The Indomitable Klaus Whitlock

CHAPTER 4

The mortuary was eerily silent, save for the faint hum of the air vents. The fluorescent lights flickered, casting shadows along the cold, sterile walls.

Then, the mortician’s face twisted in sheer terror. His breath hitched as his eyes darted toward the funeral table.

“G-Ghost…” Francis stammered, his voice barely a whisper. His body went rigid, his eyes rolling back—then he collapsed, hitting the floor with a dull thud.

Klaus, crouched nearby, rubbed his chin thoughtfully. His pulse remained steady, but his mind was already calculating his next move.

Footsteps.

Voices drifted from the hallway, growing louder by the second. He had to hide. Without hesitation, Klaus slipped beneath the nearest funeral table, pressing his body against the cold tile.

The door creaked open.

A group of people entered, their movements crisp and deliberate. Among them was a stern-faced man in a white lab coat, his sharp eyes scanning the room. Beside him stood an elderly gentleman with nearly silver hair and a neatly trimmed goatee, his expression weighed with grief. A young woman with radiant blonde hair lingered near the doorway, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

Their attention immediately fell on the unconscious mortician sprawled across the floor.

The pathologist sighed in frustration, striding over to Francis. Without ceremony, he gave the man a sharp kick to the ribs.

Francis jolted awake with a gasp, his arms flailing as he scrambled upright. He looked around wildly, panic still fresh in his eyes.

The pathologist scowled. “Why the hell are you lying on the floor?”

Francis swallowed hard. “Uh… I— I thought I saw a ghost.” His finger trembled as he pointed at the now-empty funeral table.

The pathologist followed his gaze, then snorted. “Nonsense. If you’re done wasting time, go fetch the other body. I need to begin the autopsy.”

Francis hesitated, his heart still hammering against his ribs. He wanted to protest, to explain that what he saw was real, but he knew better than to argue with his already-irritated superior.

It’s impossible. What I saw… it’s impossible.

With a slow nod, he turned on his heel and left the room.

Minutes later, he returned, pushing a gurney with a black body bag atop it. The elderly man’s expression darkened, grief flickering in his weary eyes.

“Sir, I still believe you shouldn’t look at the body,” the pathologist murmured cautiously.

The old man’s voice was firm. “Show me. Now.”

With careful precision, the pathologist unzipped the bag, revealing the lifeless form of a middle-aged man. His chest bore a deep purple bruise, a grim sign of shattered ribs.

“The impact was devastating,” the pathologist explained. “The car crumpled inward, crushing his ribcage. Death was instant.”

The elderly man inhaled sharply, his grief barely contained. “And the passenger?”

“The other victim is in the cold room. If you wish to see him—”

“There’s no need,” the man cut in, his voice thick with sorrow. He turned away, blinking rapidly. “I just… I just want to understand how this happened to my son.”

The blonde woman, standing stiffly near the wall, exhaled shakily and stepped out of the room, unable to bear the sight of her brother’s corpse.

The pathologist hesitated before speaking again. “I sincerely hope the authorities investigate this thoroughly. It’s… strange.”

The elderly man lifted his gaze. “Strange how?”

“The crash was severe—so severe that both vehicles went off the bridge. Normally, the iron railing would have prevented that.”

The air in the room grew heavier.

“But,” the pathologist continued, “the section where the accident occurred was mysteriously cut—as if someone had deliberately weakened it.”

A slow, chilling realization crept into the old man’s face.

“Are you saying…”

“I’m saying this may not have been an accident.”

The words lingered, thick and suffocating.

The pathologist sighed, running a hand down his face. “Let’s step outside for some air. This is a lot to process.”

As they exited the room, Klaus remained motionless beneath the table, his mind racing.

Then—

A purple screen flickered into existence before him, its glowing text sending a chill down his spine.

[Mission: Escape the Mortuary in 5 minutes]

[Condition: Avoid being seen]

[Reward: Level Up]

[Penalty: Death]

Klaus’s breath caught in his throat.

Death?

A slow, bitter laugh escaped him.

“Are you serious?” he muttered under his breath.

The countdown had already begun.

The city stretched out like a vast chessboard of concrete and steel. From the towering skyscrapers to the dimly lit alleyways, everything felt calculated, deliberate.

Gabriel stood at his desk, hands pressed against a stack of police reports. He had a nagging suspicion about the accident. Something about it felt off—too precise, too unnatural.

A hit-and-run? No.

It felt like murder.

A shiver ran down his spine.

He had yet to examine the second body, and his gut told him he needed to. Now.

Meanwhile, Back at the Mortuary

The cold air stung Klaus’s skin as he moved swiftly, his hospital gown barely clinging to his form. He zipped up the body bag containing Mr. Lawson—the third victim—hiding within it for cover.

With calculated movements, he slipped past the security cameras and into the bitter night air.

A soft purple glow pulsed in his vision.

[Host has successfully escaped unnoticed]

[Perception Level Up!]

Klaus exhaled. He was out. He was free, He needed clothes.