Chapter 19

A cheerful, melodious song began to play, echoing through the villa’s grand hall, where moments before one could have heard a pin drop.

Perhaps it was because Asano Ariko’s phone battery was running low, but the voice in the song wavered, the melody warping like the sound from an old, battered radio—enough to send a chill straight down the spine.

Qiao Qiao had seen “Ring” at midnight—both the movie and the original novel. In fact, she knew the Chinese translation of the film’s title was misleading; Sadako and the telephone at midnight weren’t really connected. The scene where Sadako crawls out of the television was original to the film, not the book, yet it had become her signature in popular memory.

The original “Ring” was a science fiction novel. Sadako’s story unfolded in a world conjured by computers, so much so that she resembled a virus or a glitch rather than a vengeful spirit. In the novel, the protagonist had even shared a physical relationship with Sadako, resulting in the birth of a daughter. So, the adult-themed works about Sadako that later appeared weren’t without precedent.

With this in mind, didn’t it seem a little less frightening? In China, there’s an old saying: Humanity’s oldest and strongest fear is the fear of the unknown. Once something is understood, it loses its terror. Exorcists, for example, after learning about ghosts and spirits, no longer flinch at their presence. There is nothing left to fear.

Thinking along these lines, Qiao Qiao turned her gaze toward Asano Ariko. Ariko’s eyelids twitched. Even if she wasn’t particularly afraid of ghosts, the sudden ringtone still startled her—not because of anything supernatural, but rather out of embarrassment for letting Qiao Qiao hear her phone’s ringtone.

She glanced at the caller ID and answered.

"...Yes, yes, I know. If anything happens, I’ll call you immediately. Don’t worry so much, Dad. Besides, Qiao-san is here—yes, that’s right, the exorcist I told you about last time..."

It seemed to be her father. Qiao Qiao wondered if it was just her imagination, but Ariko sounded noticeably more relaxed talking to her father, none of the tension she displayed while interacting with Qiao Qiao. It made sense; although they’d shared a bowl of ramen, they were still, in the end, only colleagues. Even though they had each other’s Line contact, they hadn’t exchanged any messages outside of work in the past week. It wasn’t like the novels, where an intrigued girl would reach out for no reason, or inexplicably throw herself at someone.

She treated herself and her family differently, and that was perfectly normal.

Three minutes later, Ariko hung up. “My father worries too much. I hope you don’t mind, Qiao-san,” she said, slipping effortlessly back into her refined, well-bred manner. The speed of her transformation caught Qiao Qiao by surprise.

Women, he mused, were unfathomable.

Still, Asano Ariko was a fifteen-year-old junior high student, and he was a seventeen-year-old high schooler. The two of them, alone in a deserted villa at midnight—what father wouldn’t be concerned? Qiao Qiao could understand the feeling. Rest assured, sir, I’ll protect your daughter.

Half an hour passed. Nothing happened.

Perhaps the previous exorcist had simply looked around, found no vengeful spirits, and decided the villa wasn’t haunted after all. Some places, heavy with yin energy and the memory of death, looked terrifying yet harbored no spirits. Others, grand and brilliantly lit, concealed the most fearsome ghosts.

Ariko’s phone was already charging for the second time. She seemed a little bored, stifling a yawn as she stretched her arms. Despite her young age, she was no novice shrine maiden.

Qiao Qiao didn’t notice. His mind was elsewhere. There was something off about the whole affair, like a single errant stitch in a sweater that made the whole thing uncomfortable to look at.

Just then, his phone rang.

Qiao Qiao’s ringtone was the default system music—nothing special. He glanced at the caller ID: an unknown number.

“Who is it?” Ariko perked up immediately, craning her neck to peer at Qiao Qiao’s screen, a slight frown on her face.

“Hello?” Qiao Qiao answered, but there was only silence. He listened for a while, checked the screen again. The call was still connected.

“Is something wrong?” Ariko asked, curious.

“It’s strange. Maybe the signal’s bad,” Qiao Qiao said, tilting his head.

“Can I listen?” Ariko suggested, taking the phone and pressing it to her ear.

After a burst of static, a voice came through.

“Die die die die die die die die—”

A shrill, female voice, like a curse from the depths of hell, nearly ruptured Ariko’s eardrums in an instant.

“Ah!” She frantically threw the phone.

Qiao Qiao’s phone.

“...I didn’t mean to,” Ariko hurried to explain, then caught herself.

“Wait—could that have been a call from a vengeful spirit?”

The phone, lying on the floor, somehow switched to speaker mode. That piercing, grating voice blasted from the speaker:

“Die die die die die die die die—”

And at almost the same instant, every light in the villa went out.

Bang bang bang—

All the windows flew open and slammed shut, filling the house with terrifying noise.

A faint crackling filled the air—Ariko could hear electricity surging.

In the living room, the massive seventy-seven-inch television flickered to life, casting a dim light in the pitch-black hall.

At first, only static appeared, but gradually, the image became clearer: a long-haired woman in a tattered white dress was crawling slowly out of a well. Her face was obscured, her movements reptilian, inching ever closer to the edge of the screen.

The next moment, her head emerged directly from the television!

A mid-level vengeful spirit.

Qiao Qiao took one look and made a swift judgment. By instinct, he drew his gun and pulled the trigger.

Bang—

The bullet exploded from the revolver, striking the spirit just as she was hauling her upper body out. Her torso vanished instantly, dissolving into a scattering of glowing fragments—along with the seventy-seven-inch television.

Ariko stared in utter disbelief. The spirit’s resentment had been intense. In that frozen moment, she realized it had even awakened her own spiritual sight. In her eyes, the woman was wrapped in an inky blackness, darker than night, tendrils of it spreading in all directions. Ariko estimated that it would have taken her considerable effort to deal with such a spirit.

But Qiao Qiao—

The spirit appeared. He shot it dead in an instant. There was nothing more to say.

Wait.

A gun? Why did Qiao-san have a gun? When had he brought it with him? How could a bullet strike a ghost? Was there something she was missing?

Ariko’s mind was a whirl of questions. One thought echoed above all the rest:

“Stop—this isn’t how exorcisms are supposed to work!”