Chapter 143: Gratitude

“Idiot, don’t go that way. Take the path on the right.”

“Ugh, moron, why did you open that door? Hurry up and close it!”

“Hey, you two are so noisy. Can’t you keep it down?” Lei Yin finally couldn’t endure it and voiced his protest.

However, no one paid him any attention. The two players, engrossed in their game, seemed to have forgotten the existence of anyone else.

The protester said helplessly, “I just don’t understand what’s so fun about these RPG games. Wandering around aimlessly in the same place—such a waste of time and utterly pointless.”

“Shut up! An old fossil like you, who’s only good for playing ancient games like King of Fighters ’97 or Beachhead, has no right to say that!” Takeda, offended on behalf of his beloved games, retorted loudly while continuing his treasure hunt.

“At least I’m not as bad as you two, barging into someone else’s home and hogging their TV to play games,” Lei Yin grumbled again.

“We’re just being considerate. You live here all alone, so we came over to liven up the atmosphere,” Yoshikawa said unapologetically.

“Such thoughtfulness. Since you’re so considerate, make sure to clean up the trash you brought before you leave, and sweep the floor too.”

“Uh, Takeda, which path should we take next?”

“The left one—no, the right one.”

The two rebels nonchalantly ignored their friend’s parting remarks.

Lei Yin turned back and saw Shiraishi Akira, who was sitting across from him, still deep in thought. Lei Yin didn’t rush him, instead quietly picked up his tea cup and took a sip. It wasn’t a speed chess match; one should think things through before making a move. Life, however, didn’t necessarily need to be so calculated. If everything were planned in advance, where would the fun be? Not many people likely lived that way, though.

Lei Yin was interrupted once again—this time by the doorbell ringing outside.

Kazumi, challengers, salespeople—several possibilities flashed through Lei Yin’s mind.

When he opened the door, however, it seemed he had guessed wrong.

Standing outside were five people, three men and two women, all of whom looked like students. None of them carried anything that could be considered a weapon or sales items.

“Excuse me, are you Gennai-san?” a buzz-cut boy asked first.

“I’m Gennai Masashi. How can I help you?” Lei Yin abandoned pointless guessing and focused on hearing their purpose.

“We’re Chinese international students studying at Teikyo University. We’re here to express our gratitude to you,” the boy said sincerely.

“Gratitude? Let’s find a place outside to talk. Please wait a moment.” Considering their group size and the fact that his place was already occupied, Lei Yin thought it best to take them elsewhere.

“Akira, I’m stepping out for a bit,” Lei Yin said to Shiraishi Akira after returning inside.

“Come back quickly,” Shiraishi Akira didn’t want their game to end just yet.

“I shouldn’t be too long.” Lei Yin then left.

It wasn’t that Lei Yin particularly liked coffee; he simply found cafés quieter. So he brought the international students to a nearby coffee shop.

After the waiter served each of them a steaming cup of coffee, Lei Yin addressed the boy who had first spoken. “Can you explain more clearly? As far as I remember, I don’t know any of you, let alone done anything to deserve your thanks.”

“Gennai-san, let me introduce myself. My name is Zhang Mingyu, from Xiamen, Fujian. I’m a third-year business student at Teikyo University. These people here are also Chinese international students like me.”

After each person introduced themselves, Lei Yin nodded politely in acknowledgment.

Besides Zhang Mingyu, the two other boys were Wu Yanfang from Hubei and Zhang Donghai from Zhejiang. As for the two girls, one was Fang Xiaolei, also from Zhejiang, and the other was Zhang Shan, a quiet girl from Sichuan.

Zhang Mingyu had been in Japan the longest. After coming with his father, he enrolled directly into a Japanese high school and had now been in the country for five years. The shortest stay belonged to Zhang Donghai, who, like Lei Yin, was a new student this year. Perhaps because he wasn’t yet fluent in Japanese, he had barely spoken during the conversation.

“Gennai-san, we came here today to thank you for your courageous stance during the history class the other day. When we heard about your actions, all the Chinese and Korean international students were deeply moved. We’re all extremely grateful for your sense of justice. The few of us are here to represent the Chinese international students in expressing our heartfelt thanks for what you did,” Zhang Mingyu said with growing emotion.

“You’re being too kind. I was simply speaking the truth.”

“You…” The group was startled to hear him speak in fluent, authentic Mandarin.

“Is it surprising? Or is there something wrong with my pronunciation?” Lei Yin continued to smile as he spoke in Mandarin.

“We never expected Gennai-san to speak Chinese so well. It’s truly astonishing,” Zhang Donghai from Zhejiang said, his face still showing unrestrained surprise.

“May I ask where you learned Chinese? Could it be that someone in your family is Chinese?” Wu Yanfang, a square-faced young man, asked curiously.

“I admire Chinese culture greatly, so I taught myself Chinese,” Lei Yin replied, unwilling to use the false excuse of having Chinese relatives to mislead them.

Hearing his response, Wu Yanfang seemed slightly disappointed.

“We know that some people have been maliciously slandering you behind your back. If you don’t mind, all of us international students would be willing to help you,” Zhang Mingyu offered sincerely.

“Thank you for your kind offer, but I don’t need any help. You’ve all come from afar to study here, and I don’t want you to get involved in this matter. Any rumor will eventually die down, so there’s no need to pay attention to their words,” Lei Yin refused decisively.

“But—”

“There’s an old saying: ‘The more you explain, the darker it gets.’ I trust you understand what I mean.” Lei Yin clearly didn’t want to continue discussing the topic.

Lei Yin was adamant about not involving them. The current situation was limited to a few radical university students holding a personal grudge against “Gennai Masashi.” However, if these Chinese international students got involved, it could escalate into a confrontation between Japanese students and Chinese students. At that point, the situation would become much more complicated.

Zhang Mingyu lowered his head and thought for a moment before saying, “I think I understand what you mean, Gennai-san. If you ever need help in the future, we’ll do our best to assist you.”

“Thank you.”

As time passed, the conversation gradually shifted to casual topics. Lei Yin, who hadn’t chatted with fellow Chinese in quite some time, found himself engrossed in the discussion. The Chinese students were surprised to discover that this Japanese man, fluent in Mandarin, had a profound understanding of China that far exceeded their expectations.

Lei Yin shared many historical events and details about regional specialties in China that even they, as Chinese, were hearing for the first time. Faced with a Japanese person who seemed “more Chinese than the Chinese themselves,” Zhang Mingyu and the other boys couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed. Meanwhile, the two girls found themselves increasingly curious about this somewhat mysterious young man.

After chatting casually for nearly an hour, Lei Yin bid them farewell. The group of international students reluctantly exchanged contact information with him before saying their goodbyes.

When Lei Yin returned to the apartment, he found Takeda and Yoshikawa still playing their game, but Shiraishi Akira was nowhere to be seen.

“He went out to buy cigarettes,” Takeda mumbled through a mouthful of chips while skillfully handling the controller.

“Hey, when are you guys leaving? I need to head out tonight,” Lei Yin said, recalling his dinner plans with Naoko.

“Don’t bother seeing us off. Just remember to bring us back some souvenirs,” Yoshikawa replied, seemingly only catching the last part of what Lei Yin said.

Seeing how stubbornly they refused to leave, Lei Yin had no choice but to let it slide.

At that moment, the door opened, and Shiraishi Akira returned.

“Masashi, there’s a letter outside,” Akira said, handing it to Lei Yin after removing his shoes at the entrance.

“Is it a challenge letter?” Takeda immediately paused the game and turned to look.

Since Lei Yin had walked away unscathed from the karate club incident, it had been days since he’d received a challenge letter. However, the number of curse letters had only increased.

“You check it yourself. I’m going to take a shower,” Lei Yin replied, tossing the letter to Takeda before heading to his room to grab a change of clothes.

After finishing a refreshing shower, Lei Yin walked back into the living room. Suddenly, Takeda shouted, “Masashi, this isn’t a challenge letter—it’s a love letter!”

***

In the underground shooting range of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, the piercing sound of gunfire echoed repeatedly.

After firing the final bullet, Ayano Eiko removed the earmuffs from her head.

This shooting range was one of her frequent haunts. As a competitive young inspector, she refused to be seen as just another decorative figure sitting behind a desk. Since taking on the role of Chief Inspector, she had made it a habit to come here for shooting practice whenever time allowed. Today, however, she had fired more bullets than usual.

After returning her weapon at the reception desk, Eiko felt a wave of fatigue.

It had been over a week, and the so-called bait operation appeared to be ineffective.

With the cooperation of district police stations, officers disguised as civilians had been stationed in areas where the suspect was likely to appear, acting as bait to lure him out. Yet the results were far from promising. Every two or three days, another victim was found completely drained of blood. Like the infamous Tokyo Ripper case, it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep this from the public. Rumors of a “vampire demon” were spreading wildly. Some people had even started hanging crucifixes and garlic near their homes. While laughable, these actions reflected the growing anxiety among the populace. The pressure from above was mounting as well.

Despite officers working overtime to catch the killer, their efforts yielded little success, leaving many demoralized.

The so-called “vampire demon” seemed to anticipate the police’s every move, never once appearing within their line of sight. Was there something about the victims that they were overlooking? Eiko pondered this as she drove.

Though her habit of thinking while driving wasn’t ideal for traffic safety, at least, up to now, there had been no reports or rumors of her negligence causing accidents.

However, this rumor seemed poised to materialize tonight, as Inspector Ayano Eiko’s car failed to brake in time and collided with the railing of a road sign.

The cause of the accident wasn’t her less-than-perfect driving habits but rather a piercing scream that had abruptly reached her ears.

With no time to apologize to the now-tilted road sign, Eiko sharply turned the steering wheel and sped toward the direction of the scream.

Though an overly rational person like Ayano Eiko didn’t believe in something as intangible and unscientific as intuition, at this moment, she felt she was drawing closer to the killer.

It was already past 10 PM. While most of Tokyo was equipped with adequate lighting, there were still shadowed corners left untouched by streetlights. The scream had come from one such neglected spot.

When Eiko’s car reached an area near a small park, the scream had ceased.

Under the dim glow of the streetlights, she could only see a lone swing swaying gently in the breeze.

As a professionally trained officer, Eiko knew it was dangerous to exit her vehicle in such a dark environment. She didn’t immediately get out. Instead, she slowed her car to a crawl, holding her pistol in her right hand as she methodically searched the area.

After circling most of the park with her car, she finally spotted something resembling a human figure lying on the ground in the beam of her headlights.

To test the temperature of water, one must touch it. Similarly, to confirm her suspicions, Eiko eventually opened her car door and stepped out.

Even someone who insists they don’t believe in ghosts might feel fear when standing alone in a deserted cemetery at midnight. In this moment, Eiko experienced a similar tension. Her grip on the gun’s handle was so tight that her hand started to go numb.

When she was just a few steps away, she confirmed it was indeed a person. But whether they were alive or dead remained unclear.

As she touched the individual’s hand, she felt a faint warmth. However, she already knew this was a corpse—there was no longer any breath left in the body.

Turning the victim over, she saw it was a man in his thirties, reeking strongly of alcohol. Pulling back his collar, she confirmed her suspicion: a ghastly bite mark on his carotid artery. Thin streaks of blood were still trickling from the wound.

Seeing the blood flow, a thought struck Eiko. Previous autopsy reports showed that all victims had been completely drained of blood, not a single drop left. But this was the first time blood was still seeping out.

This could only mean one thing: the killer had been in the middle of feeding and had been interrupted by her arrival. If this assumption was correct, it implied the killer had just left—or was still nearby.

Suddenly, a chilling sensation shot through her, making her hair stand on end.

She abruptly straightened, gripped by an intense feeling of unease.

She thought she heard the sound of heavy, animal-like breathing emanating from somewhere nearby…