Tokyo: Rabbit Officer and Her Evil Partner-Chapter 339 - 260: Ghost Catching People

Time rewinds to half an hour ago.

Fushimi Roku smashed all the chairs in the room, transmitting Morse code to the other participants, then climbed onto the wooden table and tore down the chandelier, plunging the room into darkness.

He held two chair legs with his mouth, jumped up, reached out his right hand according to memory, inserted a single finger into the hole where the chandelier hung, suspending his body in mid-air.

The radio was announcing the pairing results, but Fushimi Roku didn’t care; he had already unlocked the headgear and was temporarily out of life-threatening danger.

From the beginning, he had discerned everyone’s identity through the tags above the participants’ heads.

Among them, Miss Rabbit’s vice was "foolish belief." He guessed seven or eight parts, estimating this individual was a believer of the Aum Truth Sect, disguised as Minamoto Tamako just to disgust him, eventually forcing a life-and-death decision or something.

Fushimi Roku could even guess that Minamoto Tamako might be in another room, similarly portrayed by a male believer... looks like the designer really likes to hit people’s weaknesses!

He did a one-arm pull-up, bending his body slightly, and rubbed his right hand on the ceiling, finding the wall’s crevice, gently lifted upwards, and with a click, the trigger lock opened.

Fushimi Roku pushed up the iron plate, revealing a pitch-black interior.

While picking the lock, he noticed there was a clasp on the chandelier, probably an emergency repair passage for maintaining the chandelier and cameras—these days, wireless technology isn’t that advanced; surveillance is mostly wired, and if far enough, lines must be laid and a repair passage left.

Water pipes or circuits can be buried in cement, but surveillance lines aren’t the same; they have a high failure rate and require regular maintenance.

But as a precaution, Fushimi Roku didn’t rashly stick his head in; he removed the wooden stick from his mouth and inserted it into the ceiling hole, wiggling it around to ensure there was no cash, then carefully stuck his head in cautiously.

He’s often seen similar scenes in horror films, where a character crawling through a duct or entering a ceiling meets a surprise attack that either chops their head off or leaves them stuck and immobile... given his impressions of this trial, such an event seemed very plausible.

Fortunately, there was nothing unusual above; he looked around, the automatic sensor lights lit up, inside was a narrow stainless-steel pipe barely enough for an adult to crawl through.

Fushimi Roku held onto the passage’s edge and crawled inside; he intended to take this risky move.

Meanwhile, the broadcast finished, the wall door slowly opened, and a participant in another room received his signal and successfully survived.

He knew the survivor was likely Minamoto Tamako, but he had no intention of recognizing them.

Fushimi Roku thought clearly: only if Minamoto Tamako died would it be possible to save Minamoto Tamako. Otherwise, the opponent would keep holding his weakness, making him subject to manipulation, eventually leading to a mutual demise scenario.

Rather than painstakingly protecting Minamoto Tamako, it was better to kill all those organizers.

This was his plan.

After Fushimi Roku crawled into the passage, the baffle latch automatically closed, but he swiftly wedged it open with a wooden stick, leaving a gap while crawling deeper into the duct.

Every time he crawled a distance, an automatic sensor light would illuminate. He looked back to see the lights going out behind him, unable to see the path he came from, and when looking ahead, it was still pitch-black, unknown where it led.

Fushimi Roku estimated, in 1991, Japan’s surveillance camera wiring was predominantly coaxial cables, generally transmitting 50-100 meters, extensions reaching 200 meters relying on amplifiers, but image quality couldn’t be guaranteed... which meant that roughly every hundred meters, he could find an exit.

Setting his target, he tapped the wooden stick for probing; elbows in front alternated with legs as he crawled rapidly through the duct.

About ten minutes later, Fushimi Roku saw a fluorescent indicator light, a green arrow pointing downwards in the duct. He crawled closer, using the sensor light’s illumination, found the latch, lightly pulled it, and the downward iron panel door opened.

He lay flat in the duct, looking down at a relay station below, cabinets full of cables, and repeaters flashing red indicators, several staff frantically operating by the controller; a white-robed Master stood behind them, urging:

"What’s going on? Why’s the signal suddenly gone?"

"People outside are waiting!"

"And room 9, where did that participant go?"

Staff were distressed; they’re not engineering grads, didn’t understand electronics, only followed the manual’s instructions with no machine reaction, unable to contact the designer at this crucial time...

Seven designers collectively went missing.

The Master kept pushing from behind, claiming if they couldn’t fix it, he’d send them to the labor area to lay bricks. Heads spinning, they exchanged glances, one staff took a deep breath, turning forcibly to explain, only to see a man hanging upside down behind the Master, shocking him.

The man secured his legs on the ceiling repair passage, hands slowly reaching towards the Master’s head.

"What’re you staring at?! Fix it! Losing a minute—do you know how much money the Church would lose because of room 9’s participant, tonight’s dark horse?!"

The Master’s spit flew, skin flushed, oily visceral fat jiggled on his slick face—his anger evident.

Just then, the staff acted dumb, raising a finger, daring to point at his nose, the Master prepared to reprimand, when someone suddenly patted his shoulder.

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