Chapter 507 - 448: Mai Mingle - The Maternity Seat

Chapter 507: Chapter 448: Mai Mingle - The Maternity Seat

"Seven—"

’A suitable seat?’ The bus’s broadcast had said to sit in a "suitable seat," but what was the standard for "suitable"?

Mai Mingle frantically scanned the bus for what felt like the dozenth time.

"Six—"

She had been so focused on the broadcast that she had only just noticed.

Most of the seats on the bus were still the same, but as Mai Mingle looked around now, she saw that at least five or six seats had changed—they now had icons and text on them.

On one of them was a drawing of a stick figure in a dress with a large, bulging belly, sitting on a chair.

Clearly, this was a newly designated priority seat for pregnant women.

"Five—"

Ashley had already bolted toward the back of the bus, throwing herself into the seat she had occupied when she first boarded.

Mai Mingle understood the logic: since they didn’t know the standard for "suitable," the seats they had just been in were, logically, the safest bet.

But could a Nest trap really be this simple?

Then again, maybe the bus trap was designed to make people hesitate, to make them indecisive and waste precious time. ’No, I can’t keep going in circles like this.’

"Four—"

Besides the priority seat for pregnant women, there was also a seat for the sick and weak, a seat for children, a seat for the sleep-deprived, and a seat for those on their period. The children’s seat also had an icon, but the others were apparently difficult to represent visually, so they were labeled with text—the back of one seat even read, "Priority Seat for the Mentally Ill."

’It seems like none of those are safe to sit in, right?’

"Three—"

Mai Mingle was running out of time to think. Gritting her teeth, she lunged for the seat she had been in before.

Excluding the designated priority seats, only the unmarked, regular seats were left.

’If I have to pick a regular seat anyway, the one I’ve already sat in has to be safer, right?’

"Two—"

As Mai Mingle fell into her unmarked, regular seat, her heart pounding, she caught a glimpse of the bus’s screen out of the corner of her eye.

The advertisement was, surprisingly, still playing.

It turned out she had misunderstood. The sausage wasn’t pregnant, it just had a tumor in its belly—as Mai Mingle glanced over, she happened to see a line of subtitles: "Thanks to Blue Shield Medical Insurance, we can properly welcome the future."

The person speaking was the man with the bushy beard, who, for some reason, was also wearing a maternity dress.

...Wait a second.

’Is the name of this stop "Pregnant Woman Cursed with an Antonym Spell"?’

"One!"

Before Mai Mingle could react, her entire world plunged into absolute blackness.

She sat frozen in her seat. Even if she suspected she had ultimately chosen the wrong spot, she couldn’t get up and switch seats now.

All sound ceased. The engine, the tires, Ashley’s breathing... everything dissolved into a darkness so complete it felt as if her eyes had been plucked out.

In the deathly silent, pitch-black void, devoid of light and color, time stretched on endlessly.

What felt like several hours passed before she finally heard the sound of the bus door slowly opening. It was as faint as an illusion heard in a deep sleep, barely scratching at the edges of her senses.

The sound was so faint she couldn’t be sure if she had truly heard someone get on the bus.

"This bus will now depart,"

As the bus’s broadcast sounded once more, light gradually seeped back into her vision. The engine’s hum, ambient noises, smells... one by one, they returned to the bus.

"The bus will be unsteady as it starts moving. Until the ride stabilizes, seated passengers are asked to remain in their seats. Newly boarded passengers are asked to find a seat as soon as possible."

...There were several new people on the bus.

One was an old man who looked to be in his sixties, his skin sagging and wrinkled, his neck fat spilling over his collar in folds. Over his shirt, he wore a pastel-yellow tank-top dress. Although his belly was quite prominent, Mai Mingle suspected it was just a beer gut.

The other man, who was in the prime of his life with a firm, fit physique, was different.

His stomach was flat. Even when he pressed one hand to the small of his back and pushed his abdomen forward, he still couldn’t fill out the maternity dress.

"An antonym... is this what it meant?" Ashley said, stunned. "The people getting on are the antonym of ’pregnant woman’? So the ’pregnant women’ boarding are all men?"

"What antonym?"

Mai Mingle looked up at the sound of the voice and only then noticed someone else sitting in the middle of the bus—clearly an ordinary person, perhaps just a random citizen of Blackmoor City. He was still in his pajamas, his eyes heavy with sleep, as if he had just been snatched from his bed and thrown onto the bus.

"How did I get here?" he muttered, not seeming to address anyone in particular. "Did I sleepwalk out of my house? Where is this bus going?"

He seemed to have slept through all of Blackmoor City’s strange events tonight.

Even if Mai Mingle wanted to explain, she wouldn’t have known where to begin.

’Does this bus trap just randomly snatch people wherever it goes?’

The third person in a maternity dress was a "teen mom" who looked like he was still in high school—or would that be a "teen dad"? ’Wait, he’s not pregnant, so he wouldn’t be either, would he?’

As the high-schooler walked past the ordinary man, the latter stared blankly, his eyes fixed on the boy for a long moment.

It was no wonder he was staring; the high-schooler had his hands clasped together, carefully cradling the flat, skinny stomach beneath his maternity dress.

The three male "pregnant women" scanned the bus, but for the moment, none of them sat down.

The three of them huddled together in the middle of the bus, looking like a cluster of plump mushrooms in maternity dresses.

Their three mushroom-cap-like faces swayed with the bus’s movement, but their gazes remained fixed on the other three passengers.

’New passengers got on, but aside from their strange appearances, nothing has happened... Does this mean I chose the right seat?’

The thought had barely crossed Mai Mingle’s mind when the old "pregnant" man suddenly moved. Pressing a hand to his back and thrusting out his beer gut, he walked up to the man in pajamas, nearly shoving his belly right into the man’s face.

"What are you doing?" The man in pajamas flinched back. "Get away from me!"

Not only did the old "pregnant" man not back away, he stepped closer, sticking one leg into the space in front of the seat. This time, it wasn’t just his belly in the pajama-clad man’s face.

"Move," the man in pajamas said, leaning back. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to shove the old man away but was afraid of catching whatever mental illness he had. "What are you—"

The old "pregnant" man’s face was grim, his lips barely moving as he spoke. "Get up. Give me your seat."

"There are so many other empty seats—"

"You’re in a priority seat for pregnant women," the old "pregnant" man said, pulling back into the aisle but still pressing his belly against the seat.

’Is that a priority seat for pregnant women? I don’t think it is, right?’

Mai Mingle’s heart tightened. She was about to shout a warning, but from the back row, Ashley barked a sharp command, "Don’t get up!"

She had somehow brought this bus trap into the world, yet she still remembered to warn a civilian to be safe...

It was almost a deep-rooted instinct, an impulse that remained no matter how contradictory the situation.

"Didn’t you hear? The broadcast told you not to move! Just sit tight and follow the rules!" Ashley shouted.

Being yelled at by her only seemed to annoy the man in pajamas. He grumbled, "Is this whole bus full of psychos?"

He twisted his body awkwardly, as if trying to see if he was actually in a priority seat, but he couldn’t get a clear look without standing up.

The man in pajamas glanced around, clearly not wanting to escalate the situation. He raised his hands as if in surrender and said to no one in particular, "All right, all right. I’ll give up the seat, but I won’t stand up. Is everyone happy now?"

’Give up the seat but not stand up?’

"Wait, you—"

Mai Mingle’s warning was cut short as the man in pajamas lifted his rear and scooted over to the adjacent seat.

The old "pregnant" man smiled slowly, the corners of his mouth sinking into the sagging folds of his skin.

"Like hell it’s a priority seat," the man in pajamas cursed as he turned to look at his previous spot. "You better not—"

He never finished his sentence.

The old "pregnant" man, who had been moving so sluggishly, was now absurdly fast. The pastel-yellow figure flashed between the two-person bench, clearing the first seat and plopping down squarely onto the man in pajamas, as if he were nothing more than a seat cushion.

...What was happening?

If not for the man in pajamas’s throat-tearing scream, his frantic struggles and flailing as he failed to escape from under the old man’s rear, or the fact that he was visibly and rapidly growing thinner, smaller, and gradually sliding under the old man’s body...

...the scene would have been almost comical.

Mai Mingle clamped a hand over her mouth, afraid she would throw up if she let go.

She gripped the seat in front of her, desperately fighting the urge to get up and rush over to help him.

Like an ice pop dropped on the pavement in summer, the man in pajamas shrank, fading from something to nothing, until he vanished completely beneath the old "pregnant" man.

Mai Mingle was in a daze. ’An antonym... is this how it works?’

"Congratulations!" said the sturdy "pregnant" man. "Congrats! Look at that belly, how many months along are you? Is it a boy or a girl?"

The old "pregnant" man slowly grabbed the handrail, stood up, and beamed, his face glowing with health.

His belly was more than twice as large as before.

"Thank you, it’s a boy," the old "pregnant" man said, full of bliss. He walked past his two colleagues and sat down in a seat that Mai Mingle was certain was a priority seat for pregnant women.

The two remaining male "pregnant women" stood where they were, their eyes darting back and forth between Mai Mingle and Ashley.

...If they tried to forcibly sit on her, Mai Mingle would have a hard time resisting, especially since she couldn’t stand up.

However, the two male "pregnant women" didn’t approach.

’Is it because they can only sit on people who break the rules?’

They seemed to know that Mai Mingle and Ashley were not like ordinary citizens and would never break the rules—especially after witnessing the pajama-clad man’s fate. The two whispered to each other for a moment before each found a seat and sat down.

’Strange... the places they sat were regular seats, not priority seats for pregnant women.’

’Is it because they aren’t "pregnant" yet?’

’The antonym of a pregnant woman can’t sit in a priority seat for pregnant women?’

’Wait, if that’s the case, was my earlier judgment correct? Were the priority seats for pregnant women the safest ones after all?’

But the regular seats couldn’t be the "wrong answer" either, or those two "pregnant" men would have sat on them by now.

’There’s something terribly wrong here...’ Mai Mingle frowned, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

"The bus has now resumed a stable speed,"

A man was dead, and now the bus’s broadcast chimed in. "Passengers who need to stand or move about may now do so safely. However, please continue to pay attention to the announcements. The next stop on this route is—"