Dimensional Hotel-Chapter 207: Preparations for a Conversation with the Dead

In the depths of a long-abandoned underground tunnel, now sealed and forgotten, the silhouette of the Black Forest—a sight that belonged only in nightmares—danced unnaturally across the wall. The moment it appeared, Yu Sheng knew that his Spiritual Intuition had not been mistaken.

Moments later, he arrived at the location described by Little Red Riding Hood, accompanied by Irene and Foxy.

The tunnel lay beneath the Welfare Home, slightly west of its central axis, directly under the outdoor activity zone. It had been unused for years, and the scent of mold clung thickly to the air. The ceiling lights were faint, their glow choked by a chaotic network of overhead pipes that cast uneven shadows below. The walls were mottled, filthy, with large patches of peeling paint—and in several places, scattered graffiti spoke of the mischief of Cursed Children who had once snuck down here seeking “adventure.”

By the time the group arrived, the eerie tree shadows were gone.

“The photo was taken here,” said Little Red Riding Hood, pointing to a wall on the left. “The lights dimmed suddenly, like a Black Forest twilight. I had a bad feeling and instinctively opened my phone camera. I caught the shadow of a tree—just for a few seconds—before it vanished.”

Yu Sheng frowned, examining the wall closely. Then he looked up at the lights nestled between drainpipes and at the spiderwebs hanging in the ceiling corners.

“What’s above this spot?” he asked casually.

“One corner of the outdoor activity zone,” Little Red Riding Hood replied, nodding. “According to the original renovation blueprints, this used to be part of the courtyard. We haven’t found concrete ‘traces’ yet, but based on what we’ve observed, this might be the very place where the Squirrel saw that glowing object fall.”

Yu Sheng grunted softly, eyes now scanning the ground at his feet.

“…You’re not seriously thinking of digging, are you?” Irene immediately caught the look in his eye. “Let me warn you, this isn’t a joke. You dig here and you’ll bring the whole building down before you summon any Evil Spirits. The Council’s Housing and Safety Department responds faster than a vengeful ghost.”

“I know, I know,” Yu Sheng waved her off. “I’m not that clueless.”

He paused, then added thoughtfully, “Besides, even if the foundation weren’t a problem, digging would probably be pointless… According to Squirrel, that thing ‘merged’ with the earth on impact. So the Anka Aila Vessel may not have left behind an Entity at all—maybe it fell into another dimension. Digging wouldn’t uncover anything.”

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“Then what was it I captured on camera?” Little Red Riding Hood’s brow furrowed. “It only lasted a few seconds, but… it left me deeply unsettled.”

Yu Sheng didn’t reply at once. He stared off for a while before murmuring aloud, “Some kind of… ‘leakage’?”

“Sounds bad just hearing it,” Irene muttered.

Little Red Riding Hood went quiet, then looked down at the Tabby Cat grooming itself diligently. “King, keep an eye on this tunnel for the next while. If possible, post an Adventurers squad here—not the group with the warrior-mage-priest trio. I want the team with three assassins.”

The Tabby Cat sighed dramatically, a deep, magnetic voice purring, “Ah… life is so cruel for a poor little Cat like me…”

“I’ll buy you Cat sticks.”

“Deal.”

Yu Sheng raised an eyebrow at the odd exchange, gaining new insight into how members of the Fairy Tale Organization interacted. He was just about to ask how KingCatCat handled out-of-base missions or coordinated payment negotiations with outsiders—when his phone rang, interrupting his thoughts.

He glanced at the caller ID.

Song Cheng.

“Let me take this,” he said, stepping aside. “Hello? Yeah, it’s Yu Sheng… What?!”

Every ear in the tunnel perked up at once—Foxy’s ears shot up the highest.

After a moment, Yu Sheng hung up and turned to the group, his expression strange as he looked at the eavesdroppers.

“I have to head to the Special Affairs Bureau. Irene, Foxy, you’re coming too.”

Little Red Riding Hood instinctively stepped forward. “What happened?”

“They found the companions of those two Angel Cultists—but when they got there, they were already dead.”

Soon after, Yu Sheng led the Fox Girl and little doll to Song Cheng’s office.

By now, Song Cheng was used to Yu Sheng’s “appear immediately after phone call” routine. He barely looked up as the trio from the Hotel were guided in by staff. Calmly setting aside the document in front of him, he stood and said, “Come with me. I’ll take you straight to the bodies of the Angel Cultists. I’ll fill you in on the details on the way.”

Yu Sheng trailed behind Song Cheng with two followers in tow, once again weaving through the labyrinthine corridors of the Special Affairs Bureau Headquarters Building. He jotted down coordinates as they walked, all the while listening to Song Cheng’s calm explanation of current affairs.

“After you finished ‘interrogating’ that Servant of the Angel last time,” Song Cheng began, “we arranged a follow-up ambush interrogation by professionals. This time, we employed stronger Mind Control and Hypnosis techniques—finally pried open the bastard’s mouth…”

“We unearthed a few clues from his subconscious, and at last uncovered a hideout of the Angel Cultists—specifically, those of the ‘Anka Aila’ faction. They were hiding near an old industrial district, right under the Council’s nose.”

“The operation began this morning. The intel was dead-on. The location was exact. Everything went according to plan… except that all those Heretic Cultists were already dead.”

At that, Song Cheng stopped in front of a white Door. He raised a hand, gesturing for Yu Sheng to enter with him.

Beyond the Door lay a morgue. Aside from the surveillance devices mounted on the ceiling and the strange glyphs embedded in the walls, it looked no different from a typical morgue.

Of course, most morgues weren’t flanked by heavily armed Special Affairs Bureau Operatives standing guard at every angle.

Yu Sheng stepped in, curious, then glanced back at the Door. A sheet of paper was taped beside it, listing common morgue guidelines: Avoid physical conflict with the deceased. Do not allow corpses to leave the room without authorization.

All standard fare in the Special Affairs Bureau. Yu Sheng no longer batted an eye at such warnings—after all, in this place, lingering in the restroom for over thirty minutes could get you hauled out by a squad of armed guards.

The Angel Cultists retrieved during the raid now lay silently on several tables in the center of the room—six corpses in all, arranged with military precision.

“No visible wounds,” Song Cheng continued. “Initial scans show no internal injuries or traces of poison. They collapsed in a circle formation in the living room, surrounding a Spirit Summoning Technique ritual drawn on the floor meant to commune with ‘Anka Aila.’ It was clearly a Sacrifice Activity, and the offerings were themselves. No physical trauma—just willingly surrendered their lives to their ‘Master.’”

Yu Sheng stared at the pale bodies and muttered, “…Self Sacrifice, huh. That definitely fits the Heretic Cultist vibe.”

But Song Cheng shook his head. “Actually, no. Quite the opposite. Among all the Angel Cultists we’ve encountered, Self Sacrifice is rare. They usually prefer sacrificing others, not themselves.”

Yu Sheng blinked. “Is that so?”

“They genuinely have a ‘Master,’” Song Cheng explained, “and this Master directly affects their ability to reason. Most Angel Cultists operate with a specific ‘goal’—even if that goal is driven by madness. They rarely give up their lives without purpose. Unless…”

“Unless?” Yu Sheng asked, eyebrows drawing close.

“Unless they believe their Master requires their death—urgently.”

Song Cheng’s voice dipped into a grim cadence. Yu Sheng’s brow furrowed as he slowly swept his gaze across the six lifeless forms, then inhaled deeply.

“I need to have a ‘conversation’ with them,” he said quietly.

Song Cheng understood immediately. Yu Sheng’s Conversation With The Dead ability was well-known within the Bureau. Without hesitation, Song Cheng waved off the guards stationed at the morgue’s entrance, ordering them to clear the room. He turned back to Yu Sheng with grave sincerity.

“What do you need for the ritual? The Special Affairs Bureau can provide anything—just name it. If you can make these Heretic Cultists speak from beyond, we’ll make it happen.”

Yu Sheng was about to brush it off—his Conversation With The Dead was mostly instinctual and didn’t need props. But then, from the corner of his eye, he spotted Irene… and a spark of cunning lit in his mind.

“Alright. Take notes.”

Song Cheng pulled out his phone and opened a notepad.

“I’ll need Rose Essential Oil—the large ritual-grade bottle. Four pounds of Medicinal Tea Powder for Spirit Summoning and Alchemy. Purified incense. Lots of Crystal Dust… and Ritual Candles—six bundles for six corpses.”

He glanced at Foxy, then continued, “Also, two roasted chickens, eight grilled sausages, twenty lamb skewers, twenty chicken skewers, thirty skewers of crispy chicken skin, and two bags of Steamed Bread.”

Foxy raised her hand eagerly. “A—and twenty Grilled Mushrooms!”

Yu Sheng nodded solemnly. “Yes, twenty Grilled Mushrooms as well.”

Song Cheng looked up from his notes, expression unreadable. “…No drinks?”

“No alcohol during rituals,” Yu Sheng said, waving a hand like a serene Eminent One. “But a few cans of cola would be nice.”

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation