Chapter 99: Creating Until Death (Bonus Chapter for Recommended Votes)

In the accounts of many creators, when their characters come alive and begin to enact their own stories, this is considered an outstanding creative state. But for Takuji En Hall, whenever his characters come alive, they end up spinning tales filled with explicit content—nothing pure or romantic—and the stories go completely against his intentions.

Takuji En Hall is a manga artist with aspirations. Rather than making easy money by drawing vulgar, extreme themes, he desires to create thought-provoking, realistic adult manga.

After gaining a general understanding of Takuji En Hall’s situation, Qiao Qiao couldn’t quite grasp what exactly constituted a thought-provoking, realistic adult manga, but he was fairly certain that some vengeful spirit was at work.

“Mr. En Hall, do you have surveillance installed in your room?” Qiao Qiao glanced at the top of the fridge, where a trendy webcam sat.

These cameras can connect to smartphone apps; once online, you can view the recordings on your phone. Of course, there have been incidents where leaks resulted in the spread of unsavory videos, but Qiao Qiao wasn’t familiar with the specifics.

“Yes, that’s right. After my original manuscripts were tampered with, I bought the camera, hoping to catch whoever was meddling with my work at night. Unfortunately, it never captured anything.” Takuji En Hall sighed.

“Do you still have the recordings from that time?” Qiao Qiao asked again.

“Yes, yes, I saved them on my computer.” Takuji En Hall immediately stood up, opened his laptop, and pulled up the surveillance footage.

“This is the recording from when I was working on ‘Foolish—Editor Niikawa-san.’ I intended it to be a pure romance between childhood friends, one an editor, the other an author, but the next day the content had somehow turned into an explicit, problematic theme.” He explained as he started the playback.

Qiao Qiao leaned in. The refrigerator door faced the desk, so the footage covered the computer desk area.

The timestamp in the lower left showed one o’clock in the morning; by then, Takuji En Hall was already asleep. The footage was dull, almost entirely static—if not for the occasional swaying of the curtains or the ticking of the clock, one might mistake it for a still image.

But Qiao Qiao watched intently.

Fifteen minutes sped by at quadruple speed, and the scene remained empty.

“It’s always like this—nothing happens all night, and I’m really troubled by it.” Takuji En Hall scratched the back of his head.

“Hmm.” Qiao Qiao, however, was meticulous in his observation.

Soon, at four in the morning, the footage changed.

More precisely, the footage changed when viewed through spiritual sight.

A shadow rose slowly from the keyboard. It hovered around the drawing tablet, gradually forming the shape of a person sitting at the computer, sketching. Though the computer wasn’t turned on, Qiao Qiao could see files and documents inside it shifting.

This process lasted more than an hour. As dawn crept in and the sun began to rise, the figure finally vanished.

Takuji En Hall, of course, saw none of this.

“The computer has been haunted by a vengeful spirit?” Takuji En Hall, after listening to Qiao Qiao’s explanation, found it hard to believe. “But this computer is brand new—how could it be haunted?”

Previously, Takuji En Hall used a laptop he’d bought in college for his work. After he started earning money, he upgraded to his current setup. It wasn’t secondhand, nor did it have any unusual parts; how could a vengeful spirit have taken residence?

“Have you had anyone you know pass away recently?” Qiao Qiao asked, prompting him further. “Like a fellow manga artist, or a classmate from art school?”

“Passed away…” Takuji En Hall fell into thought.

A few minutes later, realization struck him.

“Come to think of it, it wasn’t someone I knew well, but during the year-end party, I chatted briefly with a manga artist. I only learned in March this year that he had passed away.”

Takuji En Hall found a group photo from the party and pointed to a man standing in the corner.

The man had heavy dark circles under his eyes, looking thin and exhausted, as if he hadn’t rested well.

“Who is this?”

The vengeful spirit haunting Takuji En Hall’s computer bore little resemblance to its original form, but Qiao Qiao could still recognize that it seemed to be this man.

“This is Professor Sadanao Ooba. Occasionally, he published serials in ‘Quick—Day,’ but mostly he charged for access on his personal website.”

Takuji En Hall opened a search engine, and after some effort, found Sadanao Ooba’s personal site.

The site didn’t attract much traffic—barely over a thousand views at most, and even fewer paid access. It would be a stretch to say he made a living from it; it was more like it just hung out there for show.

“Professor Ooba’s debut was well received, but it seems he never gained much popularity afterward. I heard he died from overwork.”

Takuji En Hall casually clicked through a few free comics.

They were almost all extremely explicit.

“Wow, would it be inappropriate for the master to see this?” After all, Qiao Qiao was still underage.

Takuji En Hall was about to close the page, but Qiao Qiao stopped him.

“Let me take a look.”

He browsed the comics seriously.

Truth be told, two men sitting together reading extreme adult comics was quite awkward.

Yet Takuji En Hall noticed that Qiao Qiao was utterly focused, as if the content weren’t blush-inducing at all, but rather academic treatises or great works.

After reading several comics, Takuji En Hall felt weak in the knees.

Qiao Qiao, however, remained composed. After thinking for a moment, he said, “Indeed, look here.”

Qiao Qiao pointed to a page in one comic, where two characters assumed a highly difficult position.

“This pose, the angle of the panel, and the dialogue are strikingly similar to page sixteen of your ‘Foolish—Editor Niikawa-san.’”

“And here—” He pointed to another comic by Ooba, where a fixed camera angle captured three consecutive shots. The two protagonists posed differently in each, matching the passage of time, creating an intensely decadent scene.

“This triptych paneling is identical in concept to a page in ‘Vile—Editor Yamada-san.’”

Qiao Qiao highlighted several more panels, the way bodies were depicted, the use of perspective—finding that Ooba and Takuji En Hall’s manga indeed shared many similarities.

If there were no supernatural elements involved, Qiao Qiao might have begun to suspect Takuji En Hall of plagiarizing Ooba, tormenting him until his untimely death.

“Wait a moment, master—are you saying that after Professor Ooba died, he became a vengeful spirit, possessed my computer, and comes out every night to alter my drafts?” Takuji En Hall felt his worldview crumbling.