Got Dropped into a Ghost Story, Still Gotta Work

※ WARNING ※

This Chapter contains violent and gory scenes. Reader discretion is heavily advised.

From the moment I saw the store layout, I'd been agonizing over it. Just how much of my body would I have to cut off and place on the grill for this damned supermarket ghost story to count it as 'barbecue'? I considered everything from the wrist to the shoulder.

But from the start, I knew my target.

'My right arm.'

If I cut a leg, I'd lose mobility.

If I cut my left arm, I couldn't use my tattoo.

Besides, I'm almost ambidextrous anyway, so I'd be able to function with whichever arm remained.

In other words, there was only one conclusion.

'Cut off part of my right arm.'

Of course, slicing a fully grown adult forearm, bones and all, measuring around 10cm in diameter with a knife is crazy.

Obviously, it wouldn't be done in a single chop.