UCPA Chapter 42: Four on an Outing

Chapter 42: Four on an Outing

Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Editor: PlumSauce

 

“I didn’t come here to argue with you!” Ms. Hai Jiu snapped.

“Neither did I, child. But I didn’t tell you to bring him! You should know, the moment I see him, I get chest pains,” Mr. Atwood said. Coraci didn’t need to translate for everyone to understand that “him” referred to Wu Jiu.

“We’ve been dead for ages! What chest pains could you possibly have?” Ms. Hai Jiu shot back.

“My whole body hurts! How many times have I told you? I just don’t want to see him, that’s all!” Mr. Atwood retorted.

Coraci kept translating quietly, his voice barely intruding on the specters’ regular bickering. He looked more like a personal interpreter at a summit meeting than someone breaking up a fight.

“And then,” Coraci continued, “Mr. Atwood said, ‘I’ve given ground countless times! I even tolerated you being with this man. Can’t you think about my feelings for once? I just don’t want to see him…’

“Ms. Hai Jiu’s reply was, ‘I know, Father, but it’s been nearly two hundred years. Can’t you accept him yet?’

“‘He’s someone I never want to see again!’”

Coraci stopped translating and glanced at his colleagues. “Can we give them a little privacy? I think they need to argue this out first.”

Hearing that, Atwood looked apologetic — though only Coraci could read his expression — and addressed the humans. “Sorry, I’m ashamed of myself. I get worked up so easily whenever the past comes up. I shouldn’t have been so rude. Uh… let’s set my family matters aside for now. I came to the Association for something truly frightening.”

“Don’t worry, I understand,” Coraci said for everyone’s benefit. “About what? I’ll translate for you.”

Atwood nodded, though he couldn’t resist glaring at Wu Jiu, who stood quietly in the corner.

“There’s been an incident at the old manor. The place has been haunted for one or two hundred years, but nothing serious ever happened — until now. This time, there’s been a death. Use whatever device you normally do to look up the manor’s address, and you’ll see the news.”

He meant a computer and the internet. Coraci did as asked and hooked his laptop up to the projector so everyone could see the headlines on the screen.

The “old manor” was the home where Mr. Atwood’s family had lived while alive, a house dating back to the eighteenth century. Decades ago it had served as a military hospital, but after the war it was abandoned again. Attempts to turn it into a museum or other attraction had always failed because of terrifying incidents.

Now it was hailed as one of the most authentic haunted houses in existence, with countless people claiming ghostly encounters inside. Naturally, there were ghosts there — Atwood and his wife had lived there ever since their deaths, and over the past century they had taken in seven or eight other homeless specters.

TV entertainment shows had done specials on the manor, and even foreign media had covered it. Young thrill-seekers often came to take photos or test their courage. The nearby town of Linton fiercely protected the haunted house, refusing to let developers touch the land because it brought customers to local motels and diners. The town even sold curse charms and talismans based on the manor — convincingly crafted, and popular with visitors.

Most visitors stayed in Linton, though a few brave youths would camp overnight inside the manor. Every year, several groups tried it. But recently, a young couple had spent a night there and never woke up.

That night, the specters rushed to Linton, desperately trying to alarm the townspeople. Unlike Hai Jiu and Wu Jiu, who had been altered by magic, the manor’s specters couldn’t touch physical objects. They couldn’t help the victims directly.

The bodies weren’t discovered until days later. The couple had been lying in a bedroom, no visible injuries, their faces twisted in terror.

The ghosts were frightened. They didn’t want anyone else to die, but the incident only convinced outsiders that vengeful spirits were at work. More people flocked to Linton, eager to see the haunted house for themselves. The manor’s specters had been busy ever since, trying to scare visitors away before they could last the night.

“Why can the specters leave the manor?” John asked Coraci in a quiet voice.

“They’re not the kind of ‘ghosts’ you’re thinking of — the ones bound to a house,” Coraci explained. “I told you, they’re specters. Some people call them shades or phantasms.”

Even with the translation, John didn’t really understand. His trainee exam hadn’t covered the topic of ghosts at all. Still, he understood at least that Atwood and the others could leave their house.

“What about the dead couple?” John asked. “Wouldn’t their ghosts be there too? Couldn’t you just ask them?”

Instructor Jere and Liz both stared at John, then at Coraci, as if asking silently, What exactly have you been teaching him?

Coraci sighed. “Do you remember the conditions and formula for how someone becomes a specter after death?”

John didn’t answer — he simply didn’t remember. The Association’s library was full of books on dark creatures. At first glance they sparked curiosity, but the moment you actually tried to read them, you discovered they were dry and dense, full of obscure, precise information — not at all as fun as books like The Complete Unsolved Mysteries of the World.

“Anyway, not everyone becomes a ghost after they die,” Coraci said. “You could even say that ‘becoming a ghost’ is the exception rather than the rule. It might happen in bursts or sometimes not at all. It’s like a lot of people have been robbed, but most people have never actually experienced a robbery.”

“I get it. Like being attacked by a vampire doesn’t always mean you die.”

“That’s one way to look at it, although the conditions for becoming a ghost are even stricter.”

Mr. Atwood cleared his already dry throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, the story isn’t over. Actually, after that young couple, there have been more deaths.”

“More?” Coraci looked back at the news reports on the screen. “Are there other updates? I hadn’t heard anything recently…”

“They weren’t tourists — they were exorcists. Two groups came at different times, five people in total. They all died inside the house. Their companions took care of the aftermath and didn’t report anything. I don’t know which organization they belonged to, or if they acted on their own. At the time, I heard they planned to investigate, so I let them in.”

Ghosts welcoming exorcists to investigate — that was a strange scene indeed, John thought silently.

“They seemed very professional. After hearing the details, they stayed overnight. The first exorcists, like the couple, never woke up. The second group had three people working together; one stayed up on watch, but he fell asleep too. The terrifying thing is, while all this was happening, the other specters in the house didn’t know a thing!”

“Didn’t know? Didn’t you pass through walls to see what was going on?” Coraci asked.

“That’s hard to explain,” Atwood pressed a hand to his chest, a gesture he’d made often in life to complain about his heart. “It’s like…we were completely unaware. We couldn’t remember anything. When we came to our senses, it was already the next day. Even if we stayed close to the exorcists at first, eventually we drifted away in a daze, totally oblivious to what had happened. It felt like someone blocked our senses.”

Coraci translated everything Atwood said. Liz, after listening, thought aloud, “Blocking specters isn’t hard. Stronger specters can do that. After all, specters vary greatly in power and ability; the differences between them can be astonishing.”

Carolyn’s eyes gleamed as she looked at Instructor Jere. “Can the Association approve killing it outright? I mean the killer.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet…” Instructor Jere warned her.

“We have to meet it anyway.” The blonde girl smiled sweetly, like she was about to go on a date with a new boyfriend. “I’m really looking forward to it. The last time I killed something was a year ago.”

The three specters all flickered slightly — if they were human, they’d probably be shivering. John understood their feelings perfectly.

This time, Coraci, Liz, Carolyn, and John would all head to the old manor together. Carolyn didn’t usually handle specter cases, while Liz was an expert exorcist skilled at dealing with all kinds of dark creatures. As partners, Carolyn would work with her together on this mission.

“We’re taking Carolyn’s car,” Coraci told Wu Jiu as they left the building. Wu Jiu poked half his head out of Coraci’s body. “Linton’s a bit far; you don’t have to drive. My magic can’t keep disguising you constantly — if a passing driver saw your face, it’d be bad.”

“And Mr. Atwood doesn’t want me going either,” Wu Jiu said with a bitter smile.

To others, Wu Jiu’s speech was just a string of indecipherable sounds. But judging from Hai Jiu’s comforting manner as she floated over to him, one could guess the gist.

John was very curious about the feud between these three specters. It seemed simple enough — just a father forbidding his daughter from seeing her lover. But if they’d been dead nearly two hundred years, why was Atwood still so hostile to Wu Jiu?

Also, did all three die together? They didn’t seem to be a family when alive… John felt awkward asking in front of Wu Jiu and Hai Jiu, especially since Wu Jiu could understand him. Asking about a specter’s death was rude. He decided to wait until after departure when the specter attendants weren’t attached to Coraci.

They set out early the next morning. Wu Jiu drove Coraci to pick up John at his dorm and then headed out to meet Carolyn and Liz near their apartment.

Carolyn arrived with a huge load — a travel satchel and a rolling suitcase, like she was going on vacation. Although the suitcase looked extremely heavy, John had no doubt it was filled with weapons.

“What are you wearing…” Coraci stared at her. Looking grim and half-asleep, Liz muttered a “I can’t convince her” before climbing into the passenger seat to nap.

Carolyn had braided her blonde hair into two plaits and wore a blue-black sailor-style uniform, like the school uniforms common in some East Asian countries. But this was definitely not a real uniform — no school uniform would show a sliver of stomach.

“Don’t you think it looks just like it?” Carolyn smiled, hands on her hips and chin raised proudly.

“Like what…?”

With dreamy eyes, she said, “Maybe we’ll fight in dreams, and this totally looks like Sucker Punch.”

“I’ve seen that,” John said, standing in the early morning shadows by the house. “That outfit looks like the girl called ‘Baby Doll’…”

Carolyn nodded vigorously. “Yes! That’s her! You’re such a good vampire!”

She ran to the driver’s seat to start the car, buzzing excitedly. Liz, trying to catch a bit more sleep, pulled out two earplugs and put them in.

Wu Jiu drove back alone, while Coraci and John climbed into the back seat of Carolyn’s car. Both side windows were tinted — the Association’s vehicles often carried supernatural beings, so this kind of privacy was standard.

Carolyn seemed to really enjoy the quiet morning roads with little traffic. She hummed to herself while driving, though no one could tell what tune it was.

“Actually, maybe it’s not like Sucker Punch after all,” John said to Coraci, who was looking at him with a strange expression.

“Of course not! We’re both guys.”¹

“I mean the monster part,” John replied. “Coraci, this is more like A Nightmare on Elm Street — the 2010 one — where the main characters get hunted as soon as they fall asleep…”

“Alright, looks like I need a horror movie refresher,” Coraci leaned back and pulled a book from his laptop bag. “And you could supplement your specter knowledge too. You won’t get car sick, right?”

John took the book and flipped through it but couldn’t focus on a single word. Maybe because of Carolyn’s relaxed vibe, they felt more like they were headed on a vacation than a mission, and reading just felt tedious.

“Oh, speaking of specters,” he said, deciding to ask the question that had been on his mind, “what’s the deal with Wu Jiu and Mr. Atwood…”

“That’s a tragic story, sir!”

A trembling, aged voice sounded right next to John’s ear. He jumped, pressing against the car door.

Atwood’s translucent form peeked out from the seatback, like a bas-relief. What was most surprising was that now everyone could understand what he was saying!

Liz, eyes closed, waved her hand. “Oh, that’s my doing. I put a magical device on his throat so it’s easier to understand him. Otherwise, Coraci would always have to translate.”

“Thanks, Liz,” Coraci said, examining the specter’s throat where faint lights flickered beneath the gray skin. “His voice is so clear now.”

“No way, you can do that?!” John was amazed. “Coraci, you should give your ghost attendants one too…”

“If it’s not absolutely necessary, I’d rather not,” Coraci shrugged. “John, do you know what kind of device this magic needs?”

John shook his head.

Coraci pointed to the flickering light in Atwood’s throat and flipped John’s book open to a page with a spell note. “It requires a diamond that’s at least 0.6 carats.”

Before John could say anything, Carolyn cut in proudly, “That’s nothing. Liz has earrings twice that size. Also, my car was bought with her credit card — the secondary card’s in my name…”

“I’m going to take a nap!” Liz shoved her earplugs back in with extra force.

“Let me tell you about this tragedy…” Atwood resumed, lowering his voice thoughtfully.

 

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