As expected, Alice's expression changed the moment she heard the question.

  "Why are you asking this all of a sudden?" She studied my face. "Don't tell me you've already..."

  "It's not what you're thinking," I replied in a measured tone. "I'm just taking precautions. I need to confirm this in advance."

  "How exactly do you take precautions against something like that?" She frowned. "Besides, you never fully believed what I said before, and now you're suddenly digging so deep..."

  "What I find hard to believe is only your talk about the apocalypse, not your description of how you attract misfortune. Seeing how much it bothers you, I can't just dismiss it as a joke. And besides..."

  She asked suspiciously, "And besides what?"

  "I can't believe you, but I want to believe you." I looked into her eyes with genuine sincerity. "Alice, can you let me believe in you?"

  This was truly from the heart. Whether it was the end of the world or her jinx-like nature, both were things I struggled to accept fully, yet I wanted them to be real.

  But to be honest, I never imagined I'd spout such a cheesy line from my own mouth one day. Someone once said that when people play a role they're unfamiliar with, they can't help but fall back on stereotypes. Maybe I've read too many comics—when I try to act like the good guy, I end up with these over-the-top clichés.

  I don't know if it grossed her out, but Alice instinctively backed away again. This time, she retreated until her back hit the wall, staring at me in shock. "You... you're really something else. How can someone like you even exist?"

  "So, does your misfortune-attracting trait affect people around those close to you?" I couldn't help circling back to my original question.

  She composed herself, thought for a moment, and replied, "I'm not entirely sure."

  "Even you don't know?" I asked, puzzled. "Shouldn't you be the one who knows best?"

  "You'd understand if you just think about it. In the apocalyptic world I lived in, anomalies were everywhere. Survivors tried to avoid monsters as much as possible, but anyone could get spotted and thrown into danger at any moment." She explained. "In that environment, I couldn't tell which anomalies were drawn by my jinx and which were just plain bad luck."

  "If everyone had a decent chance of being attacked by anomalies, how could you be sure some were your fault?" I didn't let the point slip.

  "...It's based on statistics," she said, her voice turning somber. "From talking to other survivors, I realized my encounter rate was abnormally high, and that abnormality gradually affected the people I worked with... Some of them might have lived longer otherwise. It should have been me who died..."

  By the end, she couldn't hide her negativity and frustration anymore.

  It seemed this had traumatized her deeply; she radiated vulnerability and world-weariness.

  To distract her, I tried shifting her focus: "I get it—it's like black paint shows up clearest on white paper but blends in on black. Your misfortune trait only gives vague results in a world already full of disasters, right?"

  That said, even in that setting, with enough trials, you could probably get more precise data. But that would mean sacrificing more lives, which clearly wasn't something Alice would do.

  "Yeah..." Alice took a deep breath, looking somewhat exhausted.

  Suddenly, her legs buckled, and she nearly collapsed again.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  I rushed forward to steady her. She'd passed out before, and it seemed like the symptoms were returning.

  Fortunately, she didn't faint this time. She grabbed my arm for support and held herself up.

  I helped her over to the sofa and sat her down.

  "Are you okay?" I recalled the hospital gown she'd been wearing at first. "Do you have some kind of illness? If you need medication..."

  "No, it's not a physical ailment," she said seriously. "I told you before—my soul was gravely wounded by the great demon of the apocalypse, so I can't even use my blessing powers. These sudden fainting spells are because of my soul..."

  Before she could finish, her stomach let out a loud growl.

  She fell silent.

  "Are you hungry?" It hit me then what I'd forgotten before coming home.

  I'd forgotten to feed Alice!

  From picking her up last night until now, I hadn't seen her eat anything, and she'd been weak the whole time.

  This was the first time I'd left someone at my place for so long, so I hadn't even thought about their meals. It was like being a first-time pet owner forgetting to stock up on food, just leaving the poor thing at home while I casually went off with Chang'an.

  No wonder Alice had seemed annoyed when I got back—she probably expected me to return soon, not leave her starving for hours.

  I felt incredibly guilty about it.

  "I'm sorry, that was my oversight. You must be really hungry now, right?"

  "It's fine, I'm used to it." Her face showed no surprise, but her hand instinctively rubbed her stomach.

  Hearing that made me feel even worse.

  "I didn't think you'd get so hungry you'd pass out..."

  "It's not from hunger!" She frowned at first, protesting, then rubbed her stomach again. "I just told you—it's the soul wound. I ate yesterday, so going without for a day isn't enough to make me faint. It's the soul injury causing the blackouts... Wait, what's with that look?"

  "Yeah, I get it. Soul wound, right? I understand."

  "No, that expression—you don't believe me at all... Don't look at me with that pitying gaze! Didn't you just say you 'want to believe me'?"

  She seemed more embarrassed about the pity than the hunger, fuming as if she wanted to bite me.

  I quickly changed the subject: "But isn't there food in the fridge? And snacks in the bedroom? You didn't touch any of it?"

  "You mean the stir-fried meat and rice in the fridge? That's your food," she said matter-of-factly. "I'm supposed to hide out here for the next three days—how could I just help myself to your stuff? People who do that deserve whatever they get, even if it's death."

  "This isn't the apocalypse; no one deserves to die over something that minor." I wanted her to feel at ease here. "This was my fault for not thinking ahead. From now on, feel free to use anything in the house—like it's your own place. My things are yours. Eat or drink whatever you want, and if we run out, just let me know."

  Instead of being pleased by this generosity, she gave me a skeptical look. "How could that be okay?"

  "You're only staying for three days, aren't you?" I used that to ease her doubts, then headed to the fridge. "Hang on, I'll make you something right away. Just to be sure, you're really not fainting from hunger? No other health issues?"

  "I'm fine." She didn't seem to be lying.

  "Then I'll whip up some fried rice, but remember to eat slowly." I pulled out the fridge contents.

  These were leftovers from my last takeout order—I always get extra for the big discounts on the app, then store what I can't finish in the fridge to reheat later when I'm hungry. I had green pepper stir-fried pork, rice, stir-fried potato shreds, and a few eggs. I planned to mix it all into fried rice for Alice.

  I actually had another question for her, but I figured I'd fill her stomach first.

  She seemed to sense it from my demeanor, though.

  "You probably have more questions for me," she said, stopping me while eyeing the plastic containers of food in my hand. "I didn't answer your last one properly, so that doesn't count as an exchange for food. You can ask me one more."

  "If I ask, will you answer?" I countered.

  "I can't promise—it depends on the question." Her stance hadn't changed.

  I set the containers on the nearby dining table for now.

  "Alright... First off, you crossed over from the apocalypse to this time yesterday, right?"

  "That's what I said last time."

  "The cop who knocked on my door this morning called you a serial killer who's murdered five people in the last two or three months. What do you make of that?"

  "I didn't do it," she stated firmly. "Before yesterday, I wasn't even in this era."

  Yes, that was her alibi.

  Between Alice and Agent Kong, one of them had to be lying. Alice seemed more likely, given the records of her photo in this era.

  But I knew of a possibility that could make both their statements true.

  Alice was a time traveler, and "time travel" is a fictional concept where someone moves to another spacetime for various reasons. It generally falls into two types: one where both soul and body move together, and one where only the soul moves. In many stories, soul-only travelers often possess another person's body.

  Alice had said she arrived here after a spatial transfer failed, so I'd assumed it was both soul and body.

  But suppose the body Alice was using now wasn't her original one, and the original owner was the real serial killer—then most of the puzzles would fall into place.

  "Alice, is this body really your own?"