Chapter Thirty-Three: The Truth Behind the Suicide

But Hailar’s nightmare was far from over. The cloud of suicides soon spread over the entire town, and every day, more residents inexplicably chose to end their own lives. With the coming of night, Hailar would sink into a deep sleep, only waking again with the morning light. He tried every method to stay awake, yet nothing worked. Unable to participate in the nightly patrols, Hailar found himself trapped—until, one day, an unexpected turn presented itself.

As usual, Hailar was making his way home, lost in thought over his recent abnormal spells. He couldn’t explain what was happening to him, and with the current situation, he dared not take leave to visit a larger city for an examination. He had already consulted the local clinic, spending a considerable sum on a thorough checkup, only to be told he was in perfect health.

As he mulled over the files he’d handled that day, Hailar suddenly felt something strike him. He immediately looked around, seeing no one in sight. Glancing down, he discovered a USB drive at his feet, a slip of paper attached to it. After carefully checking the area, he found a simple trap; he had triggered a device that had suspended the USB drive from a tree, and the path was one he took home every day—a seldom-traveled route. Clearly, someone had been following him.

Wary, Hailar donned gloves and picked up the USB drive. He had no idea who was behind this, but he couldn’t afford to destroy what might be crucial evidence—possibly bearing the fingerprints of the instigator.

On the note affixed to the drive, bold words were scrawled: “Inside lies your secret. But don’t open it at home!”

Perplexed, Hailar frowned. He couldn’t imagine what secret of his might be inside, nor why he shouldn’t view it at home. Yet his curiosity was piqued. He altered his course, making his way to his parents’ house instead.

Though his parents owned a property in town, they were often away traveling. The house stood empty, making it a perfect place to test whether his observer was truly watching his every move. After all, there was a difference between his house and his parents’—if the observer truly tracked him so closely, his own home would be under surveillance, but was he always being watched?

With a strange sense of anticipation, Hailar powered up an old laptop. He had already disabled the Wi-Fi at his own house; this laptop was thus air-gapped, making it immune to even the most skilled hackers.

He plugged in the USB drive and opened the folder. There was only a single video file, labeled unmistakably with his own name. Heart pounding with unease, Hailar played the video. What he saw nearly caused him to drop the computer.

The footage stunned him. On the screen, he appeared, hooded in black, holding an object obscured by digital blur, his face blank as he stared at a man kneeling before him.

Hailar recognized the man: it was a resident who had died the previous night. Suppressing a surge of anxiety, Hailar continued watching, only to have his world shattered anew.

The hooded figure—himself—mouthed strange words, though the video had no audio. The kneeling resident, however, responded with frenzied devotion, bowing repeatedly before Hailar and accepting the blurred object with fervent reverence. Then, without hesitation, the man used it to slit his own throat.

After the suicide, the object was returned to Hailar. The corpse lay on the ground, a look of blissful serenity on its face.

The video continued, showing grainy surveillance footage near the scenes of several other residents’ deaths. A hooded figure—again, unmistakably Hailar—appeared each time.

But how could this be? Hailar thought. Every night, he slept soundly at home. Could he be suffering from some kind of dissociative disorder?

As he racked his brain, Hailar felt his eyelids growing heavy. Sleep was coming for him again—and now, after seeing this, he feared what his other “self” might do during these blackouts. He could not be sure the video was genuine, but his relentless sleepiness was undeniable.

In the last minutes before succumbing to sleep, Hailar forcibly yanked the USB drive from the laptop and tossed it under the bed—just in time, as his eyes closed and sleep overtook him.

An hour later, Hailar’s eyes snapped open. But this was not the same man. The “Hailar” who now looked around, realizing he was not in his own bedroom, wore no expression at all. He exited through the front door, instinctively making his way back home. Tonight was another night to offer a sacrifice to the mighty master.

When Hailar awoke the next day, his head was spinning. He scrambled to retrieve the USB drive from under the bed and resumed watching the unfinished video, hoping the creator had left some way to contact them.

Sure enough, at the end of the video, a document appeared, written by the creator:

“Dear Mr. Hailar, Based on my observations over this period, I suspect you are possessed by a demon. The strange object in your hand is the demon’s true form—it interferes with nearby electromagnetic fields, disabling surveillance equipment. Please be extremely careful with it. P.S.: If you wish to contact me, connect this USB drive to the internet. And finally, if you know how to reach Hogwarts, would you write me a recommendation letter?”

Hailar couldn’t help but laugh and cry at once. He could guess who the video’s creator was—a young town resident, skilled with computers and full of fantasies about magic and the like. As for Hogwarts, he had no way to help.

But the boy’s request was trivial. What mattered was the bizarre statue. After watching the videos and receiving the warning, Hailar finally awoke from his cognitive haze and remembered the mysterious statue—once the murder weapon, now in his own home.

Yet he had no solution. The strange statue could affect anyone who saw it. Now, Hailar dared not return home, but if this continued, his other personality—or the demon—would eventually force him back, and he would not escape death.

Desperate, Hailar pinned his hopes on his mother. As a prominent lawyer, she surely knew powerful people. If there were demons in this world, perhaps there were also organizations that fought them. Maybe, just maybe, those influential people knew the truth behind the world.