Chapter 7
964words
Ice-cold to the touch, just like before.
Owen's heart sank. Another soul trapped by obsession.
He snatched up the envelope and tore it open.
Same coarse yellowish-brown paper, with dark red letters written in blood:
Last Wish List - Client Number: 077
Find my Teddy Bear. It's in 'the room that doesn't speak.'
Place it 'by mother's bedside.'
After completing all this, please turn off the light in the room.
The handwriting was crooked and unsteady—childish, stubborn, naive.
A child? 'The silent room'? 'Mother's bedside'? Owen frowned.
This task seemed simpler than the last, but 'the silent room' sent chills down his spine.
Rule Two had emphasized that only those with Black Envelopes were his clients—he shouldn't intrude elsewhere.
He scanned the intern room, his eyes landing on the right wall. Where before there was nothing, now stood a small metal locker with a card reader. An employee locker? He tapped his badge against the scanner.
'Beep.' The locker popped open. Just a small compartment inside. The 'faded photograph' from earlier lay within. He placed it back and closed the door. So this was where rewards appeared. Time was running out. He needed to find that 'silent room'—fast.
He slipped out of the intern room and back into the corridor.
With his enhanced Spirit Perception, the air felt thicker, the light dimmer—as if countless invisible things squirmed in the shadows. He treaded lightly, listening intently.
Rule Four: [PROHIBITED FROM COMMUNICATING WITH CLIENTS].
Client 077 was a child, but he had to maintain 'professional distance.'
The hallway stood dead silent. No crying. No footsteps.
'The room that doesn't speak'… No sound inside? Or no speaking allowed? He tried doorknobs as he passed. Most were locked. The few that opened revealed empty rooms or funeral supplies—brooms, buckets, cleaning agents. No teddy bear.
Time ticked away. 3:50 now. Anxiety gnawed at Owen. Upstairs maybe? He dashed to the second floor. Room numbers here were just as unclear. He tried a doorknob.
'Click.' The door swung open. A heavy mix of dust and something like… sweet milk rushed out. Darkness within.
In the faint hallway light, Owen made out a child's room: small bed, scattered blocks, faded cartoon stickers. A little boy—five or six years old—sat on the floor, back to the door, clutching a worn teddy bear missing one eye.
Client 077? Owen held his breath and crept forward. The boy seemed oblivious, head down, stroking the teddy bear with gentle, focused movements.
The room was unnaturally quiet—only the boy's soft breathing broke the silence.
'The silent room'… because the child doesn't speak? Owen's eyes fixed on the teddy bear.
The task: find the bear, place it 'by mother's bedside.' Was this the target? He inched closer, silent as a shadow. Just steps away—the boy's stroking suddenly stopped!
The boy turned his head. Slowly. Stiffly.
Owen's heart froze!
The boy had no eyes! Just two bottomless, pitch-black holes where eyes should be! His bloodless lips pressed tight. Cold rejection and fear radiated from him like physical waves!
Rule Four: [EMOTIONAL EXCHANGES PROHIBITED]!
Owen choked down his terror, eyes locked on the teddy bear. He needed to 'find' it and 'place it beside mother's bed.' But clearly, the boy wouldn't surrender it easily.
Where was 'mother's bed'? The small one in this room? Owen couldn't be sure.
He raised his hand slowly, pointing at the teddy bear, then at the small bed. No words. Just gestures.
Those hollow sockets 'watched' him. The boy's arms tightened around the bear. The wave of rejection intensified. Communication failed.
Owen panicked. Time running out! 3:55! He remembered task 044—how he'd demanded the ring from the crying woman.
He'd broken the 'no communication' rule then, but… it worked? The Night Patroller hadn't 'cleaned' him. Maybe the rules weren't absolute? Or perhaps limited communication was allowed in certain situations?
He'd risk it!
He pointed again at the bear and bed, then whispered as emotionlessly as possible: 'Give me. Put it there.' His voice cut through the silence like a knife.
The boy's body convulsed! He clutched the bear to his chest, curling into a ball of silent resistance! Failed!
Owen's heart plummeted. What now? Take it by force?
Rule Five: [Only tools provided by the funeral home may be used].
He was unarmed. Just as despair set in, his peripheral vision caught an inconspicuous toy box in the corner. Something poked out—a fluffy, brown teddy bear ear! Wait! The boy's bear was gray! And missing an eye!
The task mentioned 'my teddy bear.' Was the gray one really what Client 077 wanted? The client was deceased! This boy… a 'Residual Entity'? Or Client 077 himself? But if his dying wish was finding his bear, why hold another? It made no sense!
Insight struck like lightning! Owen ignored the eerie boy and darted toward the toy box.
He crouched and dug through the box. Blocks, cars, broken soldiers… At the bottom—something fuzzy! He yanked hard! Out came a brown, intact teddy bear with two black glass-bead eyes, looking adorably silly.
The moment he pulled out the brown bear—'Wooo—!' A piercing, soundless shriek erupted behind him!
Owen spun around, horror-struck.
The boy's body twisted and expanded violently! Black, viscous liquid oozed from those hollow sockets!
The gray teddy bear came alive—its thread-sewn mouth splitting into a ferocious grin! Malice and cold swept the room like a tidal wave! The temperature plunged!
'Shit!' Owen's scalp crawled with terror! What had he unleashed?!
He snatched the brown bear and lunged for the bed! 'Bang!' The door slammed shut by itself! Darkness swallowed the room! Only a sickly green glow from the boy's body revealed his twisted, distorted silhouette and that grinning gray bear! 'Hiss… hiss…' Snake-like sounds slithered from every direction!
Owen was trapped!
