Chapter Twelve: A Guillotine Falls from the Car

“Oh no! I’m going to be late!” Qi Chen jerked upright in bed, his heart pounding as he stared at the antique clock hanging on the wall. On his very first date with his senior, it seemed he was about to make a mess of things.

But it was hard to blame him; after finally finding a safe place to stay, where he no longer had to sleep out on the cold streets, the comfort of a warm bed and the absence of an alarm clock had made waking up a real challenge. To make matters worse, he’d been plagued by a strange dream the night before—countless faces swirling around him, leaving him utterly bewildered.

Throwing back his covers and letting the chill air rouse him, Qi Chen grabbed the neatly folded clothes by his bedside and dashed out the door. He truly didn’t want a blemish like this on his career record.

“Damn it... My home’s in the city center, and the noodle shop we agreed on is way too far!” Sprinting wildly down the street, Qi Chen gasped for air, the pain in his chest flaring like fire—he hadn’t even had time for a sip of water.

A faint growl echoed in his mind, and suddenly a cold sensation, like a stream, flowed through his limbs. Exhausted as he was, strength surged back into his body, and even his spirits lifted. “King, you’re actually useful for once!”

A trace of delight crossed his face. Without realizing it, Qi Chen was running faster than ever, his sole focus now to reach the destination before their appointed time.

...

“Whoa, working up a sweat this early in the morning?” The Warm Guy sat at a small wooden table outside the noodle shop, grinning as he watched Qi Chen panting for breath.

“Order whatever you want. My treat.”

Still gasping, Qi Chen bent over, hands braced on his knees, trying to catch his breath. The King had powered his mad dash, but now that the effect wore off, exhaustion settled back into his body.

At least, it seemed his performance hadn’t disappointed his senior, who went by the codename Warm Guy—that was enough for now.

With a whoosh, Qi Chen plopped onto the little wooden stool, then immediately looked down, startled. Something felt off.

The stool looked like an ordinary wooden seat, but when he sat, it felt as soft as a plush sofa. Was he hallucinating from running so hard?

He glanced up and caught Warm Guy smirking. “What’s wrong? Too soft for you? Or do you prefer a firmer seat?”

“Did you do this, Senior?”

Warm Guy nodded, a cold aura suddenly emanating from him—not quite like the eerie presence from the building, but similar to what the King gave Qi Chen.

The source? Qi Chen looked behind Warm Guy and saw a translucent orange figure floating there.

“This is my uncanny. You can call him Hotheart,” Warm Guy introduced, his eyes gentle and his voice as warm as sunlight.

Unlike the King, who was all muscle and might, Warm Guy’s uncanny, Hotheart, was slender and wreathed in a soothing orange glow—nothing that would strike fear at first glance. But right at the center of Hotheart’s chest yawned a gaping hole, and inside, a vivid crimson object thumped powerfully and ceaselessly.

“Senior... My uncanny is called the King,” Qi Chen replied, frantically trying to summon his own uncanny by willpower alone. Since his senior had so readily summoned his own, how could he not try?

But the King seemed in no mood to cooperate, sending back only a series of yawns. Slightly embarrassed, Qi Chen looked away.

“In the early days, it’s normal to struggle using your uncanny’s power,” Warm Guy said kindly, slurping some soy milk before continuing, “Otherwise, why do you think the department paired you with an old hand like me?

“Most uncannies have their own will. In a sense, each one is an amplified emotion or hidden aspect of their uncanny walker’s psyche—some are more independent than others.

“From the looks of it, yours is pretty stubborn.”

Qi Chen nodded vigorously. Seeing Warm Guy summon Hotheart so easily, he realized just how unruly the King was.

Without comparison, he wouldn’t have known the sting of it.

Suddenly, a thunderous bang made Qi Chen’s ears ring. As he stood there dazed, Warm Guy shot to his feet.

“The sound came from over there! Must’ve been a car accident! Qi Chen, stay here and eat—I’ll go check and be right back.” True to his nickname, Warm Guy seemed to care deeply about everything. Without hesitation, he dashed off toward the source of the commotion.

The Department for Handling the Uncanny didn’t just deal with uncanny incidents—many members were ready to lend a hand whenever something happened on the streets. It was a unique trait of uncanny walkers in City Three, and Warm Guy was especially famous for it.

Watching him sprint away, Qi Chen couldn’t help but stand as well, his noodles untouched. Whether by reason or instinct, he didn’t want to just sit and wait—what if he could help?

He laid his last bit of cash on the table and hurried after Warm Guy.

Warm Guy had already reached the scene. As he’d guessed, it was a car accident: a van rear-ended a bigger vehicle, the van now lying sideways, but so far, no injured people had been found.

Yet, on this narrow street at the edge of City Three, something uncanny was unfolding.

From the epicenter of the crash, screams of terror rose from the crowd. Each bystander seemed to have an invisible rope tied around them, dragging them all toward a single point—right behind the van.

Through his eyes, Warm Guy could see what was pulling them: ghostly gray-white ropes, spun from uncanny power.

“An uncanny incident!” The veteran made a quick judgment, his face darkening as he traced the ropes back to their source.

His expression grew grim.

The ropes ensnaring the crowd all led to one thing—a rusted executioner’s guillotine.

...