My Iyashikei Game Chapter 633: The Murderer and the Redeemer

After the middle-aged woman hung up the phone, she walked towards the ground, as if there was an emergency.

After the middle-aged woman left, Han Fei looked into the depths of the first underground floor with his bag on his back.

Several rooms on the basement floor seem to have been bought by someone. The owner should be a lunatic. He wrote all kinds of words that are incomprehensible to ordinary people on the walls, full of destruction and despair. . .

Han Fei groped deeper while reading those words.

The smell of formalin in the air gradually thickened, and there were more and more bloodstains on the ground. The basement, which looked like a murder scene, gave Han Fei an indescribable sense of familiarity.

"As an actor or screenwriter, why do I know the taste of formalin? Why am I familiar with the murder scene?"

Thinking of the stories he wrote in the script, Han Fei's heart is even more confused: "What kind of person am I?"

Carefully avoid the blood on the ground. Normal people will definitely feel scared and panic when they encounter such a scene.

However, as a mental patient with persecution paranoia, Han Fei not only did not fall ill after entering such a **** scene, but his breathing gradually became smoother.

He feels like a twisted paradox, and the more he investigates, the more confused he becomes.

"My parents, who I don't remember at all, deal with corpses underground and then transport them out... The doctor Fu said that there have been a lot of unnamed corpses in the city recently, and the person who claimed to be my father, he happened to be A very good forensic doctor."

"Could it be that my father and mother were perverted murderers? I accidentally saw the scene of their murder, which caused my memory loss?"

"Or maybe they've been giving me medicine, causing me to forget about the past? Becoming a muddleheaded patient?"

This home is terrifying no matter what you think about it.

"I live with a murderous couple, and they don't have to be my parents!"

Han Fei didn't have the concept of parents in his mind at all, and he couldn't even find a starting point for his memories.

With all kinds of thoughts floating in his mind, Han Fei walked through the blood and came to the last room on the basement floor.

The door was locked. If you look closely, you will find that there is blood seeping under the crack of the door.

"The blood has coagulated. The blood was left by the mother who cleaned the blood stains in the gap. It seems that the first crime scene should be in this room." Staring at the blood on the ground, Han Fei muttered to himself : "The blood stains in the crevices cannot be washed with water, which will wash away the blood stains containing the victim's information. It should be collected little by little, and then use chemicals..."

Han Fei was taken aback by the thought in his mind: "Why do I know how to handle corpses?"

He has lost all memory, but his physical instinct is still there, but it can be weird sometimes.

"Because I'm a screenwriter, I look up stuff like that?"

Han Fei put on his clothes and gently pulled the iron door. Finally, the door of this room was locked and could not be opened.

"This time I leave, I shouldn't return to this horrible home. Before leaving, I must find out these things."

Looking around, Han Fei found a very thin wire. After he bent it to a suitable shape, he inserted it into the keyhole.

Originally, Han Fei just wanted to try it, but when he leaned against the lock cylinder and listened to the sound inside, his hands and brain cooperated extremely well, as if unlocking was originally a skill of his.

With the snapping spring, he opened the dilapidated iron door on the basement floor directly.

Looking at the iron door being opened, Han Fei himself felt incredible. He had mastered an ability that most screenwriters could not.

Looking into the house, the scene in front of him had a great impact on Han Fei.

In the dark and depressing room, there was a wooden table. A lot of manuscript paper and various pens were scattered on the wooden table. The bottom of the wooden table was soaked with blood.

At the back of the wooden table there are three shelves, one shelf is full of books, another shelf is full of various taxidermy jars, and the last shelf is filled with various murder tools, with hand axes , There are daggers, ropes, and various medicines.

The wall directly in front of the wooden table is not painted, but the surface of the wall is splashed with huge blood flowers, as if someone was killed there.

"Is this the devil's room? The desk is facing the blood-splattered wall, and the owner of the house is writing while watching the victim's body?"

The murder scene has been severely damaged, and the air is lingering with the pungent smell of formalin and an inexplicable stench.

Han Fei moved forward slowly, he realized something terrifying, his body had become accustomed to the pungent odor.

When a normal person smells these things for the first time, they will instinctively feel uncomfortable and even vomit, but he just frowned, which means that he probably smelled these often before he lost his memory!

"Why do I get used to it?"

Walking to the desk, Han Fei padded his sleeves and picked up the unfinished script on the desk.

"The sixth story - the tenant, the woman moved in in July, her belly is getting bigger and her mood is getting more unstable, she is irritable and arguing with people every night. I Sometimes I feel curious, why does she always quarrel with people at night when she lives on the sixth floor by herself?"

"The second time I saw her was a month later. She was in a bad state of mind and was reluctant to take the elevator. Every day she walked up and down the stairs with a big belly, and she kept scolding something in her mouth."

"She refuses to interact with anyone, and everyone in the community thinks she's ill, and gradually ignores her."

"Women are arguing louder at night, but no one knows who she is arguing with. Many people speculate that she is arguing with the man who abandoned her on the phone, but I don't think it's that simple." /

"The third time I met her was the day before she died."

"I wanted to go downstairs to buy a pack of cigarettes that night. When I passed the sixth floor, I heard movement in her house."

"I stayed at the entrance of the corridor for a while, the woman who had not been out for a long time slowly climbed out of the room, her face was thin and skinny, she kept scolding something, and her neck was shriveled as if there were only two skins left. ."

"As she slowly crawled out, I couldn't believe my eyes, I saw the woman's belly bulging high."

"This woman is not pregnant, and there is no human being hidden in her belly."

The complete version of the script is on the desk, but Han Fei feels that there is a follow-up to the script. He glanced at the blood on the floor: "How does he know that what is hidden in her stomach is not a human?"

Gently put down the script, Han Fei's heart was wrapped in chills, he saw the first half of the script in his room, and now the second half appeared on the desk, does that mean that the original owner of this room was he?

Thinking carefully, Han Fei's heart was about to jump out of his chest, and the blood vessels in his forehead bulged.

"Is there such a possibility?"

Familiarity with the stink of formalin and corpses, the ability to pick locks and handle corpses, and even the urge to grab hold of those knives on the shelf and wave them all seemed to indicate one thing.

"Is the murderer actually me? Is that couple helping me with the body?"

Han Fei has no memory of his past, he can't recall his past identity, but his keen insight and amazing physical instincts are still there.

Destroying a corpse and destroying traces is a very difficult task. Ordinary people need a long time to understand the steps just by thinking, but when he sees blood stains, he automatically simulates various washouts in his mind. method of incrimination.

"Skilled doesn't seem like the first time to do it, me, serial killer?"

Han Fei stood in place with a bag full of scripts on his back. Nothing could have had a greater impact on him than this incident.

"But if I'm a serial killer, why is that couple disposing of the body?"

"Did they find out what I was doing long ago, taking medication to make me lose my memory step by step, and want to change me?"

"My parents helped me dispose of the corpse so that my amnesiac could have another chance to start over? From this point of view, they were really the best people in the world, but..."

Han Fei clenched his hand: "If I really kill someone, and I'm really guilty, I'd rather be punished by myself than let them do such a thing, this is what's in my heart at this moment. A real idea."

"Why would I do such a thing when I can think like this?"

Contradiction, Han Fei is in the midst of an incomparable contradiction. He forgot that there seemed to be many souls in his mind, and everyone wanted to draw their own appearance on a blank canvas.

Putting his sleeves, Han Fei pushed open the door leading to the back room. He is really professional. He doesn't leave fingerprints or shoe prints, and he doesn't make any noise when he walks.

A stronger stench wafts from the back room, which contains some costumes.

The first costume was the uniform of the orphanage. It was very worn and had many cuts with knives.

Finding carefully, a shredded paper ball fell out of the shallow pocket of the clothes.

The paper ball seemed to be torn from the script, and the handwriting on it was distorted and blurred. It was completely different from the text on the ordinary script. It was like another person.

"A child who escaped from an orphanage died at 0:01 on Monday. The cause of death was suffocation. I remember his dying face, it was black and purple, and he was still alive until the end. Struggling like a bird with its wings caught. I know he can never fly away from this world again because someone tore his wings."

The words on the paper ball are still stained with blood, as if the murderer wrote it at the murder scene.

"Every time you kill a person, do you want to record it?"

Han Fei looked at the second piece of clothing again. It was a tattered puppet coat. It was not the same as what he was wearing before, it was more slender. There was also a note hidden in this piece of clothing.

"One night on Tuesday, a young man got off the night shift and ended the ghost hunting carnival in the park. He wanted to take a good rest from work, but he couldn't take off his skin. The cause of death was suffocation. I guess he must have been very frightened when he was enveloped in darkness, but I am no longer frightened."

Putting away the note, Han Fei looked at the third piece of clothing, which was a clown coat, painted in various colors, and matched with a hat and mask.

This suit is exactly the same size as Han Fei, as if it was made for him.

Raising his hand to find the note, before Han Fei approached, the clown's mask suddenly fell to the ground.

It's a somewhat scary smiley face mask, and the clown laughs so happily that it's even a little hysterical.

Finding the note behind the mask, Han Fei looked at the blood-red words on it.

“Sunday nights can be lively and I like to walk down the street alone and let everyone see my smile before I go and collect their smiles. I’ve always wanted to do something that heals all pain. And desperate people, but unfortunately I haven't even cured my own disease. Shh, don't look back, just guess, is my face under the mask crying or laughing now?"

The last dress seems to be Han Fei's own. He always feels as if he has worn this dress and has done many things in it.

"People who claim to be my parents, their height and body shape don't match this dress, so it seems even more unlikely that they are the masters of this room." Han Fei covered his forehead: "Am I really A **** killer?"

When his mind was extremely confused~IndoMTL.com~ Han Fei's mind flashed what Fu Tian's mother said, and he remembered the scene when the woman saw him.

"No!"

Han Fei's eyes changed again: "At least in that woman's mind, I am a brave and kind person who pursues fairness and justice, and is not afraid of fate. She thinks that I am the best husband and father in the world. It's the highest compliment I can think of."

These things in the room are in stark contrast to what the woman said. Han Fei, who has amnesia, seems to be torn apart, half sunny and gentle, half perverted and crazy.

"Who is the real me?"

Can't remember the past. Han Fei, who has amnesia, needs to re-define himself, whether he is a perverted murderer, the real murderer of a serial murder case, or a good person who was innocently implicated.

"What should I be like as a human being?" (to be continued)