Chapter 22: Let’s Play a Game (1)
The woman had stopped right next to Dean and then asked in that high-pitched voice:
"Where is your ticket?"
In response to the large woman’s question, Dean had handed her his ticket.
The woman took the ticket from his hand and, shaking her head, said, "A ticket valid for three stops."
When Dean heard these words, he had finally managed to work out the connection between the destination on the ticket and the task he had been given.
This task required him to do whatever it took to reach the destination he had been given.
In this situation, the only thing to do was to find a way to do so.
The female cabin attendant walked past him to check the others’ tickets as well, then left the cabin.
At that very moment, almost all the ghosts had suddenly sprung to their feet and begun wandering around the vast cabin.
Dean, however, had rushed straight to the window and looked outside. He could now see everything clearly.
When he saw the word ’Zeppelin’, he’d thought it was just a misunderstanding, but he could really see it.
Looking up from the edge of the window, he could clearly see the zeppelin’s large, balloon-like structure.
"Woah..." Dean couldn’t help but exclaim.
Zeppelins were something humanity had imagined on several occasions throughout history, and had even succeeded in creating them, ushering in an era in the 1900s.
Following the Hindenburg disaster in 1937, this elegant flying machine, a perfect feat of engineering for its time, had been consigned to the dusty pages of history.
Apparently, this... hadn’t applied to the Nether.
Dean’s smile had widened considerably, and within a short while he had moved away from the window and returned to his seat.
There was another ghost sitting next to him.
The young man could clearly see that the ticket in the ghost’s hand read ’Skyline Borders’.
So, curiously, he turned to the ghost and said, "Excuse me?"
The ghost turned to him with surprising politeness and replied, "Yes?"
Dean, pointing to the ticket in the ghost’s hand, asked, "I accidentally bought the wrong ticket, and I really need to go to Skyline Borders. Would it be possible for me to buy your ticket?"
The ghost immediately shook his head from side to side and gave his reply.
"It is not possible. I know humans do not know much about the nether-realm, but these tickets are bound to the soul the moment you touch them. You cannot trade or sell them."
When Dean heard this reply, he was utterly taken aback.
"Thank you for letting me know, kind sir," said Dean.
For the first time in a long while, he had found himself in a situation where money couldn’t solve anything.
It was quite a frightening situation.
He was acutely aware that if he made even the slightest mistake, this dungeon would truly be his last.
With great anxiety, his legs began to tremble as he tried to think.
Just as he was doing so, a few ghosts from the other cabins suddenly entered theirs.
Dean turned directly towards them, and as he did so, he was met with a system notification:
[S-Grade tool ’Pocket Watch of the Unknown’ has been found.]
When Dean read what was written in the system notification, he furrowed his brow.
"Isn’t S-Grade stuff supposed to be really fucking rare?" he muttered to himself.
Well, it was. It really was.
Still, perhaps he’d simply become so lucky that he frequently came across things like this.
Meanwhile, these ghosts had stopped in front of a few people within a short time and then asked, "Hey, wanna play a game?"
Before anything else could happen, this group of ghosts and the four people in front of them were trapped within the Yin and Yang energies.
It was impossible to see inside from the outside, but Dean had been able to grasp, however vaguely, what might be happening by seeing the faces of the ghosts around him.
Just as he realised this, the ghost right next to him spoke:
"Tch-tch... It is such a pity. The living are being used like that."
The moment Dean heard these words, he turned straight to the ghost beside him and asked, "What do you mean?"
"They’re a well-known gang who use Sky Express all the time. Every time, they buy the cheapest tickets and go into every cabin except the aristocrats’ ones, playing games with the passengers," the ghost replied.
Dean furrowed his brow.
"What sort of game?" Dean asked.
When the ghost replied, "They won’t die. Still, they might lose the little money they have, and perhaps a few limbs," Dean realised what sort of game it was.
It was terrifying.
He’d find himself in a situation where he might lose his limbs, in a region where he couldn’t use his money.
He tried to think it through.
Yet he really couldn’t come to any conclusion.
How could he?
This was something completely different.
The young man wasn’t afraid; on the contrary, he was able to think quite calmly.
He simply couldn’t conclude, and that was precisely what was frustrating him.
He took a deep breath.
He realised he had no choice but to wait for his turn, and so he began to wait.
Time passed, and every time the energy enveloping the people and the ghosts vanished, someone would return to reality, looking almost half-dead.
Almost thirty minutes had passed when it was Dean’s turn.
"Hey, wanna play a game?"
As the ghost asked this question, the Yin and Yang energy enveloped the ghosts and Dean.
When the young man opened his eyes to find himself in a place littered with human body parts, he felt like vomiting on the spot, but managed to hold it in.
The ghosts now looked even more terrifying.
Instead of their earlier physical forms, they had taken on a more ethereal, distorted shape.
"Sit. We shall now play the game," the ghost said suddenly.
Dean swallowed hard and then sat down on the chair that had been pointed out to him.
The game could now begin.
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