63-64

Chapter 63: Demon Gloves

"Justin, why are you here?"

"Because I couldn’t wait to see you, Jesse."

Carrying the [Suitcase] he had just redeemed from the system, Allen stepped into a bathroom stall.

He had barely shut the door when the bathroom’s entrance swung open, and a conversation began between two people.

“You shouldn’t have come, Justin. We’re already over...”

“Why, Jesse? We loved each other. Why did you choose to end things? What did I do wrong?”

“You know, Justin, the one thing I can’t stand in this life is betrayal.”

“I’ve already explained, Jesse. That was just a misunderstanding. I didn’t do anything to betray you. You know I only love you.”

Inside the stall, Allen listened to the argument outside, his expression growing somewhat perplexed.

Judging by the content alone, it seemed like a typical spat between lovers.

But if both voices belonged to the same gender, it became... a little more intriguing.

In fact, as soon as the first speaker had started talking, Allen had recognized his identity.

Jesse Tyler Ferguson—the actor who played Mitchell Pritchett in Modern Family, portraying one half of a gay couple in the show. It was evident that, like his on-screen role, Jesse was openly gay in real life. This wasn’t uncommon in progressive Hollywood.

Although conservative factions among the public vehemently opposed this, Hollywood’s liberal elite continued to champion LGBTQ+ support.

Even so, such support often remained superficial.

Actors who came out often found their careers becoming “slightly” more challenging.

After all, while producers might profess support for LGBTQ+ love and marriage, they didn’t necessarily extend that to professional backing.

Hollywood was teeming with talent. Casting someone else “for commercial reasons” came off as a purely business decision, not an act of discrimination.

Inside the stall, Allen’s lips twitched slightly as he listened to the escalating argument outside.

While mentally remarking on Hollywood’s peculiarities, his gaze fell once again on the [Suitcase] in his hand.

Bursting out to interrupt the quarreling couple would only make things awkward.

Better to open the suitcase and see what was inside.

Having made up his mind, Allen wasted no time. He unlatched the miniature [Suitcase] in his hands.

Inside, there wasn’t the golden glow or dramatic fanfare he’d imagined.

Instead, the case contained a pair of somewhat eerie-looking gloves.

Reaching in, Allen retrieved the gloves.

Their cold, smooth texture caused the hair on his arms to stand on end.

The sensation was unsettling, akin to touching actual skin.

Suppressing his discomfort, Allen examined the gloves.

The gloves were blood-red, with dark veins visible on the surface. If one looked closely, it almost seemed as though blood was flowing through them. The tips of the gloves were adorned with sharp black claws that gleamed ominously under the bathroom’s dim lighting, exuding a sense of menace.

As soon as Allen picked up the gloves, the system’s fractured data panel displayed a series of crooked, distorted characters:

*[Item: Demon Gloves]*

*[Effect: Transfer]*

*[Description: Wear them, and your hands will no longer suffer harm.]*

*[Note: They once belonged to a demon. Now, they belong to you.]*

*[Note 2: Both gloves must be worn simultaneously to activate the transfer ability.]*

*[Note 3: Demon power isn’t harmless. Avoid prolonged use.]*

“Demon Gloves, huh?”

“The name fits,” Allen muttered as he read the item description.

“Capable of transferring injuries inflicted on the hands...”

His gaze flickered as curiosity got the better of him. He decided to put them on.

The moment his skin made contact with the gloves’ interior, a cold and slimy sensation slid across his hands. He resisted the urge to pull back, flexing his fingers instead. The gloves clung to him like a second skin, leaving no room for looseness.

“They adjust to fit the wearer?”

Murmuring to himself, Allen raised his gloved hand. Gently, he used his left hand’s clawed fingertip to press against his bare arm.

The sensation registered clearly—there was no effect on unprotected parts of the body.

Lowering his gaze in thought, Allen pressed the claw against his gloved hand instead.

No sensation at all. It was as if the claw weren’t touching his own hand.

Intrigued, he pressed harder.

The glove’s surface dented under the pressure, but Allen still felt nothing.

“Ah…”

A sudden yelp from outside interrupted his experiment.

“What’s wrong, Jesse?”

“I don’t know. My hand just started hurting,” Jesse replied, inspecting a red mark on the back of his hand.

“So, this is the Demon Gloves’ pain transfer ability?”

Allen’s expression grew thoughtful as he listened to the voices outside.

He released his grip and moved the claw to the palm of his other gloved hand, pressing down firmly.

“Ah!”

Another pained cry echoed in the bathroom.

“What’s wrong, Justin?”

“My palm... it suddenly hurts!”

“Oh my God! Justin, your hand is bleeding. Let’s get you bandaged right away!”

The argument forgotten, Jesse hurriedly led his boyfriend out of the restroom.

“So, the transfer target is random?”

Inside the stall, Allen nodded in realization as the bathroom door closed behind them.

---

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 64: Continuation*

Inside a bathroom stall, Allen fiddled with the *Demon Glove* on his hand. Through a few simple experiments, he had roughly figured out the extent of its capabilities.

In short, the glove had the ability to transfer any damage—at least the pain and injuries he had inflicted so far—onto others. However, the target of the transfer was neither fixed nor decided by the wearer’s will; it was entirely random, choosing someone nearby.

For instance, the sharp pain Allen felt on the back of his right hand earlier was transferred to Jesse Tyler Ferguson outside the bathroom.

Similarly, the stab on his left palm ended up being transferred to Jesse’s boyfriend, Justin.

This randomness didn’t have a significant impact on Allen, the glove’s wearer.

After all, random meant random—he had no control over who bore the brunt of the pain.

What intrigued Allen, however, was the glove’s upper limits for damage transfer.

Would extreme conditions, such as severe burns or freezing cold, also fall within the scope of the *Demon Glove’s* abilities?

A fleeting image of dipping his gloved hand into molten iron flashed through his mind.

He quickly shook his head to dispel the thought, which was even more “demonic” than the glove itself.

Despite the glove’s ability to protect its wearer, the protection wasn’t without cost. Someone else always had to endure the transferred damage. Given the randomness of this mechanism, there was no guarantee that the chosen person would be a suitable recipient.

“This seems like another tool that requires cautious use,” Allen muttered to himself, shaking his head as he reached to remove the glove.

He’d spent enough time in the bathroom; it was time to leave.

“Hmm?”

However, as his fingers touched the glove, he noticed that it seemed to fit more snugly than before. Without careful inspection, he couldn’t even feel the seam where the glove met his wrist.

“So this is what the system’s warning about prolonged wear was referring to?”

Using his fingernails, Allen finally removed the glove, which looked like it was flowing with fresh blood. His mind recalled the system’s warning details.

“Indeed, nothing I’ve obtained from the *Wandering Merchant* is ever normal.”

He chuckled wryly, ignoring the fact that the character’s bizarre traits were entirely his own design.

If the *Wandering Merchant’s* items were weird, Allen, as the scriptwriter for this character, bore much of the blame.

---

“Clearly, the primary cause of the ‘Joker Shooting’ incident in downtown New York lies in our neglect and indifference toward marginalized groups. It is precisely this apathy that drives them to make extreme choices, ultimately leading to such tragedies,” said one official during a press briefing.

“The New York City government is introducing new regulations to strictly manage the use of nitrous oxide, commonly known as ‘laughing gas.’ Any misuse will be explicitly prohibited, and violators will face legal consequences.”

A city council member also expressed concern for those affected by the incident, urging the federal government to enact legislation to compensate the victims.

Although the shooting was over, its ripple effects were far from resolved.

Online debates over the cause of the mass hysteria continued.

The federal government, however, insisted that nitrous oxide was to blame. Media outlets reinforced this narrative, ensuring the public accepted it as fact.

“It seems the federal government is still sticking to its policy of concealing supernatural phenomena.”

Watching reports across various media outlets that cited “expert opinions” to attribute the laughter to nitrous oxide, Allen smirked. Being the orchestrator of the entire incident, he knew the true cause. Otherwise, even he might have believed the official version.

The uniformity of the media’s coverage was striking—a rarity except during times when they rallied behind political figures like the “Orange Man.”

Despite claims of press freedom, major media outlets were inevitably influenced by their owners’ agendas.

Moreover, it would be a mistake to overestimate the independent thinking of the American public.

As a capitalist society led by elites, most Americans lived far removed from the upper echelons. Many spent their lives relying on a single news source, effectively brainwashed into accepting its narrative as gospel.

This explained why, years later, some would seriously consider drinking disinfectant to combat a pandemic after a certain someone suggested it.

---

“What do you think of this idea, Allen ?”

“Allen ?”

On the set of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2, James Wan proposed his script revisions, noticing Allen’s absent-minded expression. He repeated his question.

“Oh, I think your suggestion is great.”

Snapping out of his thoughts, Allen quickly nodded in agreement.

“I need your honest opinion, Alan. After all, you’re the real screenwriter of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2,” James said seriously.

James Wan’s professionalism and dedication to horror movies were beyond question.

“If you truly want to make changes, perhaps you could explore the dynamic within the killer’s family. After all, this is a unique clan of murderers. They’re terrifying and gory, yet there’s a twisted sense of familial bond among them…”

Seeing James Wan’s earnest demeanor, Allen set aside his wandering thoughts and offered some genuine suggestions for the script.

Most of his ideas, of course, were borrowed from iconic horror movies in his original world.

Still, to James Wan, these ideas were groundbreaking.

“You really have a gift for horror films, Allen ,” James murmured in admiration as he immediately began revising the script to incorporate Allen’s suggestions.

Meanwhile, Allen glanced at the newspaper on the table.

In a small corner, a short article mentioned an abandoned mining town in Pennsylvania.

(End of Chapter)