Investigation Report of the Gods

Chapter 1: The Headless Little Doll

A frightened mouse scurried into a corner.

Outside the stained-glass window, the sunlight was blinding.

Withered vines crept in from outside, spreading across the floor like grotesque scars.

A boy in a black little suit sat on the floor, a gaping tear at his neck, blood hissing as it welled out.

His gaze had already begun to blur, yet he strained to keep his eyes open, looking pleadingly at Han Su standing in front of him.

Han Su was the same age as him—only ten—but on his face was a maturity and resolve unlike the others.

That was probably why all the kidnapped children believed in him and followed him on this perilous escape.

Around them, it was extremely quiet.

Next to them, a slightly taller girl with a ponytail, wearing a birthday crown and a small dress, as well as the skinny Monkey‑Face, the Tuxedo Boy, and the Bowl‑Cut Boy, all dared not utter a sound.

The sight of the dying little boy had frightened them; their eyes glistened with tears.

Behind them, it felt as if watchful eyes were peering.

Inside the glass cabinet stood row upon row of exquisitely crafted wooden doll girls.

They stood innocently, obediently inside the glass case.

Han Su looked at the boy who had only a single breath left.

He slowly crouched down, took the boy’s palm, pried open his fingers, and removed the weapon the boy was desperately gripping.

It was a steel shard, wrapped in cloth, its tip ground to a deadly sharp point.

Seeing the boy’s expression shift to utter despair, Han Su calmly told him, “You’re not getting out. That thing’s useless to you now—consider it borrowed.”

“But you did well this time. I’ll remember that.”

“…”

If not for this boy, they probably would have been caught by that swift half‑masked woman back on the third floor.

Unfortunately, he wouldn’t survive this.

Talking about anything else now would simply waste time.

Standing up, not pausing for the boy on the floor to close his eyes, Han Su turned to the others and said, “Let’s do as we planned. He’s gone—but the rest of us must escape!”

“Light the fire first.”

“…”

The doll with the birthday crown immediately nodded obediently.

Even with tears still on her face, she reached into a small pocket on her dress and pulled out a tiny folding toy.

When she opened it, a small magnifying glass appeared.

She aimed it at the sunlight streaming through the window and focused a bright spot onto her favorite card.

It read, “Mom and Dad Love You.”

The bright spot on the card turned into a black dot, which began to smoke, and a faint flame appeared.

Han Su stared intently, without a blink, until the flame appeared.

He then suddenly looked at the pony‑tailed girl beside him and said, “Tie up the glass cabinet—don’t let them out.”

“Them?”

The pony‑tailed girl turned and glanced at the glass cabinet, seeing only a row of tattered, oddly styled toy dolls with fixed, staring eyes.

But she didn’t question him further.

She immediately stepped forward and gripped the handles of the glass cabinet.

Only then, seeing the flame taking hold, did Han Su carefully and tensely take the magnifying‑glass toy from the doll’s hand—and without hesitation, pressed it to the heavy purple curtains.

He had done this many times before; his movements were practiced and fluid.

The curtains ignited instantly, the flames crawling up like a greedy serpent tail across the room, and thick smoke quickly began to billow.

Inside the cabinet, the dolls, as if scorched by intense heat, had their realistic materials and tiny dresses char and warp.

Their painted smiling faces contorted in the dense, hot air—distorted and grotesque.

Suddenly, vicious curses rang from inside the display: the wooden dolls no longer pretended—they began to struggle.

Their segmented plastic arms pounded against the glass.

The pony‑tailed girl was so terrified her face turned white.

Instinctively, she pulled back—but then thought of the others and mustered the courage to grip the glass tightly.

Beside her, the Tuxedo Boy and the Bowl‑Cut Boy came over to steady the trembling cabinet.

But the dolls’ shrieks seemed to have stirred something else.

From the corridor outside came heavy panting.

“Huff… huff…”

With the sound of the floorboards creaking under pressure, it sounded as if some massive beast was inching its way toward the room.

Inside the room, everyone’s legs trembled; they were paralyzed with fear.

Yet Han Su shouted, “Keep an eye on the glass cabinet. When I get the key, run after me. We can escape!”

“…”

“…”

Those who had followed him here had all been carefully chosen by him.

Though small and frightened, they still held their ground, closed their eyes, and braced themselves behind the cabinet.

The dolls inside burned painfully, hammering and breaking glass—one plastic arm even scratched the pony‑tailed girl’s arm, drawing blood.

Tears welled in her eyes from the pain—but she refused to let go.

Yet the dolls’ shrieks, the spreading flames, the thick smoke—everything terrified them, their hearts gripped as if by icy hands.

Their faces were deathly pale.

They could only look to Han Su—their anchor of hope—and saw him crouched by the door, covering his mouth and nose.

Silently he counted in his head, ignoring the chaos around him.

Outside, the corridor was filled with heavy footsteps, the floorboards groaning under great weight.

A strong stench of rot blew in at his nostrils.

He clenched the sharp shard in his hand, his eyes narrowing with adult-like focus.

The footsteps halted at the door.

The red-painted wood door creaked open, and a pale, monstrous figure squeezed in—massive, filling almost the entire doorway.

In silhouette it looked like a man—at least two meters tall, with swollen legs.

His face was hidden, but his exposed neck and skin were a corpse‑like pale, bloated as if waterlogged for days.

His black trench coat and canvas work pants were shredded from being overstretched, and a brass antique key dangled from his belt.

Han Su suppressed the horror that clawed at his mind each time he saw this creature.

He fixated on the upside‑down tear in the creature’s coat.

It wasn’t yet time.

He needed the creature to step further in—nearer the wardrobe.

“Hehehe…”

The pale‑skinned beast had poor vision.

It entered a few meters into the room, and only then noticed the flames growing around it.

Panicking, it lifted one heavy leg and lunged toward the burning room.

Thick smoke swirled; it didn’t even see the trembling children in front of the glass cabinet.

Even the dolls inside the cabinet fell silent as the creature appeared, shrinking back and letting the fire consume them.

It was as if this beast was more terrifying than the flames.

And in that moment, Han Su charged.

Not yet ten years old, he pressed his feet against the wall and launched himself like a small leopard—the lithe body hurtling toward that bloated monster.

Every step was calculated: the timing, posture, landing all precise.

His hands gripped the steel shard and plunged it deeply into the man’s back—right into the upside‑down tear of the coat.

It pierced the heart position.

“Puh!”

The shard sank true—but it was too short and his strength too limited; it went in only six or seven centimeters.

The corpse‑white creature howled in pain, reared up like a swollen elephant, its power enormous.

Han Su, riding on its back, was slammed off.

He hit the wardrobe with his back; every bone felt about to shatter, but he endured it in silence.

He slid down to sit on the floor.

The next moment, the creature crashed its bulk into the wardrobe.

That collision pushed the shard further into its body.

By sliding down ahead, Han Su avoided being crushed.

Instead, he seized the opportunity—grabbed the brass key hanging at the monster’s waist—and wriggled under its legs, darting toward the door.

He shouted, “Run!”

Inside the room, all the children jolted—then scattered like frightened mice, following him.

But the pony‑tailed girl was too close to the cabinet.

As she turned to run, a plastic hand shot out, grabbing her ponytail and whipping her head back.

Doll after doll poured from the cabinet, submerging her under their bodies.

Her terrified scream echoed through the flames—but no one dared look back.

They ran toward the open door.

But no one expected that the monster—stabbed in the heart by the steel shard and seeming sluggish—would suddenly rise again.

Furiously, it flailed its fat, bloated arms, grabbing wildly to the side.

Bowl‑Cut Boy and Tuxedo Boy, who were running past it, got caught and were flung to the side.

Bowl‑Cut Boy’s head slammed into a cabinet.

His neck twisted grotesquely, losing elasticity like a snapped rubber band, and his head wobbled like a bobblehead.

Tuxedo Boy was gripped by the fingers, which dug into his flesh.

Bones were crushed, and blood mixed with fragments gushed from his mouth.

But the slower Doll Girl and Monkey‑Face managed to dash past the monster, racing toward the doorway.

They were desperate to catch up to Han Su.

The monster behind was terrifying, and Han Su in front frightened them too—they feared being abandoned, left beside the frenzied monster.

Yet just as Han Su, closest to the door, was about to dash out, he suddenly remembered something and shouted:

“Stop! Stop!”

He yelled with all his might, but Monkey‑Face couldn’t stop himself and bolted toward the door.

At that moment, a heavy gust of air swept past—

A dust-covered piano soared overhead and crashed solidly beside the door.

It landed along with Monkey‑Face, who had just reached the door.

That clever little boy, simply one step too fast, was smashed into a pile of blood and flesh.

Han Su’s heart seized violently, but he gritted his teeth, leapt up, and landed atop the piano by the door.

Then he turned and grabbed Doll Girl’s arm, pulling her over the piano and into the pitch-dark hallway beyond.

“The door… the door should appear now…”

Clutching the brass key tightly, he muttered to himself, then looked up.

A bizarre scene unfolded—

At the end of the dark hallway, space began to twist, as if something squeezed in.

His vision blurred, and then—he saw a door marked “EXIT” appear ahead.

This door’s design and style clashed dramatically with the old castle.

It was like two completely different elements forcibly stitched together.

Han Su’s heart leapt with joy.

One hand dragging Doll Girl, the other gripping the brass key snatched from the monster, he charged toward the iron door.

Behind them, the monster stumbled to the door but was blocked by the very piano it had hurled.

Its heavy body couldn’t leap over the piano.

It could only roar in fury and tear the obstacle to shreds.

Taking advantage of this, Han Su practically dragged the young Doll Girl toward the iron door.

The skin on her pale knees had been scraped raw and was bleeding.

But she said nothing, knowing this was a fight for survival.

The brass key, yanked from the monster, was icy and sticky with strange mucus.

That slime gave the key a mind of its own.

Caught off guard, the key slipped from Han Su’s grasp.

With a clang, it hit the floor.

Han Su had never experienced this before.

Cold sweat poured down his face as he bent to retrieve it—

But the monster had already charged into the hallway.

“Gege!”

A crisp voice rang out.

Doll Girl, still being dragged by Han Su, saw the key fall.

Quickly, she scooped it up and handed it to Han Su.

Her face even held a happy smile, as if proud to finally not be a burden.

She felt she had helped.

“I—”

Han Su snatched the key without turning his head.

He inserted it into the lock purely by feel, based on that familiar shape.

In that moment, his heart surged with gratitude for this youngest, most obedient, and clever girl, who always helped at crucial times.

But just then—

Doll Girl’s delicate face suddenly burst before his eyes.

That ingratiating smile lingered in his vision, but her head had already shattered.

Blood splashed across Han Su’s face. Through the crimson, he saw the monster by the room’s doorway.

It had just burst out of the room, but its bulk couldn’t pursue further.

So—it began to melt.

Its flesh and blood poured down the corridor like a flood, rapidly approaching.

Even its melting face, arms, and muscles were still visible within the ooze.

A slime-drenched arm had swung out, smashing Doll Girl’s head.

The sharp claws grazed past Han Su’s right eye, leaving a chilling scratch.

His eye didn’t hurt—

But it felt as though something was leaking.

Two seconds later, sticky liquid streamed down his face.

But Han Su could no longer care.

He just stared with his uninjured eye at the small girl who still gripped his hand.

Behind him, the iron door had opened.

Blinding light spilled in from outside.

The surging flesh of the monster slammed against the corridor like a wave.

Han Su slowly let go of the little girl’s hand, letting her small body fall.

At the same time, he stepped back.

His feet lost footing—he fell freely.

Ahead was the surging monster-flesh beyond the door.

Above—blinding white sunlight.

“Phew…”

Han Su suddenly woke up, panting hard.

He sat up and realized he was in a university classroom.

His arms had gone numb from supporting his head, and his sleeves were damp with sweat.

Beside him, a classmate turned with a smile and said, “Damn, Han Su! You dared to sleep in Her Holiness’s class? What, you’ve finally decided to degenerate like us spoiled rich kids?”

“…”

Han Su took a long moment to recover.

Only then did he realize—he’d escaped again.

Once again, he alone had made it out.

He checked his digital watch.

It was 4:52 PM.

Time still moved forward, as if nothing had ever happened.

He sat there silently, processing the emotional shock and the new fragments of memory.

After a while, he slowly turned to his buddy Xu Ji.

“Lend me a mirror.”

Xu Ji’s face changed.

“Don’t mess with me—I don’t wear makeup. Why would I carry a mirror?”

He glanced around and then pulled a small mirror from his bag, lowering his voice.

“My girlfriend’s. Left it with me.”

Han Su opened the mirror and saw the nineteen-year-old face staring back at him.

Delicate, pale—once could’ve been called handsome—

Except for that hideous scar, starting from the corner of his right eye and running to his hairline.

It made him look frightening.

Not just the scar—

Even his right eye had turned a pale, ghastly gray, ugly and grotesque, like a beaten dog.

“What, complaining about that scar again?”

Xu Ji saw Han Su staring at it and laughed.

“You’ve earned decent money from your job. Why not get it treated?”

“If it’s not enough, I’ll lend you some.”

Han Su didn’t reply.

He just stared into the mirror, lost in thought.

Maybe… if the key hadn’t slipped.

Maybe… they both would’ve made it out.

“Han Su, someone’s looking for you.”

Just as he was packing up to leave, a familiar voice called out from the hallway.

Han Su turned and saw a man and a woman standing outside the lecture hall.

The man wore a suit.

The woman wore a white dress and a delicate necklace.

Behind them, their chauffeur carried their bags.

They looked well-off, clearly from a wealthy family.

But their faces were etched with the long-term sorrow of grief—

An air of hopelessness clung to them.

“Shit… not again?”

Han Su hadn’t spoken yet, but Xu Ji’s face darkened.

“It’s been nearly ten years…”

“Xiao Han, Xiao Han, over here…”

Before Xu Ji could finish complaining, the couple had already spotted Han Su and hurried over.

The woman wore a sorrowful yet pleading expression.

She begged, “Please, please don’t be annoyed by us…”

“Have you remembered anything recently?”

“We really mean no harm— We didn’t come to disturb you. We just want to find our Manman. Even if… even if it’s just her remains…”

“…”

Nearby classmates instinctively moved aside.

Everyone knew that Han Su, their college classmate, had been kidnapped as a child.

Dozens of children were abducted with him.

It caused a huge stir, mobilizing the entire city’s investigators.

But in the end—

Only Han Su made it back alive.

He told the police he’d been trapped in a decrepit castle.

The other kidnapped children were there too.

There were monsters in the building that devoured them.

The authorities treated it as an emergency.

They sent in special forces and large police units.

But no castle was ever found.

And certainly no monsters.

Everyone assumed Han Su was just traumatized, hallucinating nonsense.

But the reality was—

All the children vanished that day.

No one saw them again.

No further clues ever surfaced.

Years passed.

Many parents gave up hope and grieved in silence.

But some still came to Han Su, hoping he might recall something useful—

Even if it was just enough to find their child’s remains.

This couple was one of them.

Han Su understood.

After all—

Just minutes ago, he’d tried to get their daughter out.

She really was adorable.

She just… lost her head.