How had she run into a serial killer... It was terrifying. With so many people around, why did he have to lock onto her? How could she be so unlucky?
Just the day before, he had only been a story on the news, something impossibly distant from her, yet here was that very danger right beside her.
To think that a person like this was actually living in this world.
...
Having successfully endured until clock-out time, Forsiman bade everyone goodbye in a good mood under his coworkers' envious gazes and set off.
After changing out of his work uniform, he even had time to eat lunch.
As for the meeting agreed upon on his phone and the life he was about to take, he seemed not to care in the slightest.
Contrary to his outward attitude, he revered life. Before hunting and taking a life, it was only natural that he brought out his best state.
Forsiman had been born in a makeshift field hospital in a war-torn region, where artillery shells could land nearby at any moment. Lacking water, electricity, and anesthetics, newborn life was unwelcomed there.
A child born of war was soaked in blood from an early age. The nature of his parents' work meant he had no fixed home, drifting alongside them between different warzones, refugee camps, and temporary medical stations.
Compared to the people he had killed on the battlefield in his teens, his record as the "Tourist" was somewhat unimpressive; he had only carried that moniker for a short year.
Forsiman didn't believe Lin Mo could change anything, but her personality and behavior were truly unfathomable, which left him perplexed.
The act of surrendering had been her attempt to probe him, so what was her next step? Since he had chosen to expose his identity to her to buy time, he naturally had to prevent her from leaking secrets.
To prevent further unpredictable variables from arising, it was time to end this farce. Communication and probing had gradually lost all meaning.
In truth, he should have acted last night, which would have spared him the hassle of dealing with so much aftermath, but her sudden counterattack had caught him off guard for a second, preventing him from acting in time.
Everything would return to its proper track. Every criminal who stripped others of their lives should be prepared for death, even himself.
Forsiman sent a message as he walked: 【Perhaps we can talk. I believe we can reach an outcome satisfactory to both sides. To show my sincerity, how about you choose the location?】
He wouldn't leak her secret, and she needed to satisfy his bloodlust. It promised to be a trade that satisfied both parties, a casual hunt.
Forsiman continued to project goodwill; if the location was suitable, he would strike during the day.
With her cautious personality, she would definitely pick a location to his liking.
...
Lin Mo opened the security door, took the raincoat from last night out of a drawer, and wrapped it around her waist again. Taking a tough, durable rope with her, she also retrieved a bag of brown powder from a jar in the corner.
Seeing the message pop up on her phone, her palms broke into a sweat, nerves racking her body. She sent over a pre-selected location, thoughtfully set a time, and headed downstairs.
Even if he hadn't suggested meeting, she would have proposed it herself.
The bus route led somewhere remote. She waited patiently, stepped onto the bus, watched the swaying streetscape outside, and then transferred to different modes of transportation.
Arriving at her destination, the suburban cafe turned out to be unexpectedly clean and tidy.
She sat in a corner of the cafe, her pale fingertips repeatedly rubbing against the side of a coffee cup, her fingernails pressed white with excessive force.
What should she do...
Forsiman drove over in his private car. The moment he stepped out, he spotted the silhouette by the window; she was so absorbed in thought that she didn't notice him.
Her back was stretched taut like a tight string, as if she were ready to spring up and bolt at any second. With nothing concealing her face or body, she was overly candid, deviating somewhat from the cautiousness he had envisioned.
He casually glanced at the surveillance camera in front of the cafe entrance.
He possessed the ability to erase surveillance footage, but what gave her the confidence to show her full face? Judging by their chat, she didn't seem to trust him to keep her secret that much either.
He walked into the shop, placed an order under Lin Mo's watchful eyes, and sat down. Compared to her attitude of wishing she could vanish on the spot, he was thoroughly natural.
“You look very nervous. This is already our third meeting,” Forsiman said, easing the atmosphere. “How about this: I'll introduce myself first, and I hope you can be frank with me in our conversation that follows.”
“I'm Forsiman, a technical consultant at the Municipal Bureau Forensic Center. Over ten years ago, I served as a doctor without borders in an overseas medical team.” He spoke entirely on his own before turning his gaze back to Lin Mo.
Lin Mo truly had no idea how to introduce herself and merely gave her name dryly.
This was well within Forsiman's expectations, but he enjoyed stirring trouble. “I've said so much, yet you...”
Lin Mo interrupted him, getting straight to the point. “Did you take those photos? Why did you do that? What do you want from me? What could I possibly give you?”
Forsiman said, “Mm, I indeed took the photos. Due to a job transfer, I accidentally bumped into your private business. I really am sorry.”
Lin Mo's confusion came through, giving Forsiman the mood to explain, as if addressing a newborn lamb.
“Do you want to know how I found you? There is a small group of people in this world who can attract one another; the magnetic fields on them are different—”
Lin Mo asked, “How do you prove the person in the photo is me?”
His speech cut short, Forsiman choked slightly. She was already here, so why was she still putting up a futile deathbed struggle? If it wasn't her, how could she have taken his text messages to heart, much less come to meet him instead of treating them as a prank?
The server placed a cup of pour-over coffee on the table, and he shifted into a more comfortable posture.
“My photography skills aren't great, but if you insist on a clear shot of the face, it's not impossible,” he said, casually pushing the cup handle as he looked up. “Do you want to see?”
Lin Mo nodded. “I understand.”
Perhaps the interruption of his self-analysis had displeased him, as a faint hint of murderous intent radiated from him.
This aligned with her own intent—he wanted to kill her, too. Realizing this layer made Lin Mo feel all the more restless.
Through a few subtle signs, she had confirmed the core of his personality: first, letting her choose the location, and then saying things meant to let her die with full understanding.
Arrogance—extreme arrogance. A thoroughly repulsive personality.
Where did this disposition come from? Was it from his bloodstained hands? Was it from his confidence in his own power and strength?
Or was it his belief and faith that he was an agent of God, tasked with executing the evil?
After returning home, Lin Mo had re-read that news article and gained a rough understanding of his doctrine.
It was quite boring, so there was no need to elaborate further.
“One last question: why did you expose your identity? Aren't you afraid I'll call the police?” The confusion in Lin Mo's eyes was genuine. “If I blow your cover, it will be mutual destruction.”
“Because you can't bear to,” Forsiman said, his green eyes like vines that seemed intent on strangling her within them. “Don't you want to live? Even though I've only investigated your information from the past two months, that time was enough for me to understand you. Life is so precious to you that you would eradicate all hidden obstacles—how could you possibly give it up voluntarily?”
“Don't you know that under the law, taking a life requires paying with your own?”
Unregistered individuals roamed every corner of the world. Forsiman couldn't trace her past movements, but two months was already enough.
Forsiman chuckled. “I've killed many. Whichever way you look at it, you're the one taking the bigger loss.”
Lin Mo argued in her own defense, “Mine was self-defense...”
“Ah, the person you killed didn't actually do anything to you, did he? At most, he caused you some displeasure while you were working,” Forsiman said, puzzled by her resolute tone. “Could it be that in your fantasies, he had already done something?”
He added earnestly, “Even if you got a psychiatric evaluation showing mental illness, you still couldn't escape the death penalty.”
Forsiman had clearly grasped her personality inside out as well.
The person in front of him kept her head lowered, staring fixedly at the tops of her shoes. Forsiman suddenly tapped the tabletop, making her flinch.
“A soul that brings misfortune to others will also bring sin upon itself. Do you believe in religion, miss? Souls harboring darkness will be dragged into the dark. During the war, I gained...”
Perhaps because he had begun talking about something he loved, his speech seemed almost regress, laughing childishly like a kid.
Lin Mo couldn't understand a word of what he was talking about.
“Sir, could you move your car?” As the two were talking, the cafe waitress from earlier walked up to the table.
Smiling, she pointed through the window glass toward the car parked outside. “Your car is blocking mine, and I can't drive out.”
His words interrupted once more, Forsiman closed his eyes, his facial muscles twitching. When he opened them, he flashed a smile. “All right.”
He moved his car.
“Honestly, who moved my bike over here?” the waitress complained from behind, sluggishly pulling her electric bike out from where it was crammed in the corner. “How am I supposed to drive this?”
Staring intently outside, Lin Mo seized the opportunity to swiftly pull the powder packet from her bag and sprinkle it into his cup.
With no time to stir it, she grabbed the handle and gave it a quick swirl before setting it back in its original position.
Having finished moving the car, Forsiman returned to see Lin Mo maintaining her original posture without the slightest change. He pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The screen of Lin Mo's phone resting between her thighs lit up, the light reflecting off her pitch-black pupils.
【Thanks for covering my shift!】
She reached down and turned off her phone, its surface reflecting her emotionless face.
She worked part-time at this cafe, but since it was situated in the suburbs with low foot traffic, the boss usually didn't schedule shifts for her.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Forsiman take his seat again. He lowered his eyes and moved the coffee—which appeared completely normal—to the side.
...She was busted.
She should have known.
Lin Mo rubbed the wrapper in her pocket, the rustling sound echoing through her brain along her fingers.
Forsiman's expression didn't change much. Good-naturedly, he said, “Did I ever tell you? My sense of smell is very keen.”
The gloves were off!
Lin Mo snapped her head up as Forsiman felt a sudden pain in his thigh. Her reaction was far faster than he had anticipated, causing his mind to stall sluggishly for a beat.
She intended to make her move while there was no one around in the shop.
The syringe in his thigh was strikingly familiar. Forsiman reached for his pocket—it was completely empty. As expected, the anesthetic he had prepared for her was now being used on himself.
When had she stolen it?
It seemed she hadn't mentioned to him that her hands were extraordinarily quick.
Waves of darkness swam across his vision, leaving his body immobile. Yet a second later, he jerked violently backward, his right hand seizing Lin Mo's incoming wrist with staggering strength.
With a swift twist, Lin Mo's wrist gave a sharp crack, yet as if immune to the pain, she used the momentum to leap from her seat, vaulting over the table to drive her knee into his chest and abdomen!
Forsiman let out a muffled groan, sliding backward half a meter along with his chair from the impact. Lin Mo popped her dislocated wrist back into place and seized the moment to inject the remaining liquid from the syringe into him.
The drug didn't have much effect. Lin Mo had been certain the syringe in his pocket contained nothing good, yet surprisingly, it seemed to have little impact on the man himself.
Forsiman kicked over the coffee table. Amid the shattering sound of cups and saucers, he grabbed a piece of broken porcelain from the floor and hurled it at Lin Mo. Tilting her head to dodge, the shard grazed her cheekbone, drawing a spray of blood. She unwound the hemp rope coiled inside her sleeve and lashed it toward his neck.
Forsiman's knee slammed viciously into her lower abdomen while his hands clamped around her throat, fingers tightening.
Suffocating darkness and excruciating pain struck at the same time. She clawed at his eye sockets with her fingers and slammed her knee into his lower abdomen. Blood mingled with shattered glass. Though outmatched in both strength and skill, she wrapped around him like a mass of thorny briars—not lethal, but causing pain all over his body.
Catching an opening, Forsiman landed a hard kick that sent Lin Mo flying backward, slamming straight into the counter. Recovering quickly, she rolled into the back kitchen, grabbed a set of knives from a familiar spot, threw a glance at the messy dining area, and sprinted into the restroom.
“Guess you're not afraid... of me just running away.” Coughing, Forsiman pulled the syringe out of his thigh, stepped into the back area to grab a small knife that had fallen to the floor, and followed without a moment's hesitation.
Rounding the corner, he raised his knife, which collided with another blade with a sharp clang.
“Actually, I'm quite curious about how you got the stuff out of my pocket,” he said, looking up at Lin Mo, who cowered in the corner with half her ferocious face drenched in blood. “Aren't you going to clear up my confusion?”
The difference in their strength was too vast. Once Lin Mo's hand was knocked aside, she slammed into the wall again. As he drove his knee toward her, she dodged sideways, but was still struck in her upper right abdomen.
She heard the sound of her ribs snapping. The pain threw her brain into turmoil, and the imminent danger bred terror inside her, accompanied by a sudden surge of raging fury.
The drug injected into Forsiman's body finally began to take effect, making his movements hitch slightly. Harnessing a burst of strength from nowhere, Lin Mo slammed him directly to the ground.
The long knife plunged into his abdomen. The intense pain snapped Forsiman back to clarity, a suppressed curse escaping his lips as Lin Mo twisted the blade inside him.
The intense shock overwhelmed his brain within seconds, blurring his consciousness. Disbelief flickered in his eyes.
“You... kil—” Puncturing who-knows-where, Forsiman could no longer speak clearly. The hand holding his knife was pinned down by Lin Mo's foot, his green eyes tainted with excitement and madness.
“World... pain... replace...”
He used his remaining strength to jerk his body upward, nearly sending Lin Mo tumbling.
A man who was definitively bound to lose did not bring her any sense of relief. Instead, the strange sounds continually rasping from his throat—as if desperately trying to convey something to her—only heightened her terror.
Lin Mo took action, completely stripping him of any remaining signs of life.
【...Pi... ti...】
She heard the two slurred words Forsiman uttered right before he died, leaving her somewhat confused.
What did it mean? Pitiful, or what a pity?
Looking at the unnaturally upturned corners of Forsiman's mouth, she rolled over to sit on the damp tiles, curling her arms around her legs. A sudden wave of sorrow and horror washed over her.
Who was he talking to? Was he talking to himself? Or to her? Did he think she was pitiful?
Her body felt as if a gaping hole had been torn open in it. Fortunately, the broken rib hadn't punctured any internal organs, merely making movement somewhat inconvenient. Her eyes felt smudged with dirt, and the lights seemed to flicker and sway.
Her head spun dizzyingly, as if her entire brain had melted into slush, making her feel intensely nauseous.
Lin Mo staggered to her feet, stepped over Forsiman, and collapsed against the edge of the toilet, vomiting violently.
She should have let him speak a bit more, but she had been too afraid. She was sorry, but the threat he posed to her had been far too immense.
Her stomach was empty, churning with violent spasms. She hadn't eaten lunch, and only when there was nothing left to vomit did she lean against the wall, struggling to push herself back up.
Rate on N.U.
