I Am The Strongest Ghost Hunter

Chapter 6

He exhaled slow, shaky.

“But I figured something out. When I don’t look at them—when I straight-up act like they’re not there—they can’t see me either.”

His voice dropped lower.

“It’s not bravery. Not some power I control.” He shook his head hard. “It’s fear. Pure fear.”

Fists clenched tighter, nails biting skin.

“I pretend they don’t exist because I’m too damn scared to face them.”

He stared at his hands again, like they were the enemy.

“And the second I do that… they go blind to me too.”

Barely a whisper now.

“It’s like my awareness decides if they even know I’m real.”

Silence stretched.

Peace finally spoke, voice quieter, almost thoughtful. She turned away, boots echoing slow across the stone as she paced.

“No way to prove it for sure,” she said.

“But… I’ve got a theory.”

Raito’s head snapped up.

She didn’t look back yet, just kept pacing.

“Wild guess,” she went on, “but ghosts can possess people. Not forever—usually just a short ride. Especially when there’s a deep emotional tie.”

She stopped.

Turned slow, eyes locking on him.

“So there’s a chance… you’re not alone in there.”

The words hung.

Raito just stared, brain stalling.

“…What?” he whispered, small and lost.

Peace didn’t blink.

“Megumi saw the ghost first,” she said, steady. “That screams she was awakened.”

Raito tensed hard at the word.

“She couldn’t fight it off to save you,” Peace kept going, even, clinical. “Means she didn’t have a cursed weapon. If she did? She could’ve at least put up a real fight.”

Peace’s eyes sharpened—just a glint, like steel catching light.

“And when an awakened human without a cursed weapon dies…”

She paused. Not for effect. Out of respect.

“…they turn into a ghost.”

The massive hall suddenly felt cramped, walls closing in, air too thick to breathe.

Peace tilted her head, watching Raito like he was a puzzle finally clicking together.

“So let me ask you straight,” she said, voice softer now, almost careful. “After that night… have you ever seen Megumi’s ghost?”

Raito’s lips parted. Nothing came out.

He shook his head once—sharp. Then again, slower, like it hurt.

“No,” he rasped.

The word hung there, heavy and lonely.

Peace didn’t look away, reading every twitch on his face.

“And yet,” she went on, “ghosts swarm you like moths to a flame. They circle. They sense something—but they can’t lock on.”

Her gaze narrowed, pinning him.

“That’s a contradiction.”

Raito’s chest squeezed tight, dread crawling up his throat.

“…Are you saying,” he asked, slow, voice shaking, “that she never passed on?”

Peace didn’t rush the answer.

“There’s a chance,” she said, careful but unflinching, “that Megumi’s still with you. Inside you. Exactly.”

Raito froze solid.

Not fear this time—something deeper. Worse.

“…Inside me?” he whispered, barely air.

Hands trembling hard now.

“That’s… that’s not—” He swallowed, choking on it. “That’s not fair.”

Voice cracked wide open.

“She suffered. She died shielding me.” Breathing turned shallow, ragged. “She deserves peace… not to be trapped.”

The idea hit harder than any claw ever could.

Like losing her all over again.

Peace’s expression softened—just a crack in the armor, barely there.

“But if she’s inside you,” she said, voice quieter now, “that raises a bigger damn question.”

Raito looked up, weak, eyes red and raw.

“If a ghost is squatting in your body,” she went on, straight-faced, “by every rule we know… you should be dead. Cold. Gone.”

His eyes blew wide.

“And if that’s true,” she added, no mercy, “then where the hell is your own ghost?”

She locked eyes with him, unflinching.

“Have you ever seen your ghost since that night?”

Raito shook his head fast.

“No.”

Instant. No hesitation.

Peace went quiet, brows knitting slow, gears turning behind those sharp eyes.

“Two ghosts… one body?”

She exhaled, low and thoughtful.

“If that’s what’s going down,” she said finally, “then Megumi’s probably still shielding you—syncing your aura to whatever ghost is closest, masking you completely.”

Raito dropped his head, voice a broken murmur.

“So even now… she’s still protecting me…”

Hank frowned hard, arms crossed, clearly rattled.

“Come on,” he muttered. “You can’t be buying this theory hook, line, and sinker.”

“It’s speculation,” Peace shot back, calm as ever. “Nothing more.”

The hall fell silent again—heavy, loaded.

After a long beat,

Raito’s voice cracked through.

“So…” he said, grief twisting into something harder, “you mentioned a cursed weapon. If she’d had one…”

He couldn’t finish.

Peace did.

“Yeah,” she said, no sugarcoating. “Would’ve been brutal. It was a white-aura ghost.”

Straight facts.

“But if she’d been experienced enough… she might’ve walked away.”

Raito’s fists clenched tight, nails carving crescents into his palms. Something fierce sparked under all that pain.

“How do you get one?” he asked, quiet but burning. “A cursed weapon.”

Peace’s lips curved—small, knowing smile.

“To get how cursed weapons work,” she said, eyes locking on his like a challenge, “you first gotta understand…”

She leaned in just a fraction.

“…what ghosts really are.”