Dreadful Radio Game Chapter 1

Red lips. In such a fascinating night.

This night was all about indulgence.

In the center of the dance hall, men and women were shaking their bodies and dancing to the rhythm of the music. Fair legs, sweaty chests, enchanting females and male hormone, all added up to a crazy fascinating vortex.

In a corner of the dancing floor, there sat a man in Nike sportswear with cigarettes and wine in front of him. The heat and noise around seemed to have no effect on him; he just subconsciously hid his face into the darkness in the dead angle of the lights.

Of course, several hot girls came to invite him to dance, but they were all turned down by his indifferent attitude. He just wouldn't fit into this place.

A white-collar lady in suit suddenly rushed out of the dancing people to the washroom.

Now, the man picked up the cigarettes from the desk, put them into his pocket and stood up to follow her into the washroom, like a hunter who had started to track down his prey after a long wait.

The lady rushed into the washroom and immediately began to throw up at the wash basin. Then, a sour smell spread through the air. The lady turned on the tap, held some water with her hands and splashed it onto her face while washing away the vomit in the basin.

The cold water on her face woke her up for a while from her emotions ignited by the dance. However, when she opened her eyes, she was startled by the figure behind her in the mirror.

"You-"

The lady tried to talk but eventually failed. The man choked her with two fingers, disabling her from creating any audible sounds. The man was well-practiced, as if he was doing something he had done a lot of times; there was no need to do his best—he just let it happen naturally.

At the same time, the man lifted his other hand, which was holding a knife.

"Though I hate nonsense, I have to say this due to the Club's rule: Your sins can escape from common punishment, but not from ours."

"Puff…"

With no more preparation, the knife went into the lady's chest and turned clockwise.

The man pressed the wound with his palm in case blood splashed.

The lady twisted a little, and then fell onto the ground as the man let go of her.

The man started to wash his knife and hands with the running water in the wash basin. After that, he tidied his clothes in front of the mirror.

He was careful and organized.

In the mirror, there was his face—young but pale, good-looking, and with a look of odd excitement. Perhaps it was because he had just killed someone. Killing would always offer him such pleasure.

He was also obsessed with such a feeling; it was irresistible to him, as if he was an addict.

The lady's corpse was lying on the ground with her eyes wide open.

The man took out a small bag from his pocket; it was filled with heroin.

He wasn't using it though; the joy of drugs was nothing compared to that great excitement he felt while killing.

"Crack!"

The small bag was torn open, and heroin was scattered all around her.

Then, the small bag was dropped right beside her.

This nightclub was involved in illegal business, so the man knew that the nightclub owner would not preserve the scene or call the cops when such a corpse with drugs was found.

At last, he looked at the dead lady dearly, took a deep breath and enjoyed the lingering charm of a murder. His face finally went back to normal, and he smiled to himself in the mirror to make sure he was wearing a normal smile instead of a fake one. Then, he opened the door of the ladies' room, moved away the warning sign of "Cleaning In Progress" and walked out.

From beginning to end, he was sure that he had avoided all the cameras or the attention of any other people. Of course, he must have left quite a few traces while doing the murder, but he believed that it would be taken care of by the nightclub owner who was afraid to get involved. At least, the body would be handled, so he would not be worried.

Stepping out of the nightclub, the man shivered in the cold wind, feeling as if he had returned to earth from heaven. True, that nightclub, that washroom and that dead lady; to him, those were the real heaven; it made him feel cozy, a feeling he could only enjoy in those moments.

"C'est la vie. So beautiful."

The man said to himself. His voice was a little husky.

He took out his cellphone, started a taxi app and ordered a car.

Soon, a driver responded, and then called him.

"Hello, is this Mr. Su Bai? Is your location correct? By the side door of Legend Nightclub?"

Su Bai frowned. This app showed his registered full name to the driver, that was disgusting. Now, after releasing his repressed emotions, he became quite sober and lucid. He knew well that tonight his name should be kept away from this place—the further, the better.

"Yes, that's correct."

Su Bai answered and took a look at the time. Then, he pulled up the collar of his sportswear, put on the hood and hid his face except for his eyes.

"Okay, I'm on the way."

The driver hung up, but Su Bai's eyes slightly narrowed.

During the call, the driver was speaking so hurriedly. It was not like the speeding breath after exercises, but an emotional dysfunction caused by a horrible experience.

After killing someone, Su Bai's mind was calm, and he was very sensitive.

Three minutes later, a black Audi pulled over.

The driver was about 30 years old, with messy hair and bread crumbs on his clothes. A typical private car owner making money in the middle of the night. But through the window, Su Bai noticed several cigarette butts were not toed out, still flashing under the driver's seat.

A private car owner working at night, but becoming so careless about his own car. Ordinary people would be loath to let the smoke linger inside when smoking in their cars, but this guy just randomly threw burning cigarettes under the seat.

"Get in, young man." The driver waved to Su Bai with a smile.

Su Bai nodded. Instead of taking the back seat, he went around the head of the car and sat on the passenger seat.

"You have arrived at the location, and the passenger is aboard. Navigation starts now."

The driver expertly started the car and handed over a packet of cigarettes at the same time.

"Do you smoke, bro?"

Su Bai shook his head and took out his own cigarettes.

"I've got my own gear."

"Take mine, it's okay." The driver was quite hospitable.

"No, thanks."

"Come on, don't be shy. Go ahead! Go ahead, smoke! Smoke!"

The driver turned anxious, but he didn't seem to notice his gaffe.

Su Bai nodded and took one cigarette from his packet.

Only then did the driver gladly turn his sight back to the road and continue driving.

In the car radio, a program of Midnight Songs was playing. It was playing Deng Lijun's Sweet. But in the middle of the song, there came some noise.

["Welcome to the Dreadful Radio. I am your host. I have no name, because names have no significance here."]

The driver slapped on the display screen with a bump. "What the heck? Childish."

The driver was about to change the channel; his finger pointed again and again on the touch screen, but nothing happened. It was still fixed on the very channel.

"Is it broken? Did the system stop?"

The driver mumbled as he kept slapping the screen and eventually started knocking on it with his fists.

Su Bai slowly pinched his cigarette, and his other hand secretly clenched upon his knife in his pocket, with which he had just killed a person. This driver was obviously in some unknown mood, which made him think of himself after his first kill. At that time, he was also like this driver.

"This is the ghost story for today. Please get settled and listen carefully.

"In a private car were two men; they met each other through a taxi app. The car owner was a 31-year-old insurance worker, and the passenger was a 22-year-old college student.

"It should be nothing peculiar. It's normal, isn't it?

"Nowadays, a lot of people are working in the insurance business, and such a job is easy. Even if you don't go out for business, just check in everyday and you'll get some money every month. Of course, with no performance, there will not be much money. So the driver has to drive during nights for more income.

"As for the college student, we can tell he is quite excellent, but not very special.

"However, here comes the turning point of the story.

"The driver is a hit-and-runner. He had just knocked down and killed a girl walking across the road and immediately ran away in his car. While he was still in shock, he accepted this order."

The driver stopped in astonishment. He looked at the screen in disbelief, then he managed to turn around and looked at Su Bai on the passenger seat.

In his eyes, Su Bai saw astonishment, panic and hysteria hiding in the deepest part.

The radio was still talking:

"As for the college student sitting on the passenger seat, he's a homicidal maniac. He has to kill someone every once in a while in order to let out the repression in his mind. he has just killed a white-collar lady in the washroom in a nightclub named Legend."

The driver immediately shrunk to the other side of the car. He was now looking at Su Bai as if looking at a monstrous murderer.

Yes, he was a hit-and-runner, but he didn't mean to kill anyone. However, this passenger of his was obviously a psychopathic serial killer!

The radio paused for a second, then the host lowered his voice on purpose:

"Now, let the story come into its boiling point…"

"Bang!"

Both Su Bai and the driver looked at the front window. On the windshield, a girl with a twisted face was lying prone. Half of her face was caved in, but she still stared at the two in the car with her only remaining eye. She was giggling.

Next, Su Bai felt fierce cold from behind him. He quietly turned around and saw a lady sitting in the back seat. There was a bloody wound on the lady's chest, ceaselessly bleeding out black blood.

The lady seemed to have noticed Su Bai's sight. She grinned:

"Ho, ho, ho, ho…"

Chapter end