I Became A Ghost In A Horror Game-Chapter 75: Pinocchio

"Nice to see you, Pinocchio. I didn’t expect to run into you here."

This was the third time I had encountered one of the Story’s Demons.

I greeted Pinocchio, the mysterious wooden merchant.

Pinocchio stared at me with his lifeless artificial eyes before finally speaking.

"Didn’t expect to see me here, huh?

That’s quite the thing to say after burning my puppet.

But since my wooden doll was the one at fault, I’ll let it slide."

Technically, it was self-defense, and if we were being precise, Pinocchio should be the one apologizing. But I wasn’t in the mood to argue over minor details.

Pinocchio stepped down from the pile of mechanical scraps and stood before me.

"I have a lot of questions, Pinocchio. First off, how do you know my name?"

Pinocchio answered easily.

After all, if he refused, it would only mean he had been digging into my past intentionally.

"Extracting information from the Organization is no easy feat... but you’re quite famous. Rumors travel fast.

That’s how I learned your name.

I must say, though, I didn’t expect it to be a horror game."

Ah, this again.

It seemed my association with a horror game was affecting people’s first impressions.

It was frustrating, but there was nothing I could do about it except awkwardly scratch my cheek.

"I see... Well, Ariel’s been trying to recruit you into the Fairy Tail Tea Party. Are you interested?"

I deliberately started with something casual since I didn’t want to bring up the most important topic just yet.

Ariel wanted to gather the Story’s Demons.

Because she was searching for Mephistopheles.

And Pinocchio... he was also searching for the person who turned him into a wooden puppet.

Wouldn’t it make sense for him to join?

"No. Trusting a woman who keeps her true intentions hidden isn’t wise. And I have no desire to be part of any group."

So, he wasn’t interested after all.

And judging from his response, he had already met Ariel and turned her down.

I nodded in understanding.

"Now, it’s my turn to ask. That item you’re carrying—can I take a look?"

"Huh?"

He was referring to P-122, the heart-shaped mechanical device.

James had given it to me—though it was probably Carol who wanted it delivered.

It was an anomalous artifact.

I handed it over to Pinocchio.

"Hmm... I thought it was just a mechanical device, but it’s only shaped like one.

Its anomalous abilities... a perception-dampening effect that depends on the emotional distance between individuals.

And it vaguely detects the emotions and locations of people it’s linked to.

Not particularly useful."

Pinocchio shook his head, clearly unimpressed.

It wasn’t what he had been hoping for.

Without bothering to activate P-122, he handed it back to me.

"What are you doing here, Pinocchio?"

"Living machines.

I’ve seen them occasionally in the past, but their numbers have grown suspiciously large.

Too many can be a problem, so I’m taking care of them with my puppets.

And while I’m at it, I’m collecting useful parts."

Good.

That meant he was at odds with the Dominator.

I might be able to secure his cooperation.

"You seem to know about the living machines. Have you ever encountered the so-called Machine God before?"

"The so-called Machine God, huh... I think I know the one you mean.

Have you met it?"

"Yeah, I did. And I pissed it off. I destroyed its stage and blew up a factory."

I could almost hear the gears in Pinocchio’s head turning rapidly.

He clicked his wooden tongue and looked at me.

"Hooh... You destroyed its stage?

That’s quite troublesome.

In that case, don’t you have a favor to ask of me?"

"That’s right, Pinocchio. I do have something I need from you."

"I don’t grant favors for free.

Unless, of course, the request benefits me as well."

He already knew what I was going to ask.

So why was he playing coy?

"I want to take down the Machine God.

Can I count on your help?"

Pinocchio nodded.

His wooden joints creaked—he could use some oil.

"I like it.

That thing has been a major obstacle in my plans.

Mass-producing disposable wooden dolls? That’s half its fault.

In return, I’ll be taking its parts."

"You don’t need anything else?"

"If you can get the cooperation of other Story’s Demons, that would be an excellent trade.

Especially if one of you already managed to land a hit on it."

"That’s great to hear.

Honestly, I was worried.

But it turns out you’re all pretty reasonable people. You can have the parts."

"..."

What was with that silence?

Did I say something strange?

"Consider yourself lucky.

I just finished crafting a tool specifically to deal with that bothersome Machine God.

If you want—"

"Whoa! Look, it’s a real living machine!"

Pinocchio’s words were cut off by a boy’s excited voice.

It was Soo-ho.

"Tch."

So, the others had finally arrived.

And sooner than expected, at that.

Pinocchio creaked as he turned his head toward the children.

"Children, huh? I don’t like them.

They’re the embodiment of weakness.

Hmph... Alice, what about you?

I don’t care, but if you dislike them, I’ll kill them for you.

Think of it as a simple favor."

"What?!"

I couldn’t believe my ears.

How in the world did his thought process lead to that conclusion?!

"I take it you don’t like the idea."

Pinocchio turned his body toward the children, taking a single step forward.

Soo-ho, sensing the danger, grabbed a nearby metal sheet to shield the others.

"Using a metal sheet as a shield? How amusing.

Well, I could give you a better one.

I am a craftsman, after all.

In fact, I’ll cut off one of your arms and make a built-in shield.

You should be grateful."

"...!"

At that moment, Slender Man appeared behind the children.

They hadn’t noticed him yet.

But Pinocchio had.

He could tell that Slender Man wasn’t in a good mood.

And with that realization, he turned to me and asked.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

“...Is this one of your monsters too? Why is it interfering?”

“Are you even thinking straight?”

“...? I don’t see the problem. If you dislike it, I’ll stop. It’s a reasonable issue.”

Pinocchio turned back to face me.

Feeling uneasy, I warned him.

“...Those kids are my friends. If you touch them, I won’t stand by and watch.”

“Relax. The Story’s Demons never know what powers each other might be hiding, so fighting among ourselves isn’t wise.

For a merchant, suffering losses due to a lack of information is disgraceful.”

That sounded an awful lot like he was saying, if I had figured you out completely, I would’ve gone through with it.

As I frowned, Pinocchio bid me farewell and walked off in the opposite direction of the entrance.

“Alice. As long as humans use machines, fragments of the Machine God’s consciousness will continue to manifest.

The living machines will use humans as hosts and multiply endlessly.

My wooden puppets alone won’t be enough to hold them back.

When that happens, it will appear. Right in the middle of the city.”

“...”

“Yeah. It’ll be a wasteland soon enough, so prepare accordingly.

I’ll be making my own arrangements as well.”

“Got it.”

I still wasn’t thrilled about what he had tried to do to the kids, but I needed his cooperation, so I agreed.

Forget what I said about him being reasonable. He’s absolutely insufferable.

“One last thing—you should send your friends far away.”

“What?”

“I doubt you’re planning to use those brats as part of your forces,

but can they even injure the Machine God?

Can they dodge its attacks?

Can they resist its abilities?

If they fail to meet even one of those conditions, even the flick of its pinky finger would crush them.

Even if they had firearms, it wouldn’t change the outcome.

They’d just be obstacles.

The scale of this battle is too big for kids.

Even if you survive, they won’t.

It would be best for both you and them.”

“You...!”

I felt angry. But why?

And more than that—I felt frustrated.

Because I couldn’t argue against what he said.

“...Fine. See you next time.”

Pinocchio disappeared into the darkness.

Cold, mechanical.

He didn’t seem to have a human heart.

What exactly had he experienced in the game?

That was another story for another time.

“Alice...? What the hell was that?”

“...”

Right.

I still had one more problem left to deal with.

How was I supposed to explain Pinocchio to the kids?

I glanced at them.

Should I erase their memories? No... Not yet.

“Alice? Your eyes look scary. Are you okay?”

I didn’t erase anything last time.

So this much should be fine.

I just needed to make up an excuse.

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“Actually... that wooden puppet-looking guy is a friend of mine.”

“What! Really?”

“...Are you sure?”

“Yeah! What does he do?”

“Well... he’s someone who prepares special performances.

To be honest, there was never any ghost in the first place.

Since he didn’t have anywhere to practice at night, he used this place.

That’s how the rumors started.”

I wasn’t even trying, but the lies rolled off my tongue smoothly.

Maybe I was the one whose nose should be ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ growing instead of Pinocchio.

“That doesn’t really add up...”

Eun-jung was strangely sharp at times like these.

God, I hated that.

I hugged her tightly to shut her up.

This method always worked.

At this point, if someone called me a serial hugger, I wouldn’t even be able to argue against it.

Honestly, part of it was probably because back when I was Ella, this girl kept clinging to me, so my resistance to it just disappeared.

“Ahaha, I see.

Anyway, that guy doesn’t like people watching his rehearsals.

I was trying to go ahead and ask for permission, but... well, I failed, and he got annoyed and left.”

“Oh, so Alice knew all along.

That’s kinda disappointing, though.

I didn’t expect the story to have such a lame twist.

Still, that makeup was really realistic!

Do you know where he performs?”

“Uh... hmm. Somewhere in the center of the city?”

“Ooh! Will Alice be in the play too? Like, appearing dramatically from behind the curtains?”

“Fufu... That’d be fun.”

Thank god these kids were gullible.

And honestly, even if they didn’t believe me, what could they do?

Even a passing dog would know which explanation was more realistic.

The kids eventually went home.

The night deepened.

But I couldn’t shake Pinocchio’s last words from my mind.

"Even if you survive, they won’t."

"It would be best for both you and them."

“...”

Time passed.

Two days after parting ways with Pinocchio,

the church contacted me.

“Good evening, Miss Alice.”

“We wish to speak with you about the impending calamity.”

The moment I heard those words, I tensed up—

like a criminal caught by the police.