Dressed all in black, Lu Zizhen stood beneath a flickering streetlight, hood pulled low. She took out a cigarette, hesitated, then slipped it back into her pocket.
Ever since meeting Dòu Táng half a year ago, she'd thought she might've quit. But learning how many secrets he still kept from her had proven otherwise.
Still—she wouldn't smoke in front of him.
From down the street came a steady rhythm of footsteps.
Someone approached—tall, broad-shouldered, masked. His gait carried a quiet power, and even from ten meters away, the air around him shifted.
Invisible pressure rippled outward. Under her hood, Lu Zizhen licked her lips.
At night, Kiryu Dòu Táng was a beacon in the dark.
Every time he absorbed a spirit, that quiet menace deepened, growing more refined, more complete—until he truly lived up to the teasing title she'd once given him: Hell's Walking Man.
And yet he moved through the world utterly unaware of it—calm, detached, unmoved by praise or fear alike.
The gazes of the living meant nothing to him. But what about the dead?
Did even their hatred mean nothing?
Where did that indifference come from?
Could it all be rooted in that mysterious "Crown Game"? The thought only made her more curious.
Lu Zizhen raised a hand in greeting. "Yo."
"Good evening," Dòu Táng replied evenly as he approached. Tonight, Lu Zizhen wore her full exorcist gear—sleek, functional, and sharp-edged.
Even Dòu Táng, who had little eye for fashion, found himself saying, "You look… really cool in that outfit."
"Ha! Naturally."
She twirled once, coat hem fluttering—a gesture that should have looked childish but somehow came off effortlessly dashing.
They left the gate behind, circling to a quiet corner beside the wall. Facing the tall barrier, they began exchanging information.
"We'll need to climb tonight," Lu Zizhen said. "The guards don't know us. So—tell me again what happened earlier?"
Dòu Táng nodded. "I found a buried skull on the rooftop. Didn't touch it. But at noon, when I was up there with Kume Chinatsu, its resentment flared. Kume saw something—got terrified."
Concise as ever.
Lu Zizhen tilted her head, scanning the wall. "For that wraith to appear even with you around… that's bold."
Then again—it was the fifteenth of the seventh lunar month. The Zhongyuan Festival.
The Ghost Festival.
Japan's calendar didn't align perfectly with Huaxia's, but the whole seventh month still overflowed with yin energy.
It was one of the few times when ghosts didn't care about borders.
Last year's Ghost Festival had been when Dòu Táng first arrived in this world. Now, exactly a year later, the Crown Game's purpose was beginning to show. Coincidence—or fate?
"Am I really that scary?" Dòu Táng asked mildly. "Why would a wraith be afraid of me?" Lu Zizhen was speechless.
Did this man seriously have no self-awareness?
"…Forget it," she muttered, rubbing her temple. "Transform. Toss me over the wall." "Got it."
With a low hum, pink light flared around him, darkening into shadow.
Moments later, a black Candy Man stood where Dòu Táng had been—his head now covered by a wolf mask, his round body jet black except for a fluffy ring of pink fur around the face.
He flexed.
It was ridiculous. And somehow… cute.
"Mm, gotta say," Lu Zizhen grinned, "this look's a huge improvement. The all-pink version was dumb."
Dòu Táng extended a massive hand. His palm was broad enough for her to stand on. Without hesitation, Lu Zizhen climbed aboard.
He lifted her easily until her head rose above the wall.
She grabbed the edge, vaulted gracefully, and landed on the other side.
The private Yiyan Academy wasn't strict on security—no barbed wire, no cameras. There wasn't much to steal, and the neighborhood was safe.
Perfect conditions for a pair of supernatural trespassers. Dòu Táng crouched, legs tensing like springs.
"Wuhu!"
He launched upward, clearing the wall in a perfect arc.
The two-meter-tall Candy Man landed softly in the courtyard. But when he looked around—Lu Zizhen was gone.
The field was empty. Silent. Not a soul in sight.
Weird. Where'd she go? Impatient as always?
After six months of partnership, he trusted her completely. The thought that something might be wrong didn't even cross his mind.
He stepped into the shadows, dispelled his transformation, and pulled out his phone. He dialed.
Call rejected. "…What the hell?" Something was off.
He looked up again. The air felt… different.
Extending his senses, he saw it.
Normally, the school was covered by faint traces of old resentment—remnants from bones buried long ago. Weak. Harmless.
But now—
Now the entire campus pulsed with invisible pressure.
Dark energy flowed through every hallway, swirling endlessly like a storm.
This place is crawling with ghosts.
Not that he was afraid.
If anything—aside from concern for Lu Zizhen—he felt… excited.
His heartbeat quickened.
He started toward the main building.
Meanwhile
Why hasn't he shown up yet?
Lu Zizhen stood at the base of the wall, arms folded. She'd been waiting for several minutes. No Dòu Táng.
Frowning, she reached into her coat and pulled out a talisman.
The moment it touched the air, it burst into flame—no spark, no lighter—gone in seconds.
A wraith-detection charm.
Her eyes widened, then sparkled with amusement.
"So that's what this is," she murmured. "A ghost maze, huh? And not an illusion either." Her lips curved.
"So that's it—you showed yourself in daylight just to bait us here. Still angry about someone disturbing your precious bones, huh?"
She looked up.
Under the cold moonlight, a white figure stood atop the school building—silent, eerie, as if it could vanish at any moment.
They'd been separated—each trapped in their own version of the campus. But the ghost didn't realize the mistake it had made.
It had provoked the wrong people.
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