A Guide to Raising Snake Spirits - Chapter 22

Shiraishi Haru saved the photo.

[Shiraishi Haru]: Thanks.

[Yanagi Kura]: No problem, but man, what’s your deal? Are you some kind of Special Ops alien or something?

[Shiraishi Haru]: I don’t know.

[Yanagi Kura]: You don’t know?

[Yanagi Kura]: That’s it, my competitive streak is triggered. I’m going to dig deeper.

[Shiraishi Haru]: Then I’ll leave it to you.

The Guide was fast asleep in the bedroom next door. The house was silent, so quiet that Shiraishi could hear the faint sound of Mizuki Nozomi’s breathing through the wall. Based on the rhythm, he could almost picture the sleeping face he had just seen.

Then there was the sound of the Black Mamba rubbing against its wooden perch to shed its skin. A restless, rustling sound, it would rub vigorously for a long time, stop as if exhausted, and then repeat the process a moment later.

After two days of effort, the Black Mamba had shed most of its old skin, but a small, stubborn section remained stuck. Its master was currently preoccupied with his own issues and had no energy to help peel it off.

Shiraishi Haru picked up the Black Mamba. The spirit body looked at him with a weary, human-like gaze before submissively coiling its dark, sleek length around his shoulder.

The Sentinel filled the bathtub with warm water. After testing the temperature, he placed the entire snake into the tub. The spirit body tried to dart out the moment it felt the water, but the Sentinel was quick, catching it before it could escape.

The Black Mamba’s coffin-shaped head rubbed affectionately against the back of the Sentinel’s hand.

Water splashed everywhere as the spirit body struggled, soaking the Sentinel’s clothes and leaving the floor dripping wet.

Soaking softened the dry skin, making it easy to peel. Only a bit remained stuck at the tip of the tail, and the skin over the eyes needed to be checked carefully to ensure no residue was left behind.

Shiraishi rolled up his sleeves, revealing lean, powerful forearms, and meticulously felt over every single scale with his hands.

The Guide’s spirit body was long and slender, with a body only about the width of an adult’s wrist, making it easy for Shiraishi to hold.

The Sentinel gripped the base of its tail with one hand and slid the stuck skin off the tip with the other. The spirit body’s tail flickered slightly.

A few milliliters of its venom could be fatal, and Shiraishi’s current posture left him completely exposed. Had the Black Mamba turned to strike, the Sentinel would have stood no chance at this range.

The snake stared at the Sentinel for a moment with its obsidian eyes, then turned away and relaxed its body.

In the master bedroom, the Guide seemed to sense something. He frowned as a strange flush crept up his cheeks, spreading down to his neck. Two or three faint scales shimmered on his skin. Feeling uncomfortable, he shifted restlessly under the covers, wrapping himself tighter.

By the time the operation was over, the Black Mamba had literally lost a layer of skin and was floating half-dead in the tub. Unfazed, the Sentinel brushed his wet bangs back, scooped the spirit body out of the water, and placed it back on its tree stand.

***

The Sentinel looked down at his damp clothes. Some of the wetness came from the initial splashing, and some from the snake rubbing against him later.

Since he was already in the bathroom, he decided to take a shower. However, out of habit, he only realized halfway through that he had already moved out of the Guide’s place and hadn’t brought a change of clothes.

After weighing his options between a bath towel and the old clothes soaked in “snake bathwater,” he silently wrapped the towel around his waist and tossed the dirty laundry into the smart washer to be cleaned and dried.

The Sentinel was busy drying his hair with another towel when a dull thud echoed from the bedroom, followed by the Guide’s muffled “Ouch.”

Shiraishi Haru rushed over to check.

The dark-haired Guide had rolled off the bed, blanket and all, and was currently lying on the floor in a dazed heap.

***

Mizuki Nozomi looked up and locked eyes with Shiraishi, who was wearing nothing but a towel.

Water droplets still clung to the Sentinel’s chest, tracing the well-defined contours of his muscles as they slid downward.

In his groggy state, the Guide stared fixedly at Shiraishi’s chest.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Mizuki said dryly.

Shiraishi took two steps forward and offered his hand.

“Can you get up?”

The dark-haired Guide tried to break free, but his body was pinning the blanket down, and his limbs felt like jelly due to the rut. After two weak struggles, he ran out of energy and simply lay there like a salted fish.

Mindful of his towel, the Sentinel carefully found an angle that wouldn’t cause an accidental exposure, then scooped the Guide up, blanket and all—in a princess carry and placed him back on the bed.

As if possessed, Mizuki reached out and wrapped his arms around Shiraishi’s lean waist, pressing his face against the Sentinel’s bare abdomen. He used Shiraishi’s skin, still cool from the shower, to soothe his own feverish face.

The Sentinel froze, and the hand he was about to withdraw stayed still.

…

On the morning the rut finally ended, Mizuki Nozomi woke up to the familiar scent of coffee-flavored pheromones filling the house. Logically, he was confused, but emotionally, he was used to it.

Mizuki: So, what exactly happened over the last seven days?

Memories of the rut were like a thick fog; everything was hazy.

Pulling Shiraishi into his bed, the sound of water from the bathroom while he was half-asleep, falling off the bed and being carried by Shiraishi…

Mizuki massaged his temples.

The good news was that a message from his father arrived, breaking the awkward tension.

[Dad]: I probably took that for you, why are you digging it up all of a sudden?

Having emerged from the rut feeling refreshed, Mizuki was now full of energy and ready to go three hundred rounds of verbal sparring with his old man.

Seeing his father’s reply, Mizuki chuckled and typed back.

[Mizuki Nozomi]: No, think back more carefully.

[Dad]: I am. I took it right in front of our house.

[Mizuki Nozomi]: The angle is all wrong. Look at the height, it wasn’t you or Mom.

His father tried to dodge.

[Dad]: Maybe one of us was crouching when we took it.

[Mizuki Nozomi]: If the photo album wasn’t damaged by water, why did you say it was that day?

His father stopped replying.

[Mizuki Nozomi]: Come clean, or I’m telling Mom.

His father sighed, carefully tilting his terminal screen away from his wife’s sight.

[Dad]: Nozomi, there are many things you’re better off not knowing.

[Mizuki Nozomi]: Who exactly took that photo, and what else are you hiding?

[Dad]: I’ll tell you when your mother and I get back from our trip.

Mizuki wasn’t fooled by the diversion.

Growing up, his mother seemed eccentric and actually was, while his father seemed like a simple, honest man but was actually impossible to read. Plus, their trips usually lasted six months.

[Mizuki Nozomi]: When are you coming back? Give me a date.

[Dad]: Next month, we’ll be back by the middle of next month.

[Mizuki Nozomi]: Fine. If you aren’t back by then, I’m telling Mom.

Having issued the ultimatum, his business with his father was settled. Now, he had to face the Sentinel.

The smart butler was already announcing, “Sentinel Shiraishi Haru, welcome home.”

The Sentinel entered from the foyer, carrying a bag in each hand.

Shiraishi’s eyes swept over the Guide.

The renewed clarity in his eyes and the fresh scent of his pheromones signaled that the rut was over.

“What did you go out for?” Mizuki asked.

“I studied some recipes on the StarNet, want to try some?” Shiraishi asked.

He had picked up this trick from the Tower forums: to win a Guide’s heart, you must first win their stomach. In an age of pre-packaged meals and synthetic food, a good home-cooked meal was a massive bonus.

…

“I think, since we have some time, why don’t we start a round of Ghost Hunter?”

Mizuki pointed at the fixed terminal and said to Shiraishi, “You can see the difference between a fixed terminal and a handheld one. They use these a lot during the Tower trials, since full-scale combat sims are too expensive and not safe enough.”

“Okay, how do I use it?”

Shiraishi had seen the Guide emerge from this machine many times, but he had never tried it himself.

“Come here,” Mizuki gestured for him to lie down, “Put your hands here, straighten your legs, and just relax.”

Shiraishi stepped in and lay down.

The interior was like a luxurious, comfortable recliner with a faux-leather surface. The lid was semi-transparent, allowing the person inside to see out.

There were grooves for his hands. When Shiraishi pressed his palms against them, the moist, tacky silicone texture immediately suctioned to his palms and fingertips.

“Press that button, and the lid will close automatically. Just close your eyes and wait to enter the main lobby,” Mizuki instructed from the side. “I’ve already downloaded the game, just select Ghost Hunter.”

Shiraishi closed his eyes.

The fixed terminal automatically scanned his features, and the system greeted him: “Hello, please create a personal account.”

Shiraishi thought for a moment and used a homophone for his name in reverse.

He entered “Bluestone Slab” in the name field, filled out the rest of his info, and entered the lobby.

The Guide had quite a few apps in his lobby; it took a while to scroll through.

Shiraishi quickly found the game titled Ghost Hunter. The cover featured a dark purple image of a hooded hunter.

As soon as he entered, a user named “Today, I Conquer” sent him a friend request.

[Today, I Conquer]: It’s Mizuki.

Mizuki was able to add him instantly because communication contacts’ game accounts show up in the recommended friends list. Seeing a new player with a default avatar, he figured it was Shiraishi.

[Bluestone Slab]: How did you log in?

[Today, I Conquer]: You can log in on a handheld terminal too, it’s just not as immersive as the fixed one. Doesn’t matter, though. Want to check the rules first?

The overall style of Ghost Hunter was dark and gloomy. The tutorial was very polished, featuring both text and video explanations.

The basic rules of Ghost Hunter were as follows: players are assigned to three factions—Hunters, Ghosts, and Civilians. Each role has different health points, special abilities, and victory conditions.

[Today, I Conquer]: Message me when you’re done reading, and we’ll start a practice round.

[Bluestone Slab]: Okay.

Mizuki invited him to a party and entered random matchmaking. They were placed in a six-player game with basic rules: one Hunter, two Ghosts, and three Civilians.

After Shiraishi’s screen went black, he opened his eyes to find himself on a spooky, overgrown street. The path was paved with dilapidated bricks, and dim streetlights barely illuminated the ground. The moon was obscured by dark clouds, leaving the sky pitch black.

It seemed to be a game setting; even the Sentinel’s night vision wasn’t working well here.

He was wearing a long, heavy black cloak that covered him from head to toe. Underneath, the game had assigned him a simple cloth outfit with a card pouch hanging at his waist.

In the upper-left corner of his vision were his health and stamina bars. A five-minute countdown to the start of the match appeared at the top center. The moment he saw it, the time began to tick away. Soon, glowing blue arrows appeared on the ground, guiding the players forward.

Shiraishi followed the path to the end and saw a hunched old man standing in front of a gate. Behind him were the hazy silhouettes of dilapidated structures unlike any building Shiraishi had ever seen. Elevated iron tracks twisted through the air in a chaotic, irregular mess, and a large wheel with many small compartments hung in the distance.

As he approached, the hunched old man looked up. His sunken, withered cheeks made his milky-white eyes look even more terrifying. His grimy, ash-gray hair clung to a face covered in age spots.

The old man wore a tattered, filthy yellow jacket. A grease-stained name tag on his chest faintly read “Supernova Amusement Park.” The hems of his pants were frayed and worn.

He spoke slowly, his voice hoarse and grating, as if he hadn’t used his vocal cords in decades.

“Welcome to Supernova Amusement Park… cough, cough.”

The old man hacked up some phlegm and coughed violently. The smell of decay in his breath hit Shiraishi’s nose, making the Sentinel frown.

“Please, enjoy yourselves. We have all kinds of attractions and a very hospitable staff…” At this, the old man chuckled as if he had said something hilarious, then added cryptically, “Hehe, just watch out for the devils hiding in the crowd.”

The old man stepped aside to reveal the gate. Decorated with gaudy, colorful lights, the dilapidated entrance looked even more eerie in this setting. A few bulbs flickered, seemingly short-circuited.

An amusement park was supposed to be a place of joy, but this place seemed more likely to make people cry.

Shiraishi calmly checked his identity card: Civilian. According to the rules he had memorized, Hunters and Civilians were on the side of the “Good.” The Civilians needed to complete tasks and solve puzzles to escape within the time limit.

In this round, counting the Hunter, there were four “Good” players. The victory condition for the “Good” faction was for at least half the team to escape, meaning two survivors would count as a win.

Ghosts would hunt Civilians, and the Hunter could kill Ghosts. However, if the Hunter’s identity was exposed, the NPCs would swarm and attack them.

The official lore of Ghost Hunter was that it was a chaotic world where Hunters were not welcomed by the Ghost NPCs.

The problem was that at the start, everyone’s identity was hidden. Ghost players could pretend to be Civilians. If a Hunter accidentally killed a Civilian, they were essentially doing the Ghosts’ work for them.

Additionally, there were “lose-lose” scenarios where all players were killed by NPCs, or all the Ghosts were dead but the Civilians failed to solve the puzzles before time ran out.

With a little time left before the official start, Shiraishi reached into the pouch at his waist and pulled out a white card.

Support