Cucu Chapter Translation
Evelin moved forward through the flickering emergency lights. The murmuring of people coming and going, arguing or moving with nervousness, filled the air along with the desperate sobbing of a woman her husband tried to console in vain. A sharp, metallic tang of blood hung in the air, making the scene even more suffocating.
In the midst of the chaos lay the body of a child... or what was left of one. An unrecognizable mass of flesh and blood that could barely be called "person."
Evelin stifled the urge to vomit. Calling it grotesque was an understatement. She knew—because Uranus had told her—the first child would die. In the original story, it was supposed to be an accident: tragic but believable. Enough to shock the town. Not this. Not such brutal mutilation.
Then, a sound rang in her mind.
🔔 Ding Ding You have found the body of one of CUCU, the cursed clown's, victims. You gain 5 free points for the discovery. An anomaly has been detected in the story. CUCU is extremely altered. You must uncover the reason by visiting the Toymaker's Shop. 5 out of 6 victims remain. You must save at least two to complete your mission.
"The story... changed?" Evelin thought, a chill crawling down her spine.
She remembered the fight hours earlier: kids attacking Uranus, Mitch stepping in. That never happened in the original version. Mitch was scorned, yes, but never physically assaulted. This deviation was too drastic.
A heavy hand landed on her shoulder.
Evelin reacted instantly, drew her weapon and aimed.
"Hey, hey! Relax! It's me, River!"
The man, in his fifties, overweight and with an outdated mustache, raised his hands in peace.
Evelin lowered her weapon with a sigh.
"Didn't know you were so quick," River joked, trying to lighten the tension.
She didn't laugh. Her father had trained her since childhood.
"Get some rest, Linda. Tomorrow we have to interview half the town," said the sheriff, using her character's name.
Before leaving, he handed her something.
"This was found by the body. You're always digging into weird murder stories online... maybe it means something to you."
It was a birthday card. On the cover, a smiling clown. Inside, a message written in red ink:
"YOU'VE BEEN A VERY BAD CHILD... AND BAD CHILDREN MUST BE PUNISHED."
Evelin tucked the card away and returned to her apartment above a coffee shop. Three rooms and a bathroom: modest, but enough.
She needed rest.
That night, she took a hot shower. As the water poured over her body, her mind drifted to a childhood memory.
She was nine, in the woods with her father and a group of men she called "uncles," though they were really her father's squad mates. He taught her how to build small traps for rodents; the others showed her how to start fires and survive in the wild.
She knew her childhood hadn't been "normal" since her mother left, but she hadn't been unhappy. Her father and those "uncles" loved her. It was unconventional, but it was enough.
That night, Evelin stepped into the shower with her body tense and her mind even more burdened. The hot water flowed like a slow cascade, wrapping her skin in a liquid veil that caressed every curve with lover-like precision.
She ran her hands through her hair, raised her arms gently, and let the foam trail down her neck, slipping between her breasts and disappearing below, into the secret warmth of her body. The nearby mirror fogged up with steam, as if even the reflection longed to see more.
She closed her eyes, arching her back slightly, allowing herself to savor the heat. Her fingers traced her neck, down her chest, deliberately slow, sketching invisible paths of soap that melted into droplets upon touching her stomach.
The movement was soft, intimate—a secret ritual, a touch meant only for her... a reminder that her body, after carrying so much tension, still deserved affection.
The water continued down her thighs, along her legs, dripping to her knees. Each falling droplet relaxed her more, as if the shower itself had become an invisible lover, touching her gently, respectfully… yet with restrained desire.
It wasn't vanity. It was necessity. She needed to remember she was alive—and to forget, even briefly, what had just happened.
And for a few minutes… she let herself forget.
When she finished, she felt lighter, though not at peace.
Wearing only a robe, she sat on her couch and opened a notebook. She had to organize what she knew.
The story had changed. CUCU had changed.
According to the original script, as long as no one physically harmed Mitch, the doll would act slowly, methodically. There would be at least a week between deaths.
But this time... everything was accelerating.
Uranus was no longer an option. Trapped in a child's body, he was nearly useless: no freedom, no strength, and inching closer to becoming the next victim.
Evelin thought of the corpse, the scene. She held back the nausea.
This wasn't like hunting animals. This was too much. Even for her.
She knew she had to act. Now.
They were out of options: time for Plan C.
Plan A — delay the killings — had failed from the start. Plan B — force the story to change — was blocked by the system. Only Plan C remained: seal CUCU.
Tomorrow, she'd go to the toymaker.
According to the original plot, he'd always been in the same place—they just didn't find him until the end. Not a villain, but not an ally either. A neutral force… dangerous, but useful.
They'd need all the help they could get.
Evelin went to bed with the light on. She'd never admit it to Uranus… but she was scared. She wanted him there. Just so she wouldn't face this alone.
📍 The next day...
Evelin walked through the oldest part of Short Min Street. Dilapidated houses and nearly empty roads stretched out in silence. Since the 70s, the area had been neglected. Only the elderly or those too poor to move remained.
Few businesses survived—just essential shops.
A perfect place to hide something... Or someone.
Between an abandoned barber shop and a butcher's, she found it.
A toy store. Or something pretending to be one.
The window displays showed wooden toys, puppets, old plush animals. Nothing modern. Nothing flashy. It was quiet.
No one would want to go in.
Evelin took a breath. And stepped inside.
A small bell chimed above the door.
The shop was tiny: four aisles packed with toys. You could see the entire space from any angle. It felt like walking into a dusty memory.
Her hand instinctively went to her weapon. She knew it wouldn't kill anything cursed... But it might buy her a second.
As she walked, pressure grew in her chest. Dozens of invisible eyes seemed to watch her.
Stuffed animals. Dolls. Marionettes. All too lifelike.
And the whispers... Tiny footsteps. Quiet giggles.
She reached the counter. An old man was fixing a nutcracker.
"Excuse me," Evelin said. "I'd like to ask something."
"Welcome, young lady," he replied with a warm smile. "What are you looking for? We have many toys."
"What kind do you sell?"
He showed her items one by one:
"Protective friends," he said, holding up a wooden knight. "Best friends," showing a hand-sewn rag doll. "Dream guardians," lifting a unicorn whose eyes seemed to follow her. "Smiles for dreams," he added, presenting a teddy bear with an unsettling grin.
Evelin forced a polite smile.
"I'm looking for something simpler. It's a gift."
"Hmm... Let's see..." He pulled out a glass box. "Friendship bracelets, heart-linked charms, special keychains..."
She knew everything here was cursed. But also that he, twisted or not, always delivered.
She remembered Uranus's advice:
"Be polite. Watch your words. This man can help you... or destroy you."
"No, thank you. Actually... a friend of mine bought a toy here a long time ago. But he's grown up now, and... he needs to put it away."
The toymaker's smile froze. His eyes turned cold.
A whisper filled the store. Laughter. Groans. Steps.
The shelves trembled.
"We make friends for life here," he said icily. "You want to put a friend... in a box? How dare you."
The shop vibrated. Shadows shifted. Something invisible tugged her coat.
The nutcracker's head turned with a sickening creak.
On the verge of tears, Evelin smiled weakly.
"It's only... temporary. He doesn't want to lose it. He wants to protect it."
The murmurs escalated into chaos.
Then, the toymaker clapped his hands.
Silence.
"Ah… I see," he said, smiling again—but it wasn't kind. "Sometimes, friends don't understand what we must do to keep them safe. Wait right here."
He pulled out a beautifully carved wooden box.
"This is probably what you're looking for. It may resist... but if you're quick, it'll be fine."
"How much does it cost?" she asked, trembling.
He shook his head.
"It's not paid with money. Just... tell me a secret. An old one. One you never told your parents."
His voice filled the room like an ancient curse.
Evelin knew she had no choice.
She leaned in and whispered.
The toymaker's grin stretched—inhuman, grotesque. Like he'd been given a forbidden treasure.
Hours later…
Evelin collapsed into her chair, exhausted.
First, the police shift. Then the cursed store. And now... another child was dead.
Found in a bathtub. Electrocuted. Same card. This time... pinned to the mirror.
The town was falling apart.
Rumors spread that the FBI—or even Interpol—would arrive soon. And when they did... she'd be off the case.
Only four kids left. And if they couldn't save them… It would be over.
She was about to take another shower when—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
She grabbed her gun. She couldn't kill the cursed doll... But she could buy seconds.
She peered through the peephole. Stopped. Lowered her weapon.
Opened the door.
A child stood there, soaked in sweat, gasping as if he'd run for his life.
"Uranus...? What happened?" Evelin asked, tightening her robe.
The boy raised a trembling hand.
He held a card.
The same kind the victims had.
Evelin read it:
"ONLY ONE BEST FRIEND CAN EXIST."
A shiver ran down her spine.
This time… The message wasn't for a corpse.
It was for them.