time estimated at 27th afternoon. Meanwhile, Hirata was at work as usual."
"So Hirata took Haruko home after murdering Fukui on the 26th. The next day, he went to work normally while his wife committed suicide at home", Feng Bu Jue summarized. "Zuo Teng Haruko wouldn't hang herself for a lover's sake—she never reported the assault. Her suicide likely resulted from trauma or guilt toward her husband."
“This is all stuff we already know. You don’t need to repeat it,” Commander Tachibana impatiently said, crossing his arms.
“What you already know, those three video recordings roughly reconstructed,” Feng Bu Jue replied. “But what you don’t know—the whereabouts of Officer Yamada—is locked inside Hirata Shūichi’s shattered mind.” He shifted his gaze to Doctor Watanabe’s face. “So, Doctor Watanabe wants to help you awaken Hirata’s memory?”
Watanabe asked, “Can you recall anything yet, Mr. F?”
“Sorry,” Feng Bu Jue answered. “What I saw was just those three segments from the video. But unlike your recorded footage, what I witnessed seemed to be Ping Tian Jun’s imagined world filled with yokai.”
Watanabe sighed. “When the human brain suffers severe trauma, memories can become distorted. For example, if someone endured brutal beatings or abuse as a child, the pain might overwhelm their psyche. Their brain could seal away those memories entirely, erasing them like they never happened. In other cases, memories aren’t ‘sealed’—they’re ‘rewritten.’ Like Ping Tian Jun’s situation. Perhaps in his memory, he only recalls witnessing his wife being attacked by a demon, but in reality…”
“I know this already,” Feng Bu Jue interrupted. “I’ve studied this a bit myself.” He shifted uncomfortably against the restraints. “Memory suppression often leads to Dissociative Identity Disorder, while memory alteration manifests as Hallucination Syndrome…”
“Cut the lecture! Where IS Yamada?!” Commander Tachibana loomed over Feng Bu Jue, glaring furiously. He looked ready to punch him again.
Though Feng Bu Jue had no desire to get hit, his entire body was shackled—no room to resist. He didn’t dare activate his Spirit Sense Body Technique; from the setting’s clues and these Npcs’ behavior, if he suddenly displayed supernatural abilities… Watanabe would flee in terror, and Tachibana would draw his gun and shoot. Either way, death.
“To find Yamada, I need to go back…” Feng Bu Jue blurted.
“Back where?” Tachibana narrowed his eyes.
“Back to that black-and-white world. That’s where I can investigate,” Feng Bu Jue said.
Watanabe frowned. “You mean… Ping Tian’s Mental World? By watching the videos again?”
“No… That won’t work anymore.” Feng Bu Jue shook his head. “I already watched the videos. I only saw the normal footage. But when Hirata watched them, I entered his mental world—experiencing his distorted memories. That’s how I ended up here. So… how do I return?” He paused. “And I need to go back to a timepoint before November 25th evening…”
“Fine. Since you’re cooperating, you can speak with the doctor,” Tachibana’s tone shifted unnervingly calm.
“Huh?” Feng Bu Jue blinked. “Aren’t I already talking to—”
Watanabe cut him off. “You’ve recovered the case memories, recognized your psychological state, and identified Yamada as a memory blind spot. We can proceed.”
“What are you even saying?!” Feng Bu Jue sputtered, but his voice died mid-sentence. His perspective suddenly shifted—he was back to that first-person CG-view again, the world transforming around him.
This scenario was driving him mad. First, he thought it was a classic ghost story. Then, a multi-threaded supernatural case. Then he discovered those three events were on a reversed timeline, merely a mentally ill man’s warped memories. Now it had become a real-world murder investigation.
What next?
Zzzt—
The buzz of fluorescent lights snapped him back. A harsh white light flooded his eyes. He squinted, turning his head, and after two seconds adjusted to the glare.
He sat at a table in a striped prison uniform, wrists cuffed to the chair arms, ankles bound by a foot chain. On the table: a desk lamp, scattered paper documents. Across from him, a man in his fifties in a white coat, brow furrowed with deep creases. He scribbled notes beside a mini recorder.
The room had a small barred window high up, moonlight trickling through. A bed occupied one corner, a toilet another. The once-bare walls were now painted in soft, cheerful hues. A small iron-barred window marked the door’s upper half, with a food-slot panel below.
“Alright then… Ping Tian Jun,” the man said, “if you’re ready, let’s begin this session.”
Feng Bu Jue sighed. “Three things first. Please tell me: Who are you? Where am I? And… today’s date?”
The man paused, studying him. “Understood.” He activated the recorder. “March 9, 2005. Patient ID 0098, Hirata Shūichi. Interviewer: Gao Cang Tailang.” He set down the recorder. “Don’t you remember me?”
Feng Bu Jue ignored him, straining to press his cuffed hands against his face. His skin felt normal—no sudden aging by fifteen years. Though he wore prison garb, checking his in-game menu showed no clothing changes. From the Npcs’ perspective, this body was unmistakably Hirata, a middle-aged prisoner.
“You’re… quite perceptive,” Gao Cang said. “Are you Hirata? Watanabe? Tachibana? Or someone else?”
“The answer’s in your question,” Feng Bu Jue replied. “Dissociative Identity Disorder, right?”
“Correct,” Gao Cang sighed, flipping through files. “Since 1991, when you were admitted, several doctors have studied your case. Three identities confirmed: the host, Hirata Shūichi; the psychologist Doctor Watanabe; and the officer Tachibana. Which are you? Or none of them?”
Feng Bu Jue leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “Call me Mr. F. Watanabe represents Hirata’s logic and intellect. Tachibana embodies his guilt and conscience. As for Hirata himself? I don’t know. I’ve yet to meet him.”
“Mr. F… ‘Rationality’? ‘Conscience’?” Gao Cang scoffed. “Fine. Then what do you represent? Your ‘class’…”
Feng Bu Jue grinned. “I’m a mystery novelist from a higher dimension, inhabiting this body. I’m breaking free from a thought-crafted prison—perhaps constructed by the unseen Ping Tian Jun, or something else entirely. I’ve ascended from a chaotic memory labyrinth to a subconscious mental realm, reclaiming clues along the way. Now I’m here.” He leaned forward. “But Doctor Gao Cang, this cell… I wonder—is it real, or another layer of the cage?”
(End of Chapter)
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