I Created Urban Legends in Parallel World
[Original – YakuMan]
[TL – MiT7]
[PR – Spades]
Chapter 7: The Second Urban Legend
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An hour later, the Ghost Club was filled with a warm, lively atmosphere.
Though Kota and Hideki initially saw Kaito as a rival, they were just simple high schoolers. After some chatter, they hit it off, quickly becoming buddies.
Sure, they'd joked about winning over Shinkawa Chie, but it was mostly talk—they were just smitten with her looks. Now that her childhood friend had joined the club, their hopes quietly fizzled out.
After all, otaku are pure and kind at heart.
In the harmonious vibe, the group soon found themselves deep in conversation.
"By the way… did you guys hear about what happened yesterday?" Uesaki Kaito noticed Chie struggling to join in and pulled out his phone, jumping in. "A girl jumped off a building and killed herself."
"Isn't that pretty common?"
"I think Japan even has a 'suicide hotspot' or something."
"No, this is different." Kaito placed his phone on the coffee table so everyone could see. "This girl was wearing a red dress and red boots when she jumped."
"Red dress and red boots?"
That piqued their interest.
Red clothing wasn't unusual, but wearing it for a suicide? That was odd.
"According to the forums, she was bullied and couldn't take it anymore, so she did something drastic."
"Ugh, she jumped in Meguro Ward. Shinji, don't you live there?"
"Yeah, it was in Meguro Ward. I passed by the scene on my way home yesterday."
At that moment, Kamihara Shinji took off his headphones. He'd been writing for an hour and was ready to give his brain a break. Overhearing the talk about the girl's suicide, he chimed in.
Glancing at the photo, he added casually, "I'd suggest you avoid talking about this stuff." Noticing their curious stares, he continued, "Think about it—who dresses like that to kill themselves? Someone who does that was probably deeply hurt, physically and psychologically, before they died."
"So… she dressed like that to curse the people who hurt her?"
"Something like that," Kamihara Shinji nodded.
In his previous life, a big Weibo influencer had explained this kind of thing.
Many onlookers didn't get why suicides happened in crowded places—wouldn't a remote spot be better? But they missed the point. Some people who took their lives had been so battered by pressure and pain that they saw no other way out. Dying in public was their way of drawing society's attention.
They hoped the world would help them seek justice.
And a girl like the one in the photo, dressed that way? She was likely carrying immense resentment.
Alive, she might not have dared to act. But in death, she hoped to become a vengeful spirit to exact revenge. Why else would she dress like that?
This was one reason Kamihara hadn't lingered at the scene yesterday. Better safe than sorry—believe it might be true rather than assume it's not.
After all… wasn't his notebook all about creating monsters?
The thought stirred something in him as he looked at the photo, but he didn't say more. Checking the time, he stood. "It's getting late. I'm heading home."
"Let's go together!"
Soon, Kamihara Shinji parted ways with the club members at the school gate. But just a few minutes later, in a narrow alley, he spotted three third-year students in Sakuraaki High uniforms cornering a first-year.
"Hey!" Kamihara called into the alley.
The three seniors turned, their expressions shifting. "Kamihara?"
"Hisagi, bullying again?" Kamihara Shinji set his backpack down, cracking his knuckles with a friendly smile, like he was catching up with an old pal. "Mind if I join?"
The leader, Hisagi Kento, stiffened. With a cold huff, he motioned to his two lackeys, shooting Kamihara a bitter glare. "Let's go."
As they passed, Kamihara subtly shifted his stance, bumping Hisagi hard enough to make him stumble.
Catching Kamihara's provocative look, Hisagi opened his mouth to curse but swallowed it. His two followers stayed silent too.
They were third-years—they'd crossed paths with Kamihara plenty of times. And landed in the infirmary more than once because of it.
Kamihara Shinji was notorious in Sakuraaki High's delinquent circles. Why? Back when he was a first-year freshman, these three had dragged him into this very alley, trying to extort money.
Instead, Kamihara had taken them all on—one against three—and sent them straight to the hospital. He'd gotten banged up pretty bad himself, too.
Back then, he'd just lost his dad and was in a dark place.
When someone came looking for a fight, he didn't hold back. Though he was fit, he was still just a regular guy—one-on-three was his limit.
After that, Hisagi Kento had rallied other delinquents to jump him. But every time they beat Kamihara down, several of them walked away hurt.
Eventually, they decided he was too tough to mess with and left him alone. Some even admired him, trying to recruit him into their crew—only to get beaten back.
The delinquent crowd at Sakuraaki High pegged him as a lunatic.
When Kamihara Shinji crossed over and inherited those memories, he'd been genuinely impressed by his predecessor. And with the notebook's one-month lifespan looming over him, he'd been under immense pressure.
Fighting was sometimes a way to blow off steam, so over the past month, he hadn't gone easy on these punks.
Seeing Hisagi back down, Kamihara smirked. "Boring."
As the three left, he grabbed his backpack and walked off without ever glancing at the kid they'd been harassing.
"Thanks…"
By the time the first-year, Koyama Tsutomu, looked up, the alley was empty. Clutching his backpack, he stepped out, catching only Kamihara Shinji's retreating figure.
By the time Kamihara took the train back to Meguro Ward, he'd all but forgotten the incident.
Or rather, his mind was consumed by something else.
Back home, he went to the study, opened his computer, and looked up details about the girl in the red dress and boots who'd jumped yesterday.
He'd been unsure how to craft his second urban legend, but something had clicked during the club meeting. On the way home, he'd fleshed it out.
With that, Kamihara Shinji opened the notebook on his desk.
He flipped to a blank page, picked up a fountain pen, dipped it in ink, and began to write.
"On April 8, 2020, at midnight…"