Mystery: Gray Walker

Chapter 3 The Uninvited Mysterious Visitor

Green moved silently to the door, gently placed his hand on the doorknob, and prepared to push it open—

"I have no hostility towards you."

A voice suddenly rang out from inside the door. It was a woman's voice.

The voice was pleasant to the ear, and had a unique, languid magnetism.

Has the other party spotted him?

Green didn't put away his gun; instead, he gripped it tighter, braced his shoulder against the door, and pushed it hard.

"Squeak—"

The door opened, revealing a dimly lit office with only the light from the gas streetlights outside the window barely outlining the furniture.

The armed assailant who was expected did not appear.

His gaze swept quickly across the room, finally settling on the old desk piled with clutter directly opposite the door.

In the very center of the table, a white figure sat gracefully.

That was a cat.

A pure white cat with a graceful figure. Its emerald green eyes, calm and even scrutinizing in the darkness, watched Green burst through the door.

This bizarre scene stunned Green.

Was that the cat talking? Was that the voice from just now?

He instinctively closed the door gently behind him, his other hand still gripping the gun, but not pointing it at the cat, because it was too absurd.

"It seems you're not used to receiving friendly advice."

The white cat spoke again, and it was the same pleasant female voice from before, with a hint of teasing.

"A talking...cat?" Green was still somewhat incredulous.

"As you can see," the white cat replied slowly, its tail swaying rhythmically.

First, there was that strange phone call, and now it's a talking cat, a female cat at that.

Green blinked hard to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

He kept his distance, moving slowly towards the gas light switch by the wall. His movements were slow, his eyes fixed on the strange white cat, wary of a sudden attack.

The white cat seemed to see through his intentions and did not stop him. It simply tilted its head slightly, its gaze following his movements.

The gaslight illuminated the room, clearly revealing everything inside.

It was injured.

Several thin, long bloodstains were visible on its snow-white fur. Its left front paw seemed to be curled up somewhat unnaturally, and there was a small tear on the tip of its ear.

The squatting posture appears elegant and composed, but its state speaks volumes; it seems to have just experienced a fierce struggle or chase.

A mysterious white cat that can talk and bears wounds appears at his office late at night.

The absurdity in Green's heart gradually gave way to horror, and he asked in a deep voice, "What are you? Why are you here?"

The white cat didn't answer his question directly. Its gaze swept across Green's face, seemingly assessing something, before inadvertently falling on the revolver Green was gripping tightly.

It started as a casual glance, but the next moment, its gaze froze.

The white cat stared intently at the gun, its body suddenly stiffening, even the tip of its tail ceasing its imperceptible sway.

"Praise beauties, goddess..."

Its voice trembled slightly, yet was filled with excitement and awe: "It did not perish along with the 'Records of Revelation'..."

The white cat's gaze gradually became somewhat obsessive, even bordering on devout fanaticism, fixed tightly on the revolver, as if admiring a long-lost sacred relic.

But the white cat quickly regained its elegant and languid demeanor. "Put it away. I'm not your enemy. It's hard to imagine that it still exists in this world."

Although Green didn't quite understand what the other person meant, it was clear that this gun was something special. He realized that he seemed to have unwittingly acquired a "trump card".

He slowly walked to the other side of the room, then plopped down on a slightly worn but still spacious sofa, leaning back and sinking into the soft cushions.

After adjusting to a comfortable position, Green finally lifted his eyelids and looked at the white cat that was still curled up on the desk.

What he needs to do now is be patient; whoever speaks first loses.

Silence pervaded the air.

The white cat's emerald eyes flickered, as if it could read Green's mind. It gently licked the wound on its front paw, finally breaking the silence.

"I need your help."

coming.

But... do I need my own help?

Green didn't understand what the other person meant and didn't respond immediately. Then, he slowly took out a crumpled cigarette pack from his pocket, opened it, took out a cigarette, and slowly lit it.

He took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled. Smoke rose between the man and the cat.

Why should I help you?

Showing off is an art. His attitude is clear: demonstrate your value, or give him a reason he can't refuse.

"Because you're being watched."

These words were like a pebble thrown into calm water; Green's hand, holding a cigarette, paused.

"Um?"

Am I being targeted? Because I'm too handsome? When?

Green paused for a moment, then gently flicked the ash into the old teacup beside him. "Continue."

"You shouldn't have answered that call. You've been marked by the Scarlet Cult."

"The Scarlet Cult? What's that?" Green frowned. "And all through just a phone call? That's ridiculous!"

"That wasn't an ordinary phone call," the white cat said calmly.

"He chose the moment when the red moon was at its peak and the tides of the spirit world were at their highest, when the secrets of the 'night' and the transitional authority of 'death' intertwined and manifested. Through a 'bloody feast' against his closest relatives, he constructed a ritual site and prayed for blessings from the source of the distortion."

"And you, a spiritually sensitive 'listener' who happened to intervene at... or rather, at the wrong time, responded at that moment."

"Your voice, your spiritual energy, has been woven into the ritual space through that 'thread,' becoming the final echo confirming the completion of the sacrifice's 'transition.'"

"Now, the ritual is complete, but the chain is not yet completely closed. All the echoes associated with the ritual, including the lingering fear of the sacrifices, and... you, the unexpected 'witness' and 'confirmer,' need to be dealt with in order for the ascendant's state to be completely stabilized, or... to be regarded as a complete offering by 'that being' whom he prayed to."

The more he listened, the more absurd it seemed. Green even wondered if he was just too tired and if the cat in front of him was a hallucination. He secretly pinched himself.

Ouch! This is fucking real!

But he just answered a seemingly urgent call for help, and then inexplicably became part of a cult ritual?!

This was more absurd than any story he had ever heard.

"The power of rituals is like a spider's web, marking all things that become associated with rituals at crucial moments. Insects, animals, and even people."

White Cat continued, his tone grave, "His wife, mother, 11-year-old son, 5-year-old daughter, the dog they've had for 6 years, and... unfortunately, you, who are on the phone."

Could you please stop using that analogy? It's very impolite, you know that?

Green took a deep drag of his cigarette. "What will happen then?"

He needs to know the worst possible outcome.

"He will find you by following the spiritual signs, like a hound sniffing blood. For that madman who is turning into a 'demon' and praying to 'that being' for blessings, the completion of the ritual is not the end. He must 'digest' this sacrifice."

Speak like a human.

The white cat looked at him and said something that sent chills down his spine: "He needs to eat you."

Green's heart sank.

He suddenly remembered the unsettling struggle and some kind of... sticky, chewing-like, swallowing sound that had been heard at the end of the phone call.

The woman who claimed her husband was missing... she wasn't simply murdered, but... eaten?

Could the same fate befall him? To be found by a madman who worships some kind of "Father God," and then become a dish on his table?

At this moment, he no longer felt absurdity, but a chill and nausea.

The half-smoked cigarette was stubbed out forcefully in the teacup. Green narrowed his eyes, staring at the white cat. "How can I believe you're telling the truth?"

"You can bet I'm lying."

"you--!"

Green took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to unleash a torrent of curses.

A brief silence fell over the office.

Leaning back in his chair, Green tapped his fingers lightly on the table. All the events of the evening flashed through his mind. Although some of the events were strange, they were not inexplicable.

The phone call might be a premeditated murder, and the missing police file might be the other party trying to fob him off...

Finally, his gaze returned to the white cat.

It's true that this cat can talk.

"Is there any way to remove this mark?" After a moment of silence, Green asked the most crucial question.