Chapter 12: Uncle Brandon (2)

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

“That’s my line. Get a hold of yourself, Professor!”

“Get a hold of myself? Anyone listening would think I’ve lost my mind.”

Elaine’s sudden words were so out of the blue that I frowned.

No matter how close Elaine and I had gotten while experiencing the cursed infinite loop together, treating someone like they’re insane the moment you meet them is just plain rude.

But despite my clearly displeased reaction, Elaine didn’t back down.

Instead, she urgently pressed me again.

“Please, wake up, Professor Allen. Think carefully about what you’ve been talking to until now!”

Her tone was like she was scolding me, yet her voice was low enough not to be heard by others.

It wasn’t out of consideration for those around us— but it was more like she was desperately trying to stay quiet, as if terrified of being overheard.

…Like I’d done something terribly wrong.

Half-suspicious, I turned my gaze back toward the counter.

More precisely, I examined the “baker” behind the counter.

What’s supposed to be strange here?

That old, corpse-like purplish-black skin.

That grotesque mouth, lined with rows of shark-like teeth torn open all the way to the ears.

Nothing strange at all…

Fwoosh—!

[Name: ???]

[Classification: Urban Legend]

[Gift: ???]

[Description: An urban legend that has taken root in the Everlight Academy’s cafeteria. It contaminates the minds of visitors, making them perceive it as a normal baker. Further investigation is required to obtain more information.]

I could almost hear the blood draining from my face.

The moment I observed the baker, a translucent status window appeared before my eyes, and the distortion in my perception was undone.

“What the fu —”

“Is something the matter…?”

“Ah, n-no. It’s nothing.”

As I locked eyes with the monstrous baker, I barely held back the curse that was about to spill out of my mouth and managed to stammer out a vague reply.

“Actually, I’m really sorry, but one of the students from the academy had a question about the lecture material, so I need to speak with them for a moment. I’ll be back shortly, if that’s alright?”

“….”

“O-of course, I won’t be long.”

The monstrous baker stared silently at me.

…Surely, it won’t try to kill me now, right?

“Very wellllll… But our main branch’s bread is quite popular, so please return quickly before we sell outttt…”

The monstrous baker, who had been staring at me with a completely blank expression, soon let me go with that same courteous smile— one that, now that my perception filter had lifted, was nothing short of horrifying.

Popular, my ass.

There are only two items on the menu, and both look absolutely revolting!

Fortunately, the monster seemed to believe me when I said I’d be coming back, and let me leave without resistance.

I was able to step outside the cafeteria with Elaine.

.

.

.

“Ugh…!”

As soon as I stepped out of the snack shop and breathed in the fresh air, the nausea I had been holding back hit me all at once.

It still felt like the sickening stench of blood and the groans of the students were clinging to my ears.

How could I have ever perceived that horrific place as a cozy, upscale bakery?

And the students groaning inside the shop…

Was it already too late to save them?

Thankfully, my stomach was empty, so I didn’t end up vomiting anything.

After dry heaving for a while and finally regaining my composure, I asked Elaine,

“What on earth is going on here?”

“That’s what I’d like to ask you. I went to find you as soon as lunch started, and you were tangled up in something weird… And why is something like Mr. Brandon here?”

“Wait, Mr. Brandon? You know what that thing is?”

When I showed my confusion, she looked back at me as if wondering how I didn’t know.

“You really don’t know about Mr. Brandon? It’s a super famous urban legend.”

“Oh, super famous, huh?”

“I’m actually more surprised you don’t know about Mr. Brandon, Mr. Allen. How can someone your age have never heard of it?”

“You live a hectic life starting your own business at a young age—things slip by. Anyway, just explain this Mr. Brandon legend to me.”

“You’re really making me work, huh?”

Though Elaine sighed at that, she still earnestly began explaining about Mr. Brandon.

Mr. Brandon.

As with most urban legends, Brandon was originally human.

A long time ago, there was a man named Brandon who loved baking more than anything in the world.

Kind and gentle, Mr. Brandon baked delicious bread every day, and his bakery gradually became more and more popular.

But someone, envious of his apparent success, assumed he must be wealthy. One day, a robber broke into his bakery.

However, Brandon, who barely made any profit and simply baked for the love of it, didn’t have much money.

Furious, the robber shouted, “If you love bread so much, I’ll make you eat it until you die!” and stuffed bread into his mouth.

So much bread was shoved into his mouth that it tore at the corners, and in the end, he couldn’t breathe and died of suffocation.

With such a bitter death, Mr. Brandon became a ghost— and continued his work as a baker even after death.

But now, he only makes two things.

Red cookies and white candies.

If someone says they want to buy a red cookie, he makes cookies soaked in the blood from their severed limbs.

If they say they want a white candy, he plucks out their eyes and turns them into candy.

According to some versions, these red cookies and white candies symbolize the tortures the robber inflicted on Brandon while demanding he reveal where the hidden money was.

And to this day, Mr. Brandon, unable to let go of that grudge, repeats the same torture on any customers who visit his bakery.

That was the end of Elaine’s explanation.

My first thought after hearing the legend?

“Red cookies, white candies… sounds like a rip-off of something else…”

“Rip-off?”

“Never mind. You wouldn’t know.”

“What is it?”

After hearing Elaine’s explanation, I turned my head slightly to peek back into the snack shop.

Peeking cautiously into the school store, there, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, was the very ghost story itself— its face a murky shade of purplish-black, and its mouth torn all the way to its ears.

I fought the urge to look away from the grotesque figure and forced myself to observe it.

[Name: Uncle Brandon]

[Category: Urban Legend]

[Gift: ——]

[Traits: A well-known urban legend settled in the Everlight Academy’s snack shop. It contaminates the minds of those who visit the shop, making them perceive it as an ordinary baker. Presents visitors with a choice between a red cookie and a white candy, and brutally murders them based on their choice. Said to possess enough physical ability to kill a regular adult male with ease.]

Thanks to the information,

The information about the urban legend displayed on the status screen was updated based on what I heard from her.

I think I’m starting to get a rough idea of what the gift called “Observation” is all about.

It’s not that simply looking at something causes its information to appear.

Rather, it feels like the status screen updates when I actively think, deduce, and gather information about the subject.

The overall content of the urban legend wasn’t all that scary—it was fairly standard.

A ghost with a tragic past.

An unfair choice forced upon the victim.

No matter what answer is chosen, the result is death.

It’s the kind of widespread, cliché schoolyard tale, similar to stories like the ‘Red Mask’ or ‘Red Paper’, ‘Blue Paper’.

“So, what’s the way to defeat that Brandon guy in the urban legend?”

“Defeat him?”

“If it’s a well-known urban legend, shouldn’t there be a famous method to defeat him? Like asking for a third type of snack— say, a yellow cookie or a blue candy?”

“There isn’t one.”

“…What?”

“If you ask for anything other than the red cookie or the white candy, Brandon gets angry and brutally kills you. If you stay silent or try to buy time, he gets angry and kills you too. Even if you pick a different answer entirely, same result.”

“But you said choosing the red cookie or white candy also leads to death.”

“Yes.”

“Then no matter what you say, you die.”

“No, if you make an excuse like, ‘I forgot my wallet’ or ‘I have to go take care of something and I’ll be right back,’ like Mr. Allen just did, you can escape from Brandon.”

“…But that’s an escape method, not a way to defeat him.”

“That’s why it’s an urban legend.”

What kind of nonsense is that?

Brandon might be called “mister,” but he’s basically just a spoiled brat with hacks.

As I expressed my disbelief at the ridiculous overpowered setup of this Brandon guy, Elaine looked uneasy and asked cautiously:

“…There is a way to solve it, right?”

“You just said no matter what you do, you die. How am I supposed to solve that alone?”

Elaine looked shocked—apparently, she didn’t expect me to say there was no solution.

What exactly were you expecting from me?

I’m just some loser who went crawling into a basement during that time loop urban legend incident.

“But it’s not that there’s no way to solve it.”

“Huh? Didn’t you just say it was impossible…?”

“I told you earlier, right? We don’t have to solve this alone. We don’t need to take on all the risk ourselves.”

If it’s a problem the two of us can’t solve, then we just have to increase the number of people.

That’s what I learned during the time loop incident.

These urban legends may have supernatural powers, but that doesn’t mean they’re completely beyond the laws of physics.

They can be hurt, damaged, or broken if you hit them or attack them with weapons.

According to the description I got through Observation, Brandon only has the physical capabilities of an average adult male—not difficult to overpower for a group of well-prepared adults.

Which implies: the situation changes if more than one unusual adult takes him on.

“So block the entrance to the snack shop and stop the students from going in until I bring people back.”

According to the legend, Brandon sets up inside the snack shop and kills students who approach him.

He doesn’t roam around looking for victims.

So if we block the entrance and keep anyone from going in, we can buy ourselves some time.

“Me? You want me to stop the students?!”

“That’s something you’ll have to figure out on your own.”

“What!? That’s so irresponsible!”

“Then I’ll leave it to you!”

Dodging Elaine’s outstretched hand trying to stop me, I ran toward the academy.