I Am The Strongest Ghost Hunter

Chapter 18

The same giant hand from the entrance— The giant hand staggered up, five fingers splayed wide like a grotesque starfish. In the center of its palm, a massive eye blinked open—bloodshot, unblinking, scanning them with cold, predatory intelligence.

It lunged.

The three scattered in a frantic blur—Raito shoving Sakura sideways, Akito diving left. The hand crashed down where they’d stood, splintering floorboards into jagged spikes. It grazed Akito’s arm on the upswing—fabric ripping, skin splitting in a hot line. He hissed, stumbling, blood already welling.

Raito grabbed him under the armpit. “Move—MOVE!”

They bolted toward the only door still closed, dodging whipping tongues and staring eyes, the hand already rising behind them like a guillotine.

Raito kicked the door—hard. Wood exploded inward.

Stairs.

Upward.

No breath. No hesitation.

They pounded up the steps, lungs burning, feet slipping on warped boards. The stairwell twisted, walls closing in, then suddenly opened into—

A beautiful hall.

No wreckage. No broken windows. Polished wood floors gleaming under soft chandelier light. Elegant chairs arranged perfectly. Tasteful furniture. Faceless photo frames hanging on the walls—empty ovals where portraits should be.

They were back in the “real” world.

Or something pretending to be.

Behind them, the nightmare door they’d just come through. In front, another door. And between—another faint squared line glowing on the floor, just like the one outside.

Akito rushed to the nearest window, slamming his fist against the glass.

Nothing.

He tried again—harder. The glass didn’t even crack.

He yanked at the latch. It wouldn’t budge.

Through the window, Hank stood outside on the lawn—hands in pockets, smiling that small, sharp smile, and waved like he was greeting neighbors.

“Damn it,” Raito breathed, voice shaking. “He knew exactly what he was doing.”

Akito stared out at him. “This means there’s no way out unless we get to the rooftop.”

“That’s what it looks like,” Raito said, throat tight. “And what kind of ghost is this thing, anyway?”

“Hell if I know,” Akito muttered. “Is this even a ghost?”

Raito’s eyes flicked to the faceless frames. “Since obsession is what creates ghosts… what the hell could possibly be the obsession of something like this?”

No answer.

Just the distant creak of the house settling.

Akito exhaled hard. “We should just push forward. One floor down, four more to go. And hope we don’t die before we even get to the real exam.”

Sakura’s voice came out tiny, barely a whisper.

“If… if we’re going to die here… at least let me have your baby, Raito.”

Raito blinked. “You said something, Sakura?”

She turned scarlet, face hidden behind her hands. “Nn… nn… no.”

Her voice cracked on the lie.

Raito forced a shaky grin. “Well then… let’s go.”

They stepped across the line.

And toward the next door.

Once they crossed the second door, the wide hall swallowed them whole.

Everything flipped.

No more polished luxury. The walls were plastered with frames—some carved from yellowed bone, some edged in tarnished gold, others stretched taut with what looked like human skin, pale and veined. Inside each frame wasn’t paint.

They were alive.

Creatures—half-formed, grotesque—moved slowly behind the glass. Eyes blinked out of sync. Mouths twitched open and closed like dying fish. Limbs bent at impossible angles. Some stared straight ahead. Others slowly turned to watch them.

High on one wall, bold black letters were carved deep: THE GALLERY OF FAILED BEAUTY

Each creature was a failed attempt at perfection.

“Woah,” Raito gasped, voice cracking. “What in the world are these?”

Akito’s whisper came from behind him, low and sick. “This is seriously messed up. It looks like… art made from living things.”

Raito’s stomach lurched. “Let’s get out of here. Find the stairs. Get the hell out.”

And then—

“AAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!”

Sakura—up front—screamed, high and raw. She bolted backward, slamming into Raito’s chest, hiding behind him like he was a shield.

“I… it… it just touched me,” she whimpered, voice tiny and trembling.

Raito spun into protective mode, arms out wide. “What touched you?!”

Akito silently ducked behind him too, eyes huge.

“The frame…” Sakura managed. “A hand… they… they touched me…”

From the nearest frame, something slipped out.

A woman.

Beautiful. Sharp cheekbones, flawless skin, curves that looked sculpted. Clean. Perfect. She stood a couple of feet away, head tilted, smiling sweetly.

Raito and Akito froze, stunned by the sheer, impossible beauty.

Sakura peeked from behind Raito, trembling.

The woman held a pair of scissors in one delicate hand.

“What do you think, handsome?” she asked, voice soft and melodic. “Am I pretty?”

Raito stayed silent, throat locked.

But Akito… well, let’s just say his mouth got the best of him.

“Hell yeah,” he blurted. “You’re absolutely gorgeous. But… your eyes… why are they blinking at different speeds?”

Immediately, she turned her back to them.

“I knew it,” she whispered, voice cracking into a frantic murmur. “I knew it. I knew it. It’s all because of these eyes. They’re not good. They’re not pretty. They’re not perfect.”

She raised both hands to her face, fingers trembling like she was adjusting makeup in a mirror only she could see.

Then she lowered them.

Her fingers dripped red.

She turned slowly—steady, deliberate—facing them again.

“How about now?” she asked, voice shaking with desperate hope. “Am I pretty enough?”

They froze.

Her eyelids were gone—completely torn away. Eyeballs bulged raw and exposed, staring with manic intensity. One rolled fast and frantic. The other slow, deliberate. Like two separate creatures trapped in the same skull.

Sakura gagged. Turned. Threw up on Raito’s back.

The woman’s gaze snapped to her.

“It’s her,” she hissed, anger boiling over. “It’s because of her you don’t find me pretty.”

She charged—scissors raised high, aiming straight for Sakura’s eyes.

They ran.

She was too fast.

She caught up to Sakura at the back—just behind Raito—scissors flashing downward in a blur, aimed to gouge.

Raito acted without thinking.

He threw his hand up.

The scissors pierced straight through his palm—hot, searing pain exploding up his arm. The blade missed Sakura’s eye by less than an inch.

With everything he had, Raito swung his other fist—cracked it into the woman’s jaw.

She flew backward, crashing into the wall, cratering plaster.

Raito grabbed Sakura, yanking her forward.

They bolted away.

“No no no,” the woman cried out, voice cracking into a frantic wail. “They must see how pretty I am. They must know how beautiful I am!”

She staggered to her feet, blood streaking her perfect face, tears mixing with the red.

Then—behind her—two more creatures slipped from the frames.

One: a towering man, neck boneless, head dangling loose and swinging like a broken pendulum. Every step made his skull loll sickeningly.

The other: a childlike mannequin made entirely of glass—fragile, translucent, every movement cracking with sharp, brittle sounds. Tiny shards fell behind like tears.

They started walking—slow, relentless—toward the direction Raito and his team had fled.

The woman ran after them, scissors still clutched tight.

Raito, Akito, and Sakura burst into what looked like a safe place: a huge storeroom. Tall shelves lined the walls, stacked with boxes and forgotten items arranged in perfect rows. Dim light filtered through high windows, casting long shadows.

Raito slid down against a wall, clutching his pierced hand, blood seeping between his fingers.

Akito stood close to the door, breathing hard, listening for footsteps.

Sakura… faced the wall, sobbing quietly, shoulders shaking.

“How are we going to find the stairs with that thing crawling out there?” Raito asked, voice rough with pain.

Akito shook his head. “I don’t even know. I thought this whole thing was supposed to be training to prepare us for the exam. Never thought it’d be… this.”

“We’re on it already,” Raito said, forcing the words out. “We just have to find our way out now.”

“It’s all my fault,” Sakura whispered, voice tiny and broken. “If I wasn’t so slow… if I wasn’t so weak… he wouldn’t have tried to save me. Now he’s bleeding. And it’s all my fault.”

Raito looked at her back, soft despite the pain. “It’s okay, Sakura. I’ll be fine. I can take it. It’s nothing.”

But her tears didn’t stop. Face still pressed to the wall, body trembling.

And then…

Boom.

The door exploded inward—splinters flying like shrapnel.

The woman burst through, sending Akito flying back into a shelf with a crash of falling boxes.

She leaped onto Raito—legs crossing around his waist like iron bands, pinning him against the wall. Scissors raised high, glinting under the dim light.

She brought them down.

They pierced skin—hot, searing.

Then bone—crunching resistance.

Then finally… his heart.

Raito gasped, eyes wide, blood bubbling at his lips.