From the moment I first came into contact with a real gun, I was well aware that I might end up dealing with official forces in the future, and secretly hoped for such a development.
However, I never expected the police to come knocking so quickly, nor could I believe how eerily similar reality would play out to the nightmares I'd had before.
That girl is a serial killer? Seriously?
Fear and excitement surged violently in my chest at the same time.
Perhaps my control over my facial muscles slipped a little, as the police officer before me raised an eyebrow and asked, "What's wrong? Do you recognize this face?"
"Nothing, it's just that..."
"Just that?"
"A little girl like this... could actually be a serial killer?" I shifted some of the disbelief I had earlier onto my tone at this moment.
"Oh, you're talking about her..." He nodded with deep understanding. "Someone asked about this before. Actually, she found a handgun somewhere. A rebellious girl going through her teenage years, her thoughts easily go to extremes, sometimes not valuing her own life or others'. She harbors resentment toward adults and society, and then she just happened to get a real gun. With both psychological and physical factors, it's easy for things to spiral out of control."
"Could she be classified as a murderer?" I asked, probing.
"If the circumstances are particularly severe, yes... You can check it online later to find out." He seemed unwilling to go further on the topic and asked, "So, have you seen her? Do you recognize this face? She's been around this area, and poses a serious threat to the safety of the locals. The sooner she's caught, the better. You could even earn a cash reward for reporting her."
Reporting would earn a reward, but on the other hand, harboring her would carry serious criminal responsibility, something I was well aware of. While it wouldn't be as severe as a life sentence as my nightmares had suggested, it would undoubtedly cast a shadow over my future.
Last night, during the first half of moving the girl, I consciously avoided pedestrians and street cameras. In the latter half, I placed her into a large suitcase for transport. In theory, I shouldn’t have been easily exposed. But the problem was that I wasn't someone who routinely prepared for criminal activities, so I couldn’t be absolutely certain I had avoided all surveillance cameras. There could be cameras in some hidden corners that I hadn't noticed. The possibility of being caught by the authorities was real.
Perhaps this police officer in front of me had already gathered unfavorable evidence against me, and now he was giving me a final chance to confess. It was best for me to admit that I acted out of temporary confusion and quickly turn in the "hot potato" of a girl before there was no turning back.
But, after all the trouble and having encountered such an extraordinary event, up to this point, am I really going to end this mysterious encounter as just an enthusiastic bystander? I haven’t even heard any of the story yet!
There were still several perplexing questions surrounding that girl, and the explanation of "a rebellious girl who somehow found a real gun" didn’t even begin to satisfy my curiosity. Once I handed her over, I feared I would lose the opportunity to continue being involved in this strange incident forever.
I can't give up that child, not until I'm fully satisfied.
When the police officer asked me, I pretended to think for a moment before answering, "I don't think I've seen her."
"Alright... sorry to have taken up your time." The police officer didn’t show any surprise or disappointment, but simply and skillfully helped close the door. "If you see her, make sure to report it immediately."
"I understand," I responded normally, then closed the door. Afterward, I began to eavesdrop on the sounds outside.
The sound of the officer's footsteps moved next door, followed by a knock. It seemed like he was going to continue questioning the neighbors for leads. He probably planned to visit each household one by one.
I think I’ve heard somewhere before that in modern times, over 90% of solved cases are actually resolved through this simple, unglamorous method of door-to-door visits and checking surveillance footage.
Just in case, I didn’t immediately return to the bedroom to talk to the girl. Instead, I grabbed my phone by the sofa and went back to the entryway, silently eavesdropping on the police officer’s movements outside while using my phone to search for recent serial killer cases in the city of Xianshui.
Sure enough, there were reports.
In the past two or three months, five horribly mutilated bodies had been discovered in the urban area of Xianshui City. All the victims were high-ranking officials or wealthy individuals.
This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.
Media coverage seemed to be somewhat controlled. The news articles I could find didn’t provide detailed accounts of their causes of death, nor were there photos or specific written descriptions of their "horribly mutilated" appearances. All I knew was that the authorities had collected fibers and skin tissue from under the victims' nails, which did not belong to them, suggesting that the victims had scratched the killer's clothing and body in their final moments. It was confirmed that the same person was responsible for all five murders.
The true identity of the killer remains unsolved, and the upper class is in a state of panic, fearing they might become the next victim.
I vaguely remembered this news. When I saw it last month, I even wondered if I should get involved and investigate, but since I was focused on researching other strange tales and urban legends at the time, I didn’t give this local, bizarre serial killer case much attention.
I thought it was just another case of a wealthy-hating, twisted serial killer, and that the all-powerful authorities would catch the culprit soon enough. But now, after so much time has passed, the case still hasn’t progressed at all.
Could that mysterious girl be the killer in this case?
Something doesn’t feel right. Assuming the victims died from gunshot wounds, it wouldn’t make sense for their deaths to be described as "horribly mutilated."
Of course, if all five bodies had their heads blown off by a handgun, that would be a different story. But in that case, would there really be time for the "victims to scratch the killer in their final moments," especially more than once? After all, considering the range of a handgun, it's not very realistic for the victims to have had close contact with the killer.
However... I shouldn't be so certain. Maybe the girl is a terrible shot and only managed to hit the victims when they were close enough to her. Or maybe she used hand-to-hand combat, just like how she used joint locks against me before.
Moreover, the police officer had indeed accused the girl of being the killer. Additionally, while the girl’s appearance resembled that of the victims, she herself hadn’t suffered any injuries.
If she truly is the murderer, then what I’m doing right now...
No, hold on, there are still too few clues. Jumping to conclusions at this point would be premature.
It’s better to just ask her directly and see how she reacts.
---
When the police officer finished his rounds on this floor, I turned and retrieved the handgun hidden behind the sofa. I disengaged the safety and then headed to the bedroom, pushing the door open.
The girl was sitting cross-legged on the bed, arms folded in a meditative pose, completely unconcerned about her half-naked appearance.
It seemed like she had been staying in the same spot, but I noticed subtle signs of things being disturbed around the room. It appeared that while I was talking to the police, she had quietly sneaked around the bedroom, trying to investigate and learn more about me.
Hearing the door open, she immediately lifted her head, first quickly scanning behind me, then looking at me with a confused expression.
"Why are you hiding me?" she asked, furrowing her brow deeply, her tone full of strong suspicion. "You heard it just now, right? I'm a ruthless serial killer. You're just an ordinary citizen, shouldn't you report me instead of hiding me?"
"Then, are you a murderer?" I asked her in return.
"I'm not," she firmly denied at first, then her expression faltered, and she seemed unsure of herself. "…Am I not?"
"Yes or no, I hope you can give a clear answer."
"Yes and no." This time, her wording was still vague, but her tone was more certain. "At least, I haven't killed anyone in this era."
"That's vague." I said, "Are you trying to say you're from the future?"
"Answer my original question first." Her tone became more forceful, trying to regain control of the conversation. "Why are you hiding me?"
I had no intention of arguing with her for control of the conversation. I had already prepared my response and answered smoothly: "Because you're not the killer."
"Why do you say that?" She asked, suspicious.
"The cause of death for those victims was not gunshot wounds." I tossed my phone, which was displaying a webpage, to her, then continued, "Besides, I don't think the killer in this case would end up like the victims, bleeding all over and lying in the ruins late at night."
This was a lie. Although I hadn't seen direct evidence proving she was the killer, I had already mentally prepared myself to accept she was the one, and to some extent, I had even prepared myself to deal with her in secret.
She persistently pressed on, "Even if you don't believe I'm the killer, there's no reason to hide me. Whether I'm the killer or not, the fact remains that I possess firearms and ammunition illegally in this era. Telling the police about me is what you should be doing."
"Didn't I tell you before? It was you who asked me not to call the police." As I spoke, I slowly walked over to the desk, placed the handgun on the surface, and then turned to face her. "I don't know what secrets you have, but since it involves firearms and ammunition, it means your secret is a matter of life and death."
"To me, you're just a girl, ragged and lying in the night. I want to step up and protect you. Is that really so strange?"
I don’t know if it was my carefully prepared "lines" that were too forceful, but she seemed startled, retreating to the corner of the bed with a flurry of movement. She swallowed and, wide-eyed, asked, "Just... just... because of that reason?"
At this point, I steeled myself and was determined to carry this act to the end.
"Isn't that enough?"
"How could this be? Could people from this era really...?" She unexpectedly wavered.
I had thought I would need to use more words, but it seemed like she believed me right away.
But what did she mean by this era and that era? Could she have a case of "chuunibyou" (delusions of grandeur)? Or was there something I couldn't even begin to imagine behind her actions?
Just as I was about to voice my confusion, she regained her composure before I could speak, stared at me for a while, then relaxed her defensive posture a bit and introduced herself. "My name is Ma Zao. What's your name?"
"I'm Zhuang Cheng." I replied.
Ma Zao seemed to have made some important decision in her mind.
She straightened her posture, sitting up properly on the bed, her hands resting on her knees.
"Alright, Zhuang Cheng... Next, I’m going to reveal my true identity and background. I know you probably won’t believe me, but I hope you’ll listen first."
Is she finally going to confess?
Isn’t it a bit too soon? Is she going to tell the truth, or is she going to weave a lie to deceive me?
Filled with anticipation, I nodded and gestured for her to continue. "Go ahead."
"As you said earlier, I don’t belong to this era. I’m someone who traveled from the future to the present." She began with a shocking statement. "And in the future, human civilization has been destroyed, and the world has entered an apocalyptic age."