Zombie Kiss Volume 2 Chapter 1 Part4

4

s.h.i.+nabutr

s.h.i.+n sighed as he sat on a soft sofa, waiting to present his photographs to a major television program.

But he sighed not because he was nervous. It was because of his girlfriend.

Lately, her fear and paranoia increased ten folds. If he wasn't in the room, she would never go there alone. Adding to that, she kept asking him every time they meet: 'When will you sell that corpse? Have you found a buyer? Could you hurry up and throw it away?'

Sometimes, s.h.i.+n felt that Da was a ghost pestering him to no end.

Unlike the 'Angel'. Even if she was a corpse, but when s.h.i.+n stayed with her, his heart was tranquil. Da used to feel like that. Gentle and warm.

But now, Da was a paranoid madwoman.

His Angel was a cursed object this, his Angel would bring bad luck that…

I'll prove to you that she isn't something bad!

s.h.i.+n was confident. He had a proof.

Yesterday, when s.h.i.+n was frustrated over Da, someone phoned in. The voice introduced herself as the secretary of a famous TV show producer. Even someone like s.h.i.+n had heard of the name.

She told him that her boss was interested in the Angel's Corpse that s.h.i.+n photographed. He would like to purchase it to be a stage prop. s.h.i.+n agreed, like a cat seizing his prey.

No matter how much he hated these shows that fooled people into believing in the supernatural, he hated himself more for being broke.

More idiots wors.h.i.+pping ghosts is none of his business. If he could gain fame from this, he could make more money.

s.h.i.+n smirked. A voiced called him from behind.

"Mr. s.h.i.+nabutr, this way please."

The woman in a brand name suit called s.h.i.+n before leading him to a room decorated in a modern style. There was a sofa, a television, and a drink bar. Nothing like an office.

A middle aged man waited for him in there. The man was fat. A crafty smiled played on his lips when s.h.i.+n entered the room.

Looks like Pigsy in a grey Armani suit.

s.h.i.+n thought but could not say it.

"h.e.l.lo, you must be Mr. s.h.i.+n. Sit, sit."

The man extended his hand towards the opposite sofa.

His name was Aekaphob, a famous producer that those in the entertainment industry knows too well. Before, he was a producer for a supernatural radio program, and had taken it one step further by entering the world of the television. He earned the nickname 'G.o.dfather of Ghost Shows' not only because he loved collecting strange items, but also because of a rumor that black magic was behind his success.

s.h.i.+n knew the man's personality, so he was one of the first names on a list of possible customers. s.h.i.+n did not expect the man would contact him so soon.

"Pleasant day to you, Mr. Aekaphob."

s.h.i.+n wai the man respectfully, but the other party ignored him and glanced around for something.

"Where's that corpse, Mr. s.h.i.+n?"

"Corpse? You mean the Angel?"

"Yes, yes. Did you not bring her?"

Aekaphob leaned forward with utmost interests. s.h.i.+n could see through his intentions.

This man did not want his Angel for a stage prop in his shows… Aekaphob wanted to keep her for himself.

s.h.i.+n felt disgusted by the man's plan, but he concealed his thoughts with a smile.

"I cannot just lug a corpse around… but if we could agree on her rental price, I'm more than glad to deliver her right to your doorstep."

"Rent?"

The fatty producer wrinkled his brows.

"I thought you are selling her. Well, I will pay five times my original offer."

"I never said I was selling her."

s.h.i.+n said and took a stapled stack of papers from his folder.

"This is a lease. I will lend her to you for three months at a time. The price is here, no bargains. If you deny, that's alright with me. Another producer said he wanted my Angel too, so…"

s.h.i.+n spoke. He knew he had the upper hand. That other producer was a lie, but to get the money laid in front of him, he could easily discard his honesty.

Other than that, the man was known to be a hard one to chew. If s.h.i.+n did not use a trick or two, the tables could turn anytime.

"You might know him, Mr. Aekaphob. Your shows are similarly structured. If he got my Angel's Corpse in his show, the ratings would sky rocket.

The moment s.h.i.+n mentioned the other producer, Aekaphob seized the lease.

"If I agree, can I have the corpse delivered immediately?"

"No problem."

When s.h.i.+n replied, Aekaphob took out his pen and signed before writing a cheque. The number had a tail of zeroes behind it.

s.h.i.+n smirked.

If there was a mirror here, his face would be no different from a devil watching someone sign his evil contract.

"Great. Thank you for your cooperation. I will deliver the Angel's Corpse to your house immediately."

Aekaphob

Aekaphob admired the latest item in his precious collection, stored in his large mansion.

It was his pleasure to admire the treasures in this room after work, when he was alone.

The maids and gardeners were here during the day, but n.o.body dared venture near this room.

Because his collection was not of paintings or sculpture; it was what some would cla.s.sify as taboo. It included items a.s.sociated with black magic, like buddha statues, clay sculptures, talismans, meteorites, and Takrut. Other than that, there were also rare items from around the world.

But Aekaphob had never seen something like this before.

After signing the lease, that s.h.i.+nabutr guy delivered the item to him immediately. He saw that item in photographs before, but…

It was nothing compared to the real thing.

Aekaphob was fascinated…no, he was allured by its charm when he saw a young woman, age around 17 or 18, sleeping in a black coffin.

One side of her face was concealed, but she was still beautiful. Her full lips, painted a light shade of pink, her fragile body that fits perfectly in an elegant white dress… she was far from something one could call a 'corpse'.

That's why her owner wouldn't sell her…

As Aekaphob thought of s.h.i.+nabutr, he saw similarities between himself and the younger man. In one or two years, that kid would climb up to become a famous person just like himself. But before that happened, an experienced man like Aekaphob had to teach his young disciple that in the entertainment world, it's survival of the fittest.

Aekaphob sent the lease to his personal lawyer. If he found an opening in the agreement, the rights to own the Angel's Corpse would be transferred to Aekaphob.

Why am I so attracted by the Angel's Corpse…?

It's true that if he put her in his TV shows, the fans, the lottery maniacs, and the ghost wors.h.i.+ppers would flock around him.

Even though many people wanted this country to stop believing in something that doesn't exist and use their heads to think for themselves…

But Aekaphob was against that thought. Because their blindness and credulity brought him tremendous amount of money.

However, money was not the reason he wanted the Angel's Corpse so much.

He collected items like k.u.man Thong, Luk krork, or Makkaliphon, but he never had a full fledged corpse in his collection, no matter how powerful any corpse may be. In the end, the corpses rot and wither away, becoming useless.

But… the Angel's Corpse will be beautiful for eternity…

The producer thought as he exited his collection room. He headed to the drink bar even though it was almost midnight.

He poured whiskey into a gla.s.s filled with ice, then gulped down the amber liquid in one go. As he drank, his hands flipped his health checkup results.

He reddening eyes stared at a graph showing his blood pressure, liver condition, and heart condition. All of those were in bad shape.

Aekaphob felt as if G.o.d had played a trick on him

He was never sick. The first time he fainted during filming was the time he knew he had cirrhosis and was likely to have a heart failure. The doctor could not help but told him to take care of his health and prescribed him with ridiculously overpriced medicine.

Why…?

Why did G.o.d decide that he should die so soon…?

Aekaphob thought and drank his fourth shot of whiskey.

He was depressed and paranoid. He knew he was afraid of death, but before he died, he wanted a memorial. Something others could remember him by.

But a statue or a photograph was not enough for him to remain on this world. No matter how famous he became, in four or five years, his legacy would fade into oblivion as if he never existed.

That might be the reason he was so attracted to the Angel's Corpse.

Beautiful…

Charming…

He wanted to know who made her.

Aekaphob wanted to find out what kind of method preserved her beauty.

When time comes, he would ask the guy to preserve him, just like the Angel's Corpse, no matter how much it would cost.

After he died, he wanted to exist forever.

No matter what…

Creakkk….!!!

As Aekaphob got sleepy by his sixth shot of whiskey, he heard a noise from the second floor. It was coming from his collection room.

What? Did I not close it properly?

Aekaphob looked at the second floor.

Thud…thud…thud…thud…!

Who? Who's walking upstairs?

He heard light footsteps on the second floor. It sounded like something dragging his or her feet across the floor.

But n.o.body was in the house besides him. If he wasn't hearing things, there was only one possibility.

A thief!

The second he thought of that, he grabbed his gun from its hiding place and headed to the second floor. Others would think his collection was haunted, but Aekaphob knew it was a hoax. For thirty years of meddling in the black magic world, he never experienced any supernatural events.

When he reached the second floor, the door was ajar. He leapt inside and pointed the gun around.

But n.o.body was there…

"How is this possible…?"

In front of the dark, cold room filled with haunted items, Aekaphob was pale as never before.

And then…

Thud…thud…thud…thud!

The footsteps echoed again in the silent hall.

It's heading straight towards him.

Aekaphob swallowed. He had his back to the door and listened to the approaching footsteps.

It crawled towards him slowly. It wasn't careful and alert. It was just crawling, crawling…

As if that person was walking absentmindedly.

Not a thief…

Then who…?

Thud!

The unknown stopped in front of the gaping door. Fear binded the man's body, and he was unable to move. Only his heart throbbed, sending chills to his every cell.

'It' was staring at him.

He did not turn around. He did not know 'what' was behind him, but he felt like a deer stared at by a lion.

A prey confronting the predator…

"Ah…ah…"

The 'thing' made a noise. Its voice was coa.r.s.e, like an unused vocal cord. It tried to say something but could not. Instead, it stepped towards him slowly.

"N…No…stop there…"

Aekaphob pleaded. His eyes felt like they were going to pop out from their sockets.

It came nearer…nearer…

Don't turn around!

His instincts warned.

If he turned around, he would definitely see 'it'.

If…If I see it, I will…

I wil…d…di…

A white skirt was visible from the corner of his eyes.

A familiar…skirt…

"That's absurd…?! It…"

Aekaphob's words were stuck in his throat. Sweat trickled down his back as he gazed upon the open coffin. The flowers were all there, but…

The…Angel's Corpse…was gone…

Grab!

An icy hand seized his neck.

And Aekaphob turned around.

The next day, newspapers all over the country had the same headline.

[Ghost TV show producer died from heart attack]

The picture in the article did not have any censors. It depicted a corpse without any injuries, blood, or gus.h.i.+ng innards.

But his dead face was more terrifying than any horror movie.

His bulged eyes were gaping open, his pupils rolled back, the muscles on his face drew themselves taut into a silent scream. His disfigured finger stretched out as if to fend off something.

Something that made him frightened to death?!

But when the police investigated, there was nothing that could make the man so scared he had a sudden heart attack that led to a heart failure.

Those who knew this producer's tastes thought he died from a curse.

Years later, people still debated on what caused his heart attack. It was a mystery described in every book on supernatural events, even though the man himself was dead for years…

A memorial that he existed, just like he wanted…

[Explanation:

k.u.man Thong is an unborn fetus removed from its mother. The fetus was then roasted, covered with gold (hence the name k.u.man Thong, lit. Golden Little Boy), then invoked and adopted. They could help their caretakers with all sorts of thing, from blessing them to harming their enemies.

Takrut is an amulet for protection that originated in Thailand.

Luk krork (couldn't find the exact transliteration in English) is a fetus that died naturally in its mother's womb. It is believed that give offerings to the Luk Krork and the parents will be protected by the G.o.d residing in the baby.

Makkaliphon are trees that bear fruit in the shape of young females, enjoyed by heavenly beings.]

>>