I Am The Strongest Ghost Hunter

Chapter 24

They searched the whole rooms, but couldn’t find Sakura until they reached an open door. Still searching for her, Akito stepped inside just to check if she was hiding there.

The moment he did—he disappeared.

Gone. Like he’d stepped through a curtain of nothing.

Raito lunged forward instinctively, hand outstretched—but stopped himself cold.

He knew.

Akito was out. Back in the real world. Safe.

If Raito followed now, he might not be able to come back. And Sakura might still be trapped here—alone, in danger.

He couldn’t leave her.

So he stayed.

Raito did a thorough search of the hospital—revisiting every room, checking lockers, under beds, behind curtains, anywhere she could possibly hide. His footsteps echoed in the empty corridors, the only sound besides his own breathing.

Still nothing.

Until…

A faint, moaning sob drifted from somewhere ahead.

He traced it—slow, careful—down a dim hallway to a mechanical room. The door was cracked open, faint light spilling out.

There she was.

Sakura—sitting alone in the dark, rocking back and forth on the cold floor, head bowed, tears dripping steadily.

“No, no, no, no,” she mumbled to herself. “It’s not him.”

Raito’s chest tightened.

“Oh, there you are,” he said softly, forcing a smile.

Sakura froze.

“Raito… is it truly him…?” she whispered, voice shaking. “No… no… no, I must be imagining things.”

She kept rocking, faster now.

Raito stepped closer—slow, careful.

“No, you’re not imagining things, Sakura. It’s me, okay.”

He crouched down, offered his hand.

Slowly—painfully slowly—she raised her head.

Saw him.

Her eyes widened.

She lifted her arm—hesitant, trembling—expecting rejection.

But she reached anyway.

Touched his hand.

No shock.

No pull away.

She stared at their joined fingers—like she couldn’t believe it.

Then she accepted his hand fully.

Raito pulled her up gently.

The second she was on her feet—she threw her arms around him.

Hugged him tight.

So tight he couldn’t breathe.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against his chest. “I didn’t mean to touch your cock inappropriately. I… I… I was just… I’m sorry.”

Raito’s brain short-circuited for half a second.

‘My cock…?’

He blinked it off.

“No, it’s okay, Sakura,” he said gently. “I don’t need to know that, okay? I’m just glad you’re okay.”

A voice—only he could hear—cut in, sharp and jealous.

“Push her away. The hugging is long enough.”

Raito sighed softly.

“It’s okay, Megumi,” he murmured aloud. “She’s not a threat.”

Sakura loosened her grip just enough to look up at him.

“Yeah, I’m not a threat,” she echoed sweetly. “My name is not Megumi, but it’s okay.”

She hugged him tighter again.

The voice in his head snarled.

“This bitch… I’m going to blast her away.”

“No, please, Meg,” Raito said quietly.

Sakura pulled back slightly—eyes searching his face.

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Uh… nothing,” he said sheepishly. “Let’s go meet Akito.”

He grabbed her hand—gently—and dragged her along beside him.

“He must be in the real world by now.”

After a while, Raito and Sakura reached the door Akito had just disappeared through. The moment they crossed it… the other side wasn’t the real world.

It was floor four.

And it was very different from every floor they’d crossed before.

The hall stretched out like a circus mirror house gone wrong—giant mirrors everywhere, arranged in a twisting maze pattern. Reflections stretched, warped, multiplied. Some made them look tall and thin, others squashed and wide. The air felt thick, like it was watching them back.

High on one wall, bold black letters:

REACH THE END TO PROCEED

“Wow,” Raito gasped. “This is amazing.”

Sakura peeked from behind him, eyes wide.

“It looks like a clown house,” she whispered, then jumped closer, clinging to his back. “I’m scared of clowns.”

Raito laughed—soft, trying to lighten the mood.

“This isn’t a clown house. It’s actually called a fun house. More like a maze—but difficult because we can’t easily tell solid barriers from open paths. Mirrors create the illusion of endless hallways. But don’t worry.”

He grinned.

“With my great skill, I’m going to get us out of here.”

Sakura tilted her head.

“Your great skill?”

“Yup. We just have to stretch our hands out, feel the walls, and follow the direction like we’re blind.”

He took a deep breath.

“Now… let the mission begin. Akito must’ve reached the top floor by now. He’s probably waiting for us.”

He stepped forward—first toward one mirror, then closer. Sakura followed, still clinging.

Something shifted behind them.

They didn’t hear it.

In the closest mirrors, their reflections were clear—too clear.

Behind them—barely visible—a figure staggered up. Human-shaped. Hand stretched out. Reaching.

Raito stretched his arm toward the mirror—fingers inches away.

His reflection grinned—wide, sharp—even though he wasn’t smiling.

Raito missed it.

The figure behind them yelled—“No, don’t touch the—”

Too late.

Raito’s fingers brushed the glass.

He paused.

Both he and Sakura—still clinging to him—slowly turned their heads, as if forced.

Behind them stood Akito.

Bruised. Battered. Eyes empty.

Then—boom.

Raito’s reflection punched forward—fist surging with electric blue energy—cracked into real Raito’s chest.

The impact sent him crashing backward into Sakura—who was still on his back.

They both slammed into Akito—who was already bloody and beaten.

All three crashed into a wall—hard.

“Ouch,” Raito groaned, rubbing his head. “Akito? What are you doing here?”

Akito stared—eyes hollow.

“Don’t you see? I can’t get past it. It’s impossible to get through without touching the mirrors. And touching the mirrors… attacks us.”

He looked around—trapped.

“We’re stuck here.”

Sakura’s voice trembled.

“No… no… no… there must be a way.”

Raito pushed himself up.

“So you mean touching the mirrors makes it attack, huh… then let’s pass it without touching the mirrors.”

Akito blinked.

“And how are we even supposed to do that?”

Raito grinned—sharp, determined.

“Don’t worry. Follow my lead.”

He started walking toward what looked like an opening—no reflection, just empty space.

Akito and Sakura exchanged a glance.

They knew better than to follow him on this one.

Raito kept walking down the path—slow, confident, arms out like he was feeling the air.

For a few seconds, Akito actually thought it might work. Maybe this really was a way through. Maybe the mirrors were bluffing.

Then—

THUNK.

Raito’s forehead slammed hard into an invisible barrier.

The impact rang out sharp—echoing like a bell in the maze.

His reflection slid in from the other side of the mirror—grinning wide, unnatural, teeth too sharp.

It pulled its head back—slow, deliberate—like a batter winding up for the greatest headbutt ever.

Raito’s eyes widened. He tried to yank his head away.

The mirror wouldn’t let go.

It held him—suction-like, magnetic—stuck fast.

Then the reflection’s head cracked down.

BOOM.

The collision was brutal—skull to skull through glass that didn’t shatter. The force launched Raito backward like a ragdoll.

Akito and Sakura jumped aside—clearing a path just in time.

He crashed hard—sliding across the floor, dust kicking up.

Raito groaned, pushed himself up, wiped blood from his nose.

He stared at the mirror.

Picked up a pebble from the floor.

Tossed it—hard.

It smacked the glass.

No crack. No sound. Just bounced off.

Then his reflection bent down—mimicked the exact motion—picked up an invisible pebble.

Swung.

The pebble struck Raito’s forehead—sharp sting, fresh blood trickling.

Behind the reflection, Akito’s and Sakura’s mirror versions burst into silent, mocking laughter—even though the real Akito and Sakura were nowhere near the mirror.