Pitbabe S2, Chapter 25 pg 3

 Pitbabe S2, Chapter 25 pg 3

   “The victim who stabbed his own neck but survived is the owner of a famous gold shop chain under the Jinpao business network. He’s the sixth-generation heir. From the evidence I’ve received, the fourth and fifth generations had close ties with a high-ranking army officer, with frequent visits. Additionally, Jinpao donates annually to the army’s upstream forest conservation project. Based on the donation amounts, you’d think we’d have reclaimed thousands of acres of forest. But in reality, nothing has changed. The only thing growing is the profit of nearly every Jinpao’s business. However, when the business passed to the sixth generation, these donations stopped, and the relationship seemed to cool. On top of that, this victim often served as an ad-hoc advisor to the opposition party.”

   The viewer count skyrocketed. Dr. Chris even leaned in to check the monitor closely, unsure if the terrifying spike in viewers was real or a system glitch. Judging by his tense expression, it was likely the former.

   “This victim survived but is still hospitalized, under close medical supervision. He can’t communicate due to severe injuries, so we can’t yet determine why he suddenly stabbed himself. Yet, the police closed the case, concluding it was due to a fit of madness, despite the victim having no history of violence, mental health issues, or drug use. It doesn’t add up, but the police seem eager to wrap this up vaguely. I refuse to believe I’m the only one who finds this suspicious.”

   I had no script in hand; all the information was in my head, organized systematically and flowing out in order, like the ticker text at the bottom of a news broadcast. I wasn’t sure if this was due to my sense or just my brain’s normal function. Either way, I was grateful, as it let me perform my role flawlessly. If it was my sense, this would be one of the few times I genuinely appreciated it.

   “Before I share my hypothesis, let me highlight another equally infamous case: the MP from a certain district found dead in a car parked under an expressway. His death had no clear cause, but what made it bizarre was the state of the body. When authorities found it, it was so decomposed it seemed he’d been dead for at least five days—yet his relatives confirmed they’d parted ways just half an hour before being notified of his death.”

   A blurred image of the body appeared on the screen. Even without clear details, the horrific, nauseating sight was palpable.

   “The police and investigators concluded this case as a suicide, which… excuse me, but this is the most shameless and pathetic case conclusion I’ve ever seen. Nothing makes sense. The MP had just returned from a relative’s house, thirty minutes away from the highway where the incident occurred. That means the drive alone took half an hour. So where would he find the time to take pills or gas himself to death? And the state of the body—rotting and oozing like that? There’s no way someone dead for just half an hour would look like that. Yet, the police still used local superstitions as an excuse, turning the case into some unsolvable mystery without even starting a proper investigation.”

   I admit, the more I spoke, the angrier I got. My words came faster, my voice louder, but no one behind the camera tried to stop me. They sat there, eyes gleaming, as if this was exactly what they wanted. They wanted me to be furious, to pour my raw, unfiltered emotions from the depths of my heart. I thought it seemed unprofessional, but in their eyes—especially Dr. Chris’s—this was probably the most effective way to communicate with the public in this situation.

   “Some of you might not remember, but this MP was from the opposition party. In the last no-confidence debate, he was the one who called out the government’s program for supporting and aiding sensers, pointing out its lack of transparency. He exposed forced contracts, the coercion of sensers to use their abilities for the personal gain of those in power, and donations from multiple sources claimed to fund scholarships for gifted senser children. But, as usual, the donor names were the same old familiar ones from the same organizations we all know too well. The money pouring into those accounts was massive, with countless projects written to siphon off the funds, but there’s barely any tangible outcome—except for the project heads whose personal wealth keeps growing.”

   “This isn’t some supernatural mystery. It’s a silencing murder. Anyone who obstructs or tries to expose this chain of corruption gets taken out in unnatural ways. They present the news with conclusions that don’t add up, making it seem like a lazy cover-up. But in reality, they want us to notice the discrepancies.”

   Our current viewership is at 94,000.

   That’s the highest record since I started using live broadcasts to speak and connect with the masses. With this many viewers, there’s no doubt some of them are from the other side. They’re already watching my every move, and right now, their backroom must be in chaos, scrambling to find ways to cut my signal and stop me from talking. That’s why our team’s monitor screens look so tense. Phii North is staring at his screen so hard his eyes might pop out, his hands typing and clicking nonstop. He’s probably fighting with everything he’s got to keep me online until I finish.

   “They’re trying to make this seem vague because they want us to search for answers. They don’t think we’re stupid—they think we’re smart. That’s why they’re dangling bait in front of us.”

   “These strange incidents aren’t just the two cases I mentioned. There are dozens more happening around the same time. All the clues point to a group of people with special senses. They’re deliberately making the public suspicious, encouraging us to dig deeper. The more we uncover, the more they want us to hate and fear sensers, to see them as dangerous, unfit to live equally in our society. Because when society thinks that way, it gives them a free pass to oppress and exploit this group with impunity, letting their corruption cycle run even smoother.”

   On the table in front of me, there’s nothing but the dedicated phone we use for livestreaming, its stand doing the job of my hands, and my personal phone. Its screen suddenly lights up. I glance at it and see a notification from LINE, the familiar white cat icon briefly pulling my focus. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to refocus on the responsibility I need to see through.

   He just sent a single sticker, probably trying to mess with my focus.

   “In public, they claim they’ll help and support people with senses to live better lives, but behind the scenes, they exploit them in every way, oppress them, and manipulate the public to develop negative attitudes toward this group. In reality, we could coexist if the majority would just share a bit of space with us. All we ask for is enough space to live a normal life. Honestly, I think it’s absurd that someone has to demand the right to live an ordinary life—something most people are born with without needing anyone’s permission…”

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