Chapter 11 (Two-in-One)
But he didn’t rush inside. Instead, he quickly moved to the window. The cafeteria had surveillance, and though he didn’t know how the killer evaded it, he couldn’t brazenly enter.
Peering through the window, the cafeteria was empty except for a boy in a school uniform, face down on a table, looking asleep.
But Su Bei knew he wasn’t asleep—he was dead. From this angle, a small pool of blood was clearly visible under his feet, with drops still dripping down.
This was likely the substitute victim, and if he wasn’t mistaken, also a Class F student.
Poor, unlucky Class F…
Closing his eyes briefly, Su Bei took a photo with his phone, then, without lingering, retraced his steps to the bathroom.
Inside a stall, he examined the photo, zooming in for details.
To ensure the protagonist trio could track the killer, the new victim would, like the original him, leave clues, likely in a similar way. After all, crafting manga plots was mentally taxing for authors.
Sure enough, the photo showed blank cards scattered around the victim’s body.
This was an Ability user who could produce cards.
Confirming the cards’ positions matched the original manga, Su Bei deleted the photo, switched his phone to the manga app, and left the bathroom. He found an inconspicuous spot along the dorm-to-cafeteria path, leaned against the wall, and started scrolling.
It was past 5 PM, and students were trickling out of the dorms for dinner.
Soon, spotting Jiang Tianming’s trio in his peripheral vision, Su Bei pocketed his phone and followed decisively.
He’d learned professional tracking skills but didn’t use them now. He didn’t need to hide that he was following them; in fact, he hoped they’d notice.
This manga’s rare trio of smart protagonists had no pure idiot archetypes.
Smart people overthink, and after his bold words upon meeting, they’d already be suspicious of him.
When they saw the body later and connected it to his trailing, they’d easily misunderstand.
And that was exactly what Su Bei wanted.
“The Yellow-Haired guy from this morning is following us,” Jiang Tianming said softly, glancing back subtly.
Wu Mingbai perked up: “The one who called you an unlucky ghost?”
Jiang Tianming had told him about it after they regrouped.
Jiang Tianming nodded: “That’s him, Su Bei. Subing, found anything?”
Lan Subing, her lower face hidden by a scarf, shook her head, whispering: “Tomorrow.”
Used to her reticence, Jiang Tianming and Wu Mingbai quickly grasped she meant results would come tomorrow. Not surprising, as it hadn’t even been a day.
Wu Mingbai raised a brow, flashing a sunny smile.
Seeing it, Jiang Tianming and Lan Subing’s eyelids twitched. That was Wu Mingbai’s troublemaking grin, signaling problems.
But before they could stop him, Wu Mingbai spun around, striding to Su Bei, his brown eyes innocent: “Are you following us?”
Even Su Bei, faced with such bluntness, paused, then gained a deeper understanding of Wu Mingbai’s character.
White on the outside, black on the inside, as expected.
He flashed an intrigued smile: “Yup.”
Wu Mingbai, like an orange golden retriever, pressed: “Why, why?”
“Because interesting things always happen around unlucky people,” Su Bei said with a grin, the picture of a drama-seeking bystander.
Jiang Tianming stepped forward, unfazed by Su Bei’s ominous hint, pushing up nonexistent glasses: “If you’re watching a show, shouldn’t you pay for a ticket?”
“Eh? You need to pay for that?” Su Bei feigned shock.
He was genuinely surprised, not about paying, but about Jiang Tianming’s current persona.
In the first manga, Jiang Tianming was shrewd but kept it internal, rarely vocalizing it, let alone acting so lively.
Why the character shift?
But Su Bei quickly realized: in the first manga, Jiang Tianming bore a deep vendetta and faced mortal danger, naturally acting cautious and reserved.
Now, in the safety of school, he didn’t need such vigilance. His orphanage, though modest, was harmonious, and the month between the first and second manga had restored his natural demeanor.
In other words, compared to the first manga, this was Jiang Tianming: lively plus edition.
For Su Bei, this change made approaching the protagonist trio easier. A relaxed protagonist was far more accessible than a wary one.
The downside was that much of his first-manga analysis was now useless, rendering half his plot study obsolete.
Sighing inwardly, he feigned compromise: “Fine, fine. It was supposed to be a free show for all, but since I snuck backstage…”
The trio exchanged glances. Lan Subing, hiding at the back, tugged her friends’ sleeves. With an outsider present, her social anxiety flared, preventing speech, so she typed on her phone.
Her screen blared three bold words—“I have money.”
Before Su Bei could react, Wu Mingbai, with a guileless tug on Jiang Tianming’s other sleeve, said: “Miss Lan’s loaded. Maybe we don’t charge others?”
Jiang Tianming’s eyes flickered with amusement, pretending to waver: “Maybe we skip the fee?”
Only a fool would buy that. Su Bei saw through their act—they were signaling that tickets weren’t paid with money.
Not money, then what? Clues, obviously.
This aligned perfectly with his plan.
But shared goals didn’t mean he’d indulge them. Smirking, Su Bei called out their ploy: “Stop acting, it’s a bit fake.”
Ignoring their faux-innocent looks, he continued: “For the sake of the show, I’ll give you the hints you’ll need later as your ticket.”
The words stunned Wu Mingbai and Lan Subing.
“Hints you’ll need later”—did that mean what they thought?
Only Jiang Tianming remained calm, having vaguely guessed Su Bei’s Ability from his earlier words.
“Thanks, then. How’ll you give these hints?” Jiang Tianming asked.
“Stand still.”
As Su Bei spoke, he conjured a gear, hovering it above each of their heads briefly. With each gear, his face paled slightly.
After all three, he clasped his hands before his chest, slowly pulling them apart. An ancient bronze gear appeared, hovering between his hands, adorned with intricate patterns, looking archaic and mysterious.
Before they could examine it, the gear erupted in purple-red smoke, vanishing moments later.
“What’s that about?” Jiang Tianming asked, slightly surprised.
Lan Subing showed her phone’s typed text—“Failed?”
From a wealthy family, she knew more than her friends. Prophecy Abilities weren’t easy to use, and failure was likely for novices.
“Quite the opposite,” Su Bei shook his head. “My hint’s been given.”
The trio froze. Jiang Tianming, recalling, said uncertainly: “That purple-red smoke was the hint?”
“Yup,” Su Bei nodded.
Confirmed, Jiang Tianming pressed: “Does it mean we’ll encounter or need this purple-red smoke later?”
Of course not, Su Bei thought.
The purple-red smoke held two clues: the color purple-red and the smoke itself, representing the killer’s eye color and Ability.
He’d pulled it off with his near-useless Ability.
His [Gear] Ability could choose the metal for gears, but rarer, pricier metals produced fewer gears.
Cesium-sodium (a manga-world exclusive) was highly reactive, turning purple in air within seconds.
He’d scoured for it before leaving, picking it to execute his plan.
His paling face? He’d secretly conjured gold gears in his pocket each time, draining his Ability.
Task complete, Su Bei barely contained his laughter, maintaining his enigmatic facade.
He couldn’t reveal the answer, so he shrugged: “Who knows? A tip: fate rarely gives concrete hints. It could be a metaphor, an object, or a mix of clues.”
“I’ve got a question!” Wu Mingbai, silent till now, raised his hand eagerly, eyes sparkling. Without the first manga’s context, one might fall for his sunny act.
“Shoot.”
“What were you doing above our heads?” He tilted his head curiously, almost cute.
Su Bei didn’t answer directly, extending a finger with a salesman’s smile: “That’s unrelated to the ticket. For that answer, you’ll need to pay a price.”
Hearing “price,” a flash of wariness crossed Wu Mingbai’s eyes. He knew this cryptic guy tailing them had ulterior motives.
But he kept his eager facade: “What price?”
Su Bei stared at Jiang Tianming: “I want you to team up with me for the school’s next group activity.”
“Huh?” The trio looked puzzled.
Jiang Tianming pointed at himself: “You mean I join your team for the next group activity?”
“No, I join yours,” Su Bei corrected. “If it’s pairs, it’s you and me. If it’s a group, you pick the others, just include me.”
Teaming with the protagonist guaranteed screentime, right?
“But why…” Jiang Tianming paused, realizing, “Because I’m the unluckiest?”
Seeing his quick wit, Su Bei gave a “teachable” look, adding “kindly” to the others: “Don’t feel bad, you two. If you ever out-unluck him, I’ll team with you too.”
“Who needs that!” Even with her social anxiety, Lan Subing couldn’t help whispering a retort.
She usually kept her snark internal, so Su Bei had broken her norm.
Wu Mingbai frowned, shaking his head at his friends: “No need…”
He was curious but wouldn’t risk his friends for an answer.
But before he finished, Jiang Tianming said firmly: “I agree.”
He reassured the orange-haired boy: “It’s fine. I’m curious too. He wants to keep watching the show, so he won’t screw me over easily. What’d he do without a good show later?”
His last line was directed at Su Bei, the meaning clear.
Satisfied, Su Bei nodded, saying cryptically: “Don’t worry, I just touched a point on the fate compass above your heads. Everyone has a fate compass overhead. Gears infused with your fate’s aura can prophesy.”
Pure fabrication, of course. See a fate compass? Please. He said it to make his prophecy seem less trivial and to lay groundwork for shifting his apparent prophecy Ability toward an offensive one.
A prophecy Ability requiring no effort or cost was too fake, inviting suspicion.
If readers bought this, he could later “see” fate compasses, aiding his future plans.
Without his prophetic edge later, he had to milk this one chance to tie his Ability to fate.
Done explaining, Su Bei didn’t linger. The plot would wait for the protagonists, but if someone found the body early, it’d be trouble.
Knowing manga readers’ tastes, he stifled embarrassment, gracefully bending a knee and gesturing toward the cafeteria: “The curtain’s up. Your stage awaits.”
The trio headed to the cafeteria, Su Bei trailing leisurely, keeping ten meters back. He needed to play the observer; too close, and he’d get tangled in trouble.
At a distance, Wu Mingbai spoke freely to Jiang Tianming: “Why’d you agree so fast? Who knows if he’s acting? If the next activity’s pairs, we can’t even help you.”
Lan Subing nodded: “Too rash.”
“On the contrary, it’s well-considered,” Jiang Tianming glanced back at Su Bei, explaining, “His timing shows he doesn’t care much about the request. We could easily refuse. If he really wanted it, he’d pick a moment we couldn’t say no.”
No one argued. He continued clearly: “He doesn’t care for two reasons: either he’s not that set on teaming with me, or he’s sure he can team with me regardless of my answer.”
They got it. If Su Bei wasn’t fixated, he likely wouldn’t harm Jiang Tianming.
If it was the second, refusing wouldn’t matter, so they might as well gather clues.
“Fine, that makes sense,” they accepted, dropping it. Lan Subing raised another issue: “About the fate compass thing, didn’t something feel off?”
“Off? Was he lying?” Wu Mingbai asked.
“Not that,” she shook her head, typing on her phone and sending it to their group chat.
—“He said, ‘Don’t worry, I just touched your fate compasses.’ If it’s harmless, why say ‘don’t worry’? It feels like the act could harm us, but he chose not to.”
With her [Word Spirit] Ability, she was highly sensitive to language, catching Su Bei’s planted hint.
Her words made Jiang Tianming ponder, murmuring: “…If touching is fine, what about taking it?”
The trio realized a chilling possibility, their faces shocked.
If it could be touched, it could be taken. What happens if someone’s fate compass is removed?
It was speculative, but they didn’t think it baseless. For now, it was pointless to dwell on, so they focused on Su Bei’s “big show.”
“Whatever this ‘show’ is, it’s probably in the cafeteria,” Wu Mingbai said, eyeing the building warily.
Jiang Tianming agreed but, seeing his friends’ tension, comforted: “No worries. We’ll handle what comes. Are we scared of this?”
He had a point. Before school, they’d defeated a powerful Ability user and dismantled a transnational syndicate. What could scare them in a safe school?
Relaxed, Lan Subing quipped: “We totally got played by Su Bei’s attitude.”
Chatting and laughing, they entered the cafeteria. Though less tense, they dropped their smiles upon entering, scanning vigilantly.
But the cafeteria was lively—students getting food, chatting, no issues apparent.
Exchanging glances, they got food from the same window and sat in a quiet spot with only one “sleeping” student, seemingly the safest place.
From a corner, Su Bei, watching the trio pick their “safe” spot, smirked.
As expected from plot inertia, they sat right by the victim.
Knowing the victim’s state, Su Bei easily spotted the small, darkening blood pool on the floor, but others, unaware, would miss it.
Plot protection likely helped, or Su Bei couldn’t fathom why, in a bustling cafeteria, no one—not even those beside the victim—noticed he was dead.
His eyes glinted coldly.
Despite the lively atmosphere, the scene made him question: was this a real world?
Were they all just manipulable puppets?
Rubbing his brow, Su Bei adjusted his mindset. Puppet or not, he wanted to live well. No time for existential whining—he still had a death threat to survive.
He smirked again, this time at himself.
“Ah! What’s this?” A girl’s scream rang out.
Su Bei looked up in the planned direction, seeing the victim collapsed, surrounded by the protagonist trio and a panicked girl covering her mouth.
Jiang Tianming finally noticed the blood pool and the stain on the victim’s chest, forming a grim hypothesis.
Realizing something, he looked up, scanning quickly. Su Bei guessed he was looking for him. With this incident, even a fool would connect it to his “show” comment.
But Jiang Tianming didn’t spot him, and after a sweep, he crouched by the victim to check.
Placing fingers under the victim’s nose, he gave a grim verdict: “No breathing. He’s dead.”