The Dreaming Nun seemed to realize the danger. She immediately started running, but as she fled, the path behind her began collapsing. The skeletons lining the road appeared to come alive, their jaws gaping in eerie laughter. The disintegration of the path accelerated, chasing closely at her heels—as if at any moment, both the road and the Dreaming Nun would plunge into the abyss.
Fortunately, the Dreaming Nun was trained in martial arts. At the critical moment, she quickened her pace and leaped through the air, barely clearing the exit just as the passage sealed shut completely.
The terrifying part? She didn't land safely with us—instead, she barely caught the cliff's edge, then immediately began to slip.
In a flash, I dove forward and grabbed her ankles while Stein seized me. The three of us skidded perilously before stabilizing, though Stein's limited strength meant we dangled precariously.
"Stein, pull us up!" I shouted.
Gritting his teeth, Stein strained with all his might—but we didn't budge an inch. His efforts seemed futile.
"No way... I can't lift you both," he admitted, his voice strained. Given his small frame, keeping us from falling was impressive enough; hauling us up was beyond him.
At this rate, not only would the Dreaming Nun fall—I'd go down with her, as most of my body already hung over the cliff's edge.
Just as despair set in, the Dreaming Nun suddenly slapped the cliffside, kicked off repeatedly, and—within seconds—leveraged herself upward with sheer strength.
"Incredible kung fu!" I nearly cheered, forgetting our peril.
Once up, she immediately hauled me to safety, and we all scrambled back onto solid ground.
With the female ghost laid to rest and the danger passed, it was time to return to the nunnery. I felt a twinge of concern for Antonio.
But my worry proved unnecessary. Antonio was unharmed—in fact, the nuns were the ones sprawled unconscious. He hadn't attacked them; somehow, in mere moments, their eyes had rolled back, and they'd collapsed. The black combs on their bodies had melted into ink and vanished.
This was surely the female ghost's influence dissipating. The evil possessing the nuns had disappeared, leaving them briefly unconscious but otherwise unharmed.
Over the following days, we remained at the nunnery. The nuns gradually returned to normal—each gentle and kind, with no memory of their possession. We shared only partial truths with them, omitting the killings and... ahem... encounters with men. After all, they were nuns; they'd likely never notice their "daisies" were missing.
As for the killings, there was even less to say - telling them would only burden them with lifelong guilt. It wasn't their fault; they shouldn't have to carry that pain. Naturally, I didn't report it either. The true murderer had been an evil spirit, completely unrelated to the nuns.
The nunnery reopened its doors. The two Buddha statues outside were returned to their places, and the incense burners now overflowed with offerings. However, Dreaming Nun soon departed without farewell.
Having already returned to secular life, she couldn't rightfully remain as a nun. Moreover, if the Arturo family discovered she still lived, they would certainly seek revenge. Not wanting to implicate the nunnery, she left quietly without disclosing her destination.
Before my departure, Dreaming Nun presented me with a comb - but assured me it was harmless, belonging to a living person. It was the very comb her Elder Sister had given her.
She asked me to deliver it to Webster. Since he had been the one to find us for this task, and she had no other gift of thanks, this comb would serve as Webster's memento. "Who knows if I'll ever see that big brother again," she added.
After handing us the comb, Dreaming Nun vanished the next day without revealing her plans.
Stein grew sullen, complaining: "Even though Webster brought us here, we did all the work! Why does he get a thank-you gift and not us? Look at our injuries!" Indeed, Antonio bore numerous small wounds, Stein had nearly been killed by a blood-covered zombie's bite, and while I fared better, we'd all suffered.
"Not to mention," Stein continued, "we still need payment for these Gods and Ghosts Tattoos, right?"
I told him to forget it - consider this our good deed for the year. How could we quibble with a nun over compensation?
After Dreaming Nun's departure, we felt uncomfortable overstaying. Three grown men couldn't reasonably remain in a nunnery indefinitely. After paying our respects to Buddha, we bid farewell and descended the mountain.
Returning to the tattoo parlor left Stein and Antonio utterly exhausted. They collapsed onto their beds and slept through the entire day. My minor injuries healed quickly, and after half a day's rest, I ventured out alone to find Webster.
With the matter successfully resolved, it was time to collect answers to those three questions he owed me.
Arriving at the footbridge shack, I found it empty. Assuming he'd gone to tell fortunes, I climbed up to the bridge itself. Sure enough, there sat Webster behind his Eight Trigrams table, opposite a pale-faced youth with piercings and dyed YELLOW HAIR. The young man sat shaking his crossed legs while regarding Webster with skeptical fascination as Webster examined his palm.
As the saying goes: "A shaking leg reveals a poor man; a shaking woman reveals loose morals." Though no fortune-teller myself, YELLOW HAIR's incessant leg shaking told me one thing for certain - this fellow was definitely broke.
"Master, you've been reading [my palm] for half a day—when will I get rich?" YELLOW HAIR asked impatiently.
Webster told him to relax, then asked, "You're twenty years old this year, aren't you?"
YELLOW HAIR jolted in surprise. "Damn, Master! I haven't said a word yet—how'd you know I'm twenty?"
With a dismissive wave, Webster replied, "Child's play. If I couldn't even deduce that, what kind of fortune-teller would I be?"
But then Webster's brow furrowed. "This palm... you're born with a poor man's fate. Relying on yourself to get rich? Impossible."
YELLOW HAIR visibly tensed, even gripping the stall's edge as if to flip it—until Webster added:
"However... while you can't get rich on your own, you can ride someone else's coattails. And the opportunity is right before you."
"Met any older women recently?" Webster inquired.
YELLOW HAIR nodded. "Yeah, gaming buddy. This cougar often gifts me skins, so I humor her. We've chatted online a bunch—but never met in person."
"Exactly her," Webster confirmed. "She's a wealthy widow approaching her sixtieth birthday. Cling to her now, and you'll live comfortably forever. On that birthday? She'll gift you a Lamborghini."
"This is your only shot at wealth. Miss it, and you'll die poor."
YELLOW HAIR leapt up, seizing Webster's hands. "MASTER! Thank you! I'm going for it—this soft rice? I'm eating it! Not even Jesus could stop me!"