A saintess? She's just a bad woman.

Page 167

"I'm sorry, everything you've experienced these past few days is real. I am neither a product of imagination nor an insignificant part of a dream woven by the brain."

Before Saint Karina could even form a word, the woman's face suddenly loomed larger, shortening the distance between them.

"I truly exist in the world, as you can see."

Saint Karina still didn't get a definite answer. The mysterious young woman's thin lips curved into a charming smile, she tossed her cascading black hair, and her body slowly sank down.

Then, my lips felt cold.

The touch was initially cold, but after a while, an indescribable softness and comfort swept over her lips, and she finally understood what was happening.

My first kiss, which I've cherished for almost 19 years since birth, was stolen by something I don't know if it was human or ghost.

I should have listened to my classmate Su Han's advice and gotten to know the most beautiful girl in the Chinese Literature department. Tonight I had a chance to spend the night with her. Although it's rather lewd to make a move on a girl I don't know well under the cover of darkness, it's at least better than what happened now.

"Well……"

She could only utter weak monosyllabic words, and her inability to move her body left her with no choice but to lie there and suffer.

We are like fish on a chopping board, at the mercy of others.

The cold air seeped through their pressed lips, down their throats, and into their internal organs, bringing a bittersweet experience. Their lungs were nearly empty of oxygen, and their brains were on the verge of shock.

Without his glasses, his vision blurred, leaving only the black-haired, golden-eyed woman's face, radiating a frivolous smile, clearly visible. Their faces were close together, noses touching, a few soft strands of hair brushing against each other's cheeks.

Their kiss grew deeper and longer, and Saint Karina's consciousness was dragged to the bottom of the dark pool. Before she completely lost consciousness, something seemed to have merged with her blood, bones, and muscles, something that could never be removed.

……

Santa Karina felt like she was having a long dream—a strange dream in which she was relentlessly pursued by a young woman in a red dress and engaged in bizarre conversations.

The sun was shining brightly in the daytime, and the new week had begun as scheduled. The digital clock on the desk showed 8:35 a.m. Classes didn't start until the afternoon, so I could happily sleep in and have lunch.

The room was normal; there was no woman in a red dress, no eerie ghosts, and the Shiva statue opposite her gave her a kind smile.

"Just say it's because of too much mental stress..."

Since the person is unharmed, with no visible wounds or obvious pain, it proves that everything done before sleep was an illusion. The slight dampness on the lips is likely due to drooling in one's sleep.

Young people in the 21st century shouldn't believe in supernatural or bizarre beliefs. Saint Karina somewhat regretted spending two hundred dollars on that pile of stuff.

She opened the door and entered the living room, her yawn caught in a moment before she could even yawn.

The woman in the red dress I saw last night was wearing nothing today except an old apron hanging on the kitchen wall, and was openly using cooking utensils.

Several dishes were laid out on the table, their aroma filling the air.

Saint Karina let out a series of piercing screams.

"Ow—"

The scene before her inevitably plunged Santa Karina into the second period of intense confusion in her life.

The first time was during the original owner's experience: her parents died in an accident, the family property was auctioned off to pay off debts, and she became a homeless orphan. The second time is now; she was just looking for clues, but she was haunted by a female ghost.

She forcefully wiped the moisture from her lips, grabbed a kitchen knife and held it in front of her, regretting that she hadn't chosen Muay Thai as an extracurricular activity, but instead chose the piano next to it.

A piano is utterly useless in a critical moment; you can't exactly smash a grand piano against a vicious thug. If this woman had learned Muay Thai, she wouldn't be shamelessly swaying her pale body while cooking in the kitchen.

"You... I called the police."

"The police can't do anything about it. You saw it yesterday too, I wasn't in the surveillance footage. Now the surveillance folder on your computer is completely empty, be careful you don't get criticized for making a false report and wasting police resources."

The woman was composed, as if she were the owner of the house.

"Sit down and have breakfast first. We can talk slowly. There's one last dish yet, please wait a moment."

Stirring up ingredients, the sound of the spatula hitting the wok brought back fond memories for Santa Karina. She didn't feel anything special cooking for herself, and didn't expect the food to taste particularly good; as long as it was edible, that was enough.

For almost ten years, no one had properly cooked for her; she didn't know whether to be happy or sad.

Wearing an apron and dressed in a way that maximizes shame, the young woman, whose name is still unknown, holds a round porcelain plate and places it in the center of the dining table.

"This dish is a common dish in the Ming Dynasty imperial cuisine for lunch - pepper vinegar shrimp. In the 15th century Ming Dynasty, pepper was a rare commodity. Only the imperial palace could use it to season dishes. Ordinary people were not qualified to use it."

"Then I should thank you for letting someone like me, who stays at home all day eating bland food, have a meal of royal quality."

Saint Karina channeled her grief and anger into her appetite, using this delicious main course to commemorate her lost first kiss. Even though her soul had been dominated by countless women, or perhaps dominated women, this was indeed her first kiss. The fact that she couldn't give it to her future sweetheart was a profound regret.

A first kiss isn't worth much. If you count it by the day, and you get a first kiss every day, you suddenly feel much better. She lost yesterday's first kiss, but today's is still there, so it's like nothing really disappeared.

Yesterday's self is not today's self, and the person who suffers losses is also yesterday's self.

Putting on her glasses, Santa Karina offered a brief prayer over the dishes on the table, then picked up her chopsticks and began to eat heartily.

Remove the shrimp whiskers and rostrum, devein the fresh shrimp, sauté them in minced garlic until fragrant, then add ground black and white peppercorns and stir-fry over high heat. Finally, spray with balsamic vinegar and sprinkle with chopped green onions for an amazing taste.

She ate several in a row, her expression as calm as a naive girl who had unknowingly wandered into a dangerous place. In reality, her premonition had already written the answer in her heart.

"I guess you must be a ghost."

"Guessed it right."

"This meal has twelve dishes, more lavish than usual. I guess it might be my last meal. After I finish the last bite and put down my chopsticks, you'll kill me using methods straight out of a horror novel."

Why do you think I'm bound to kill you?

"Guess."

Saint Karina appeared calm on the surface, but was actually in turmoil.

This ghost has a very straightforward personality, unlike the evil ghosts in novels who like to frighten and manipulate people, and finally kill the protagonist in extreme fear and despair.

She's simple and unpretentious; aside from her unconventional style, she might have been a respectable female rogue in her past life.

"Ghosts can hardly think of any other purpose than killing people."

My hand holding the chopsticks was trembling a little, and I almost dropped the shrimp on the ground.

"Actually, my purpose in approaching you is as simple as a blank sheet of paper."

The woman—nowadays, she should be called a ghost—was shown her impressive bosom, her cleavage swaying under her apron. Although she hadn't committed any illegal acts like ramming someone with her breasts, according to human laws, she would probably be arrested as an exhibitionist and subjected to a taste of fried chicken wings with rice.

"What purpose?"

Santa Karina paused, her hand still holding the food, intending to listen to her finish speaking before eating.

Even the strongest willpower can't withstand the torment of a female ghost. The mind is in a jumble of thoughts, unable to process the fact that ghosts exist. It takes a little time to sort out the thoughts.

An 18-year-old college student was having breakfast with a female ghost...

"The objective has been achieved; you are now my contractor."

The female ghost suddenly became serious, with a touch of chuunibyou (a Japanese term for someone with delusions of grandeur). Only magical girls in Japanese anime would be inexplicably bound by a biological contract and become its contractor.

"Being a magical girl is a high-risk profession, I'm not going to do it."

"Correction, is the master of ghosts."

A burst of red light erupted from the female ghost's cleavage, and Saint Karina felt her right hand begin to burn. A thin red thread appeared on her wrist, both real and illusory.

Touching it with your left hand, you can't feel the solidity with your fingertips; it passes through the middle of the silk thread.

A phantom emitting a blinding red light linked Saint Karina and the female ghost together. The other end of the red thread formed a closed loop, around the female ghost's neck, looking more and more like a game of alphabets.

"A person who can control ghosts for his own use is a ghost tamer. Ghosts serve ghost tamers, and ghost tamers nourish the ghosts within them at the cost of their own life force; they are mutually dependent."

"It's such a cliché premise... but it sounds very convincing coming from you."

"From now on, you must remember your identity. Before long, this world will be full of resurrected ghosts, and humans and ghosts will enter a new era of coexistence. If you want to live, you must keep hunting other ghosts and become stronger."

"I understand for now."

After listening to the ghost's story, Saint Karina nodded with a mixture of belief and skepticism, and finished her sumptuous lunch with extremely complicated feelings.

She was still alive after lunch. As agreed, the female ghost did not do anything harmful. Instead, she cleaned up the dishes on the table and washed them clean while wearing only an apron and no clothes.

A snow-white buttock—just looking at it for too long would make my shame explode. Even before she died, the female ghost was human; she looked no different from a human, and the physiological reactions she would have were still there.

As she continued watching, the pants were bound to get tighter and tighter. Santa Karina pulled out some of her old clothes from her closet—a T-shirt and shorts she'd bought online.

Driven by personal desire, she wanted to see the ghost's long legs.

"Hey, hurry up and put some clothes on. What kind of image does it make to walk around the house naked?"

"That's true, but your eyes have been fixed on my drum ever since. Do you perhaps have a thing for ghosts too?"

The female ghost saw Saint Karina clenching her legs, but pretended not to see anything in order to give the new ghost tamer some face.

"Just kidding. Humans and ghosts are different, how could I possibly have feelings for a female ghost?"

Santa Karina threw her clothes on the sofa, took a can of discounted coffee from the refrigerator, and slammed the bedroom door shut.

When she's upset, she vents her emotions in her diary.

On the top shelf of the bookshelf against the wall in the bedroom was a black leather notebook with a few blank pages remaining. As usual, Santa Karina opened the cover, only to find that everything she had written in the past two years was gone.

276. Currently committing the crime

"Did I remember it wrongly?"

Santa Karina searched the entire bedroom but couldn't find another notebook of the same style. Unless she had a memory lapse and was deluding herself into thinking she had a habit of keeping a diary.

She remembered very clearly that in the original owner's memory, there were only a few pages left in this book. She planned to finish writing it and then start a new one. She never thought that all the records she had made could be erased overnight.

The notebook hadn't become new; it was just as old as before. Although the pages were all blank, they felt soft and slightly yellowed, giving it a vintage feel.

Saint Karina's mood for writing in her diary was ruined by a series of bizarre and unexpected events. She put down her pen, propped her head up with one hand, and stared blankly at the blank pages.

The white paper easily reminded her of the female ghost's pale skin and smooth body wearing only an apron.

"No, what am I thinking? I should be thinking about what to do next."

As soon as he finished speaking, typeface appeared on the empty notebook on the table. The color changed from light to dark, from a pale red to a deep blood red, with faint flickering flames at the edges.

[You should be thinking about how to survive the female ghost. Becoming a ghost tamer comes at a price, and there's no time to dwell on your first kiss anymore.]

The vigorous strokes of the calligraphy danced on the page, seemingly mocking her.

"What...is this?"

Is there any doubt about the magic book that can write automatically?

This kind of thing was very common in her original world, but it wasn't in the world of this book.

Saint Karina has only been seen in fantasy works such as Harry Potter. Not only can she understand what the questioner says, but she can also give corresponding answers according to different questions, which is really magical.

Since ghosts exist in the world, what does a book that automatically replies count for?

She quickly accepted the fact that her diary, which she had kept by her side day and night, had come to life. Looking down, she saw new words appearing on the page, the previous content erased.

I don't even know what I am, so I'll just call myself Black Book.

"That woman outside... no, that female ghost, who is she?"

The words on the black book underwent another round of erasing and writing, a process shrouded in a magical atmosphere. Saint Karina dared not look away, afraid of missing a single detail.

【you guess? 】

"..."

The notebook suddenly became mischievous and didn't write down the answers for her.

"Don't guess, just tell me who that female ghost is? Why is she haunting me?"

Asking me questions comes at a price; there's no such thing as a free lunch.

"what would you like?"

Give me some of your blood. I'm starving. You don't have the ability to hunt other ghosts yet, so you can't give me food to fill my stomach. I can't eat human food.

"Just a little blood?"

It's true, honest and straightforward.

Saint Karina and the Black Book exchanged questions, the words on the paper jumping faster and faster. The Black Book seemed very excited, like a wild beast so hungry it was dizzy and desperately wanted to eat.

This book was part of the inheritance left by the deceased parents of the original owner. It was given to her by her parents as a birthday gift on her first birthday.

Originally, the book that was sent to her was a blank book without any horizontal or vertical lines. After her parents passed away, Santa Karina used it as a diary. Her purpose was to record important things that happened around her that she felt needed to be recorded.

The black book is quite thick, about 4cm in diameter. To the touch, it doesn't feel like paper, but rather like animal skin, or even human skin.

The birthday gift took an unexpected turn, transforming from an inanimate object into a "living" being capable of communication, which made her wary. However, since she had already encountered a female ghost and hadn't died, she figured the gift from her parents wouldn't harm her.

With a try-it-and-see attitude, I bit my finger, letting the blood flow from the wound, gathering into droplets that fell. The black book quickly absorbed the bloodstains on its paper and began to write new content.