Chapter 8: The Soul Returns

  March 1st, 2170

  The Inter-Capital City lay shrouded in the pale gray mist of an early spring morning, where fog draped like a funeral shroud over each cold and empty street. A month had passed since that fateful day—when twenty students of Inter-District High School No. 4 suddenly began screaming in terror after a brief period without adult supervision, then collapsed into a state of irreversible psychological breakdown.

  No explanation.No witnesses.No physical evidence.

  It was as if a collective nightmare had torn through the school, leaving behind only a chilling echo that lingered in hospital corridors and media reports for weeks on end.

  The Capital Security Special Police launched five separate investigations. The nation’s leading experts in psychiatry, psychology, and even occult researchers from the Department of Metaphysical Studies were summoned. They combed through every second of camera footage, interviewed every individual present in the area that day. But aside from vague suspicions directed toward a notoriously reclusive family in the Western District, the only official conclusion was:“Nothing abnormal.”

  And yet, no one—none of the investigators or specialists—could explain why twenty children had simultaneously suffered such catastrophic psychological trauma, as though their souls had been torn from reality itself.

  Then, on the morning of March 1st, at the Inter Capital Central Hospital, on the 10th floor—the top floor—where the twenty children were isolated in a special treatment ward, medical staff discovered a strange letter neatly placed on the head nurse’s desk. No one knew who had left it. The security cameras, recently serviced just a week prior, had inexplicably malfunctioned during the night and recorded nothing unusual.

  The letter bore no seal, just a single sheet of white paper with a line scrawled in dark red ink:

  "Tonight, the souls return. Are you happy?"

  The moment the head nurse read those words aloud in front of the attending doctors and security personnel, something horrifying happened.

  From within the isolation rooms, the twenty children—motionless and unresponsive for an entire month—suddenly let out a collective, earsplitting scream. But it wasn't a human scream. It was a shriek like a hundred voices all speaking through a single throat.

  One nurse fainted on the spot.An elderly doctor trembled so violently he could no longer stand.

  The incident was reported immediately.

  Within ten minutes, the inner-city security system escalated its alert level to Tier 3—a critical status reserved only for incidents involving unidentified supernatural threats. Special police units and representatives of the United Capital Security Council were summoned to an emergency meeting in the Central Operations Chamber, located in the deepest level of the Polycore Tower.

  On the large screen in the middle of the underground meeting room, blood-red letters from the letter blazed vividly under the cold backlight:

  “Tonight, the spirit returns. Are you happy?”

  Though it was just a short sentence, the entire room seemed to be engulfed by an invisible wave of icy chill. No one spoke for several seconds. Each person was either deep in thought or struggling to find words to explain what was appearing right before their eyes—a clear sign of the presence of something beyond normal understanding.

  Major General Martin, with a weathered face and the stern demeanor typical of a seasoned officer, tapped a steady rhythm on the cold steel table. His voice was hoarse but carried the weight of command, cutting through the dead silence:

  “Does anyone know... who they are?”

  The question burst an invisible dam. Instantly, the previously quiet meeting room erupted into a storm of loud, heated arguments.

  Captain Hung, commander of the Capital Investigation Unit, slammed the documents down on the table:

  “I said from the beginning—this isn’t the work of humans! How could anyone destroy every single camera from the hallway to the room—cameras that were just serviced a week ago—without making a single sound?”

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  Lieutenant Colonel Jenna from the Cybercrime Unit immediately countered:

  “Come on, what era do you think we’re living in? Devices to disable electronics are all over the black market. I already had the entire hospital security system checked—cameras, thermal sensors, employee RFID chips—everything shows signs of being breached, we just can’t pinpoint who. If someone left that letter, it means they bypassed almost the entire internal AI security system. I suspect this was an extremely sophisticated attack by a powerful organization!”

  Major Ricardo from the Psychological Analysis Division suddenly cut in loudly, eyes blazing with frustration:

  “You’re missing the point! The issue isn’t how the letter appeared—it’s WHY it caused all twenty children to let out that same terrifying scream. They didn’t react like humans—they were like living loudspeakers being controlled remotely! That’s a highly traumatic reaction, and in my opinion, it could only happen if they witnessed something so horrifying that it scarred them for life on that very day!”

  Captain Hung snapped his fingers, clearly in agreement:

  “Exactly. Only a large, professional organization could pull something like this off.”

  Lieutenant Colonel Jenna shook her head:

  “I need data. And don’t forget—whoever got in bypassed almost the entire security system. No fake IDs, no DNA traces—just an audio recording of footsteps in the hallway and a thermal sensor picking up an entity moving—not running, walking—calmly. But its shape and speed matched that of a human. To me, this was done by a clandestine group.”

  Second Lieutenant Kai, a representative from the National Defense Risk Analysis Bureau, who had been silent until now, suddenly spoke up, his voice cautious but firm:

  "If I may, I’d like to propose a hypothesis... I believe that technologies capable of such powerful electronic disruption are typically under the control of the Ministry of Defense. Based on everything that’s been said, is it possible that... something may have been leaked?"

  The room fell silent for several seconds. All eyes turned to Kai. Major General Martin frowned:

  "Are you suggesting—from the inside?"

  Kai swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the blood-red text on the screen:

  "I believe... this organization is more powerful than we think."

  A silent chill rippled across the conference table.

  Major General Martin suddenly stood up, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and unease:

  "Ladies and gentlemen… we are facing an unprecedented crisis. Don’t tell me that after hundreds of hours of analysis, five independent investigations, and millions in expenses, the only conclusion we’ve reached is: ‘Unknown’? Who will take responsibility if tonight… something truly returns?"

  No one answered. In the room flooded with sterile white light and the hum of unseen machines, the only sounds were the soft clicks of pens on paper—and the suspicious, searching glances exchanged by those entrusted with the city’s highest security.

  And on the screen, the crimson letters still burned—brilliant and alive, as if pulsing with their own will:

  "Tonight, the spirit returns. Are you happy?"

  On the massive display screen, the sentence from the mysterious letter was projected in magnified detail.

  The atmosphere in the briefing room grew suffocating. Police Major General Martin—stared at the line as if deciphering an ancient curse. He tapped his fingers lightly on the table and addressed the officers in charge of each investigative division.

  “Does anyone know… who they are?”

  No one answered. But every eye turned toward Dr. Kurokawa—a specialist in paranormal phenomena who had once been expelled from the Academy of Sciences of the Union for conducting research that was deemed “beyond the limits of conventional science.”

  The doctor merely gave a faint smile, his voice soft as drifting smoke:

  “Shouldn’t we be asking… which soul is returning tonight?”

  The meeting was immediately elevated to top-secret clearance.The clock read 08:31 AM.Less than sixteen hours until nightfall.

  And for the first time in many years, the highest authorities in the United Capital’s Department of Psychological Security felt fear.

  The bright morning sunlight bathed every rooftop, every lush green treetop lining the streets. In front of the central hospital gates, Victor stood still, his face marked by deep contemplation. He looked up at the sky, where slow-moving white clouds drifted in, one by one obscuring the blazing sun. The once radiant golden light gradually gave way to a dull gray, and the air grew heavy, foreboding.

  The city’s weather forecast had predicted the change, yet it still felt like an omen—like something ill-fated was drawing near.

  Victor didn’t move. His deep-set eyes followed the slow dance of the changing sky.

  Strapped to his back was a worn-out backpack, bulging with unknown contents—perhaps a few changes of clothes, a notebook, or maybe weapons, knives or guns. Each item inside could be a “small but vital piece” of a larger plan yet to unfold.

  His figure passed silently through the hospital’s automatic doors—into a world thick with the sharp scent of antiseptics, the hurried footsteps of nurses, the sterile announcements echoing over the PA system, and the relentless beeping of medical machines. A world completely divorced from the streets outside.Here, time seemed to pause—suspended in the fragility of life, in the anxious gazes of waiting relatives, and in the forced stoicism of patients clinging to their destinies.

  And into all of this, Victor walked—quiet, resolute—carrying not only a backpack filled with unspoken contents,but a story still untold.