Chapter 84: 83 Origins (Combined)

83 Origins (Combined)

Thanks for the Cleanup Bureau’s help? Does that mean someone from the Bureau had already contacted Happy Apartment?

But according to the Cleanup Bureau’s records, I was the first person to discover this apartment—so did that person find it and fail to report it? Or perhaps…

After pondering the caretaker’s words, Li Ang ventured to speak:

“May I ask, when you say ‘help,’ do you mean ordinary assistance, or the most fundamental kind—the kind that turned you both into what you are now?”

“Of course the most fundamental kind.”

The most fundamental kind… meaning this Happy Apartment was actually “created” by someone within the Cleanup Bureau?

But… how could that be possible?

Recalling the “common knowledge” told to him by the Red-haired Director and Senior Emma, Li Ang unconsciously furrowed his brow.

For anomalies, “creation” and “forging” are two entirely different concepts.

The Cleanup Bureau’s “made” anomalies are mostly like Director Golden Bull—forged from remnants recovered after completing cleanup tasks, preserving core abilities, effectively modifying uncontrollable existing anomalies into something roughly controllable.

But if the caretaker’s description and his own understanding were both correct, then this Happy Apartment… this [Spirit-Haunted Dwelling]… defies that common knowledge—it was created from nothing!

This is far too important to leave unclarified! But…

“Anna…”

“You two talk first.”

Seeing Li Ang’s troubled gaze, the frail girl, though deeply curious, smiled understandingly and rose to walk toward the inner room.

“It’s been unusually cold lately—I’ll check if Mélanie and the others kicked off their blankets, don’t want them catching a chill.”

“Thank you for your trouble…”

Unwilling to let his family become too entangled with the world beneath the surface, Li Ang exhaled once Anna entered the inner room and closed the door, then spoke with serious expression:

“If you’re willing, could you tell me how that person originally ‘helped’ you?”

“What’s wrong?”

Seeing Li Ang’s sudden seriousness, the caretaker seemed to sense something was off, hesitating slightly as she replied:

“Young man, be honest with me—is there some rule in your Bureau that forbids turning us into what we are now?”

“It’s not so much forbidden as outright impossible…”

After briefly explaining the difficulty in terms she could understand, seeing the caretaker’s worried expression, Li Ang comforted her:

“Don’t worry—there’s no risk of punishment for that person. I’ve never heard of such an ability to create anomalies; the Bureau has no regulations regarding it.”

“Besides, you’ve been anomalies for nearly a hundred years. Though Cleanup Bureau members have far superior physical conditioning, most of us live about as long as ordinary people—so that person is almost certainly gone by now.”

“Also, since this involves creating an anomaly, it’s incredibly significant. If you can, I’d appreciate as many details as possible.”

“I see…”

Learning there would be no trouble for her “benefactor,” the caretaker relaxed, recalling after a moment, hesitantly speaking:

“There’s nothing secret about it—we just don’t know much ourselves… Hmm… This apartment was originally a charity home built from my husband’s and my own property. You’ve already checked that, right?”

“Yes.”

Seeing Li Ang nod, the caretaker touched her white curls, her expression calm as she continued:

“My hair wasn’t always white—it turned gradually white after I fell seriously ill.”

“The illness brought constant pain—I survived only by overdosing on sleeping pills and painkillers. I could stay conscious only three or four hours a day, and even during those hours, I vomited and diarrhea nonstop from drug reactions…”

“Ah… I hated leaving my husband, but after years of torment, I truly didn’t want to live anymore. I planned to apply to convert the charity home into an official municipal facility, then stop medication and die.”

Speaking calmly of her hair’s origin, the caretaker’s gaze turned sharp, her voice cold and hollow:

“I submitted that application over thirty times. My husband, despite his lame leg, made two or three hundred trips to city hall—yet every answer was always ‘wait.’”

“At that point, I knew the city didn’t want to take it over. Once we two old people died, the people living in the charity home would face a terrible fate.”

The caretaker’s face filled with bitterness:

“The charity home’s property was registered under my name, and my husband, due to past matters, had no legal right to inherit. So I couldn’t die—I had to endure, buying time to find other futures for the people there.”

“I managed to place some of them elsewhere, but most residents had no ability to work, and I found no other options. Meanwhile, my body was failing.”

“My husband said my heart stopped three times in that final month, and my breathing ceased countless times—but even as I clung to life, I slowly reached my limit…”

Heart stopped… and she still held on?

Hearing the caretaker’s past, though inappropriate, Li Ang recalled words from the Red-haired Director:

Only the extreme is remembered. Only the obsessive dares to press forward. Only the mad can understand greatness.

Or rather—whether positive or negative—only the purest, most extreme things leave their mark upon this world.

…

“But I didn’t want to die. I couldn’t die.”

Unaware of Li Ang’s thoughts, recalling those painful days, the caretaker’s face twisted:

“On that final day, I could barely open my eyes—my heartbeat and breathing had ceased entirely. I was nearly a corpse. Even my soul briefly left my body, and I saw myself lying on the bed…”

“But I forced myself back! Nothing else—I just couldn’t accept it! I had to know why! Why, when all it took was a signature to save so many lives, did no one step forward to approve my application?”

Catching her breath, her expression softened slightly. She gripped the hand of the burly old man who had quietly returned and now stood behind her, lowering her voice:

“Though my soul returned, my body was truly dead. My husband, prepared for this, summoned the mortician.”

“Hmm… I don’t remember clearly, but the mortician was a young man. He had naturally downturned lips, as if perpetually weeping, but otherwise looked ordinary. His eyes, however, were bright—and he seemed to see things others couldn’t.”

“His eyes pierced through my corpse and saw my lingering soul. He asked, surprised, why I still refused to leave.”

Naturally weeping face, bright-eyed young man?

Carefully noting these traits, planning to ask the Red-haired Director tomorrow, Li Ang asked softly:

“Was this the man…?”

“Yes. Him.”

Giving a firm answer, the caretaker’s expression grew complex:

“He asked if I had any last wish. But I was filled with hatred—I wanted to become a furious spirit and kill every official in city hall. So I screamed at him.”

“But after hearing my story, he didn’t respond to me. Instead, he asked my husband: Do you want to see her one last time? The price: you die immediately.”

Here, the caretaker paused, then squeezed the burly old man’s hand tightly, her eyes soft:

“My husband didn’t answer right away. He asked the weeping-faced young man: If I don’t just want to see her once, but to see her again and again—what would I have to pay?”

Hearing this, the young man was surprised, but after thinking, told my husband: Beyond one final meeting, he could bind his soul to mine forever.”

“But because my soul, after years of torment, was far stronger and more resilient than his, if we were bound together, he would lose most of his humanity and intellect, becoming merely a mere appendage to my soul…”

So… he agreed?

Watching the burly old man—one hand gripping the caretaker’s, the other stealthily reaching for the shears—Li Ang blinked, moved yet speechless.

“Don’t move!”

Having noticed his motion, she pinched his hand hard, forcing him to stop. Then, apologetically, she said:

“Don’t worry—I’m watching. He won’t cut you.”

“Ah… it’s fine, really.”

Secretly touching his pendant, ensuring he could react in time, Li Ang asked:

“Then… your souls were bound together and placed inside this building?”

“Something like that.”

Hearing this, the caretaker’s gaze dimmed, her tone sinking:

“But we didn’t start with our current power. Back then, we couldn’t even eat or drink like living people—couldn’t even speak to those inside.”

“Only when the city reclaimed the charity home and police forcibly evicted the remaining residents could we barely manifest a shadow at the deepest night.”

Li Ang nodded, thinking, then asked:

“So you grew stronger over time?”

“No. We became what we are now… it was an accident.”

At Li Ang’s question, the caretaker turned away, burying her face in the burly old man’s chest, her voice muffled:

“A child who’d been evicted from the charity home tried to sneak back at night—he nearly fell off the wall. My husband and I, worried, briefly manifested to support him.”

“The boy sensed something, screamed, and ran off. But later, he returned again and again. We… we were ‘still here’—the news spread among those who’d been evicted.”

Clenching her fists in deep regret, the caretaker trembled:

“Then… many children heard and came back, hoping to see us again. We… we showed ourselves a few more times.”

“Once people truly saw us, more and more returned—even those who’d already found new homes came back from other districts.”

“But… but then winter came… that winter was unusually cold, and they were all… so eventually fewer came, and their health grew worse each time… then… then…”

“…”

Then… most froze to death in the first winter after eviction?

Hearing this, eyes stinging, Li Ang tilted his head, recalling the archived files he’d read.

Over a hundred people had been expelled from the charity home. Most, lacking work ability, didn’t survive that winter—they froze to death near Happy Apartment.

Yet when their cold, shriveled bodies were found, most wore smiles. The incident made the news; the files kept several newspaper clippings.

I’d assumed their smiles were hallucinations before death—but now, I think they were real.

“I’m sorry…”

Seeing the caretaker, face buried in the burly old man’s chest, silently weeping, Li Ang regretted asking. He bit his lip, unsure what to say. The old man, gently patting her back, spoke:

“One hundred and three.”

Uttering the number without expression, the burly old man, unusually verbose, added softly:

“I received their final thoughts.”

「……」

So… you two are able to move like living beings now because the one hundred and three people who were evicted from Happy Apartment that year and froze to death outside, along with many others who once lived in this building, truly believed you were still here…

After roughly grasping his meaning, Li Ang, unsure how to respond, clenched his fists as he watched the female administrator weeping softly, then quickly changed the subject:

「Where’s that young man with the sad face? Has he come back since?」

「He came… once.」

After rubbing her tears against the old man’s chest, the female administrator whispered:

「About three years after that winter, he came to see us once.」

When he saw our condition, he was surprised, saying our ‘progress’ had surpassed his expectations, and asked me what I’d done these past years—why I’d grown so strong so fast, whether I’d killed those I hated.」

But after hearing our story, he seemed disappointed, asked why we didn’t seek revenge, and never came back again… Oh, right!」

After struggling to recall, the female administrator said uncertainly:

「We also asked him about himself then—whether he was still working as a mortician. He said he’d quit that job and joined the Cleanup Bureau as an official? Clerk? Or something like that… Does your Cleanup Bureau have such a position?」