Éamonn insisted—if the man wasn't a ghost, then what was he? It was too bizarre. A living person couldn't possibly do such things. He had even tried hanging from the network cable himself, but it was impossible—the cable couldn't support his weight at all.
To be honest, this was the first time I'd heard of something so strange. Who would have thought the common online threat—"I'll come through the internet to beat you up"—could actually come true? A living person couldn't do that. It was too creepy. It had to be a ghost.
Encountering a ghost online? That was definitely weird. But I wasn't entirely convinced by Éamonn's story. Was it true or not? I needed to investigate further. Divine and Ghost Tattoos weren't something to mess around with.
"Why don't I come to your place tonight and check it out?" I suggested. "If you really did encounter a ghost, and I confirm it, then I'll give you a proper ghost-warding tattoo. Guaranteed effective. But I'd advise you to change your ways—being a keyboard warrior online isn't a good look. Wielding a keyboard doesn't make you invincible."
"What if one day, the person you're cursing at turns out to be a ghost? What then?"
Éamonn nodded, clearly remorseful. After all, he was a man who had been force-fed shit—it was impossible not to be scared now.
However, Éamonn said he had something to do tonight and would have to postpone until tomorrow. He promised to send me his address tomorrow night, adding that he was too afraid to stay alone anyway and would appreciate my company. With that, he left.
After he was gone, I wondered—wasn't he worried about tonight?
Not long after, Stein came downstairs excitedly, announcing he had found Antonio's address. He handed me a battered cigarette case with Antonio's address scribbled on it.
I examined the worn-out case skeptically. "How old is this? Antonio might have moved out ages ago. Is this address even still valid?"
Stein scratched his head. "Not sure. But this is the only address I've got. If we can't find him there, we're out of luck."
"Then we shouldn't waste time. Let's go tonight—the sooner we track him down, the better. If he's not there, we'll have to think of another plan. It's only a matter of time before Daphne comes after us."
If I couldn't defend myself against her, I couldn't protect my shop sign either. That woman was unreasonable—she'd tear it down without hesitation.
Just as Stein and I were about to close up and leave, Moreira suddenly showed up. He was dressed head to toe in designer clothes, wearing an expensive watch, his hair slicked back like a high-roller from a casino. Gone was his previous down-and-out appearance—he looked like a completely new man.
"Well, well, look who's rich now! Seems my Five-Way God of Wealth tattoo is working wonders," I remarked.
"Mr. Roger—no, please, let me call you Master Roger! That tattoo is fucking miraculous. I could worship you like a god!" Moreira gushed, laying it on thick like he was ready to kneel before me.
Moreira said that since getting this tattoo, his stocks had been rising every day, and he hadn't lost a single bet. Now he had not only paid off all his debts but also won over $100,000. This tattoo was truly fucking amazing.
Since that was the case, I felt relieved. The Divine and Ghost Tattoo had worked—Moreira had cleared his debts and even won big. This was the best possible outcome.
I patted Moreira on the shoulder and advised him to quit gambling. "Take your winnings and start a proper business or save the money," I said. "Don't gamble anymore."
Moreira frowned unhappily. "How could I do that? Small gambling supports the family; big gambling makes you rich! I was just unlucky before, but now with this tattoo, I can't lose! Why should I quit? Only a fool would walk away from easy money. Money doesn't make itself, you know."
I sighed. "Luck isn't unlimited—it'll run out eventually. If you keep gambling every day, you'll burn through your fortune several times faster. When that happens, I'm afraid you'll lose everything twice over."
"Gambling isn't a way to make a living. You'll only end up miserable!"
But Moreira, currently riding high on his winning streak, completely ignored my warnings. Instead, he said, "Ror, I was actually going to talk to you about this. At first, this tattoo really helped me win, but lately, the wins have been getting smaller. I think it's losing its effect. How about giving me another one? I've heard the Yin-Inspired Tattoo is even more powerful."
After speaking, Moreira gave me an eager, expectant smile.
"No way!" I immediately shook my head. "You're going back on your word! You promised to quit gambling after paying off your debts. Now you're pushing your luck?"
My refusal clearly displeased Moreira. "It's not like I'm not paying you," he argued. "Just treat me like any other customer. I want that Yin-Inspired Tattoo—what I do with it isn't your concern. Gambling can make people rich. Why should I quit? With the right tattoo, I could become truly wealthy!"
"You're shameless!" I snapped. "How can you take back your word like this? I'm only thinking of your well-being. That Yin-Inspired Tattoo is dangerous, and you're already obsessed with money. If you get it, things will spiral out of control. You have to quit gambling—that's final."
Moreira scoffed coldly. "'For my own good'? Cut the act. This is just business. You're helping me because I'm paying, so don't make it sound so noble."
His words infuriated me. I hadn't expected Moreira to see me this way. If I didn't care about him, why would I bother? When he got his first tattoo, he was broke—did I demand a single cent from him?
Fine. If he no longer considered me a brother, I wouldn't waste my breath. Stein was right—you can't trust a gambler's promises. They never change their rotten ways.
"You want a tattoo, right? Fine. As long as you pay, you can get whatever tattoo you want." I snorted coldly. Since he wanted it, I'd oblige—what happened afterward wasn't my concern.
"Great! I'll take that Five Ghosts Fortune-Bringer. How much?" Moreira asked.
I didn't overcharge—just 100,000. He couldn't afford more anyway.
Moreira nodded without hesitation. After the results from his previous tattoo, he had full confidence in the Five Ghosts Fortune-Bringer. Besides, yin-themed tattoos were even more potent than yang-themed ones. He was bound to win bigger this time.
Without wasting time, Moreira immediately transferred the money, his face alight with eagerness for the Five Ghosts Fortune-Bringer.
Once the payment cleared, backing out wasn't an option. But it was already late, and I needed Christoph's special ink. Would he even be available?
I called Christoph—over a dozen times—but no answer. I checked the time: just past 9 PM. Was he seriously asleep already?
No choice. I had to go to the crematorium myself. With Moreira waiting like this, if I took his money tonight without delivering, he might skin me alive.
I told him to wait while I fetched the tattoo ink, but the little shit actually asked, "You're not planning to run off with the money, are you?"
That stung. After all our years of friendship, he didn't trust me? I'd been blind—thinking I could help him through tough times.
Some brotherhood. Maybe campus friendships were the only real ones. Out in society, people changed. Now? Nothing remained.
"Relax," I said. "The shop isn't going anywhere, and neither is Stein. I'm not running."
Finally speechless, Moreira let me leave. I hailed a cab to Christoph's crematorium.
The driver paled when I said "crematorium." Driving there at night? Bad luck. But he couldn't kick me out, so he sped the whole way. When we arrived, he vanished faster than a ghost—tires screeching.
Seriously? It's just a crematorium.
But as I stared at the eerie signboard, a shiver ran down my spine.
...Okay, maybe I took that back.