In the nick of ti, Ming Po pulled his fingers away.
He glanced back at Chizuko and, without waiting for her permission, simply lifted the piano lid back up himself.
Yet, Chizuko remained completely silent throughout.
She did not fly into a rage or offer any explanation. Even after Ming Po raised the piano lid again, she made no move to stop him.
She rely stared at the piano in silence, hollow and lifeless.
She looked like a broken, motionless doll, exuding a dangerous aura.
With just a single thought from her, the piano had nearly co alive to attack Ming Po.
Ming Po blinked, gaining a rough understanding of the true chanics behind this instance.
Chizuko was, in fact, gentle.
Almost all of her attacks were re warnings.
Even the evil-spirit-like "terrifying male mannequin" only wanted to throw him over its shoulder—from his previous angle, it might have just been trying to toss him straight out the window covered in broken glass.
That level of injury would almost certainly not be fatal. At worst, it would result in severe bleeding.
And injuries of that caliber would basically heal the mont one cleared the ga.
Compared to a Zhou's Azure Lead rank ga, this looping chanism seed entirely too simple.
Whether it was the dust-free Russian nesting doll, the strand of hair inside the piano, the torn photograph, or the piano's discordant note—they all clearly revealed the rules of this ga.
What Ming Po needed to do was likely place the torn photograph from the piano back into its fra. After that, he would probably need to use the ring—but essentially, it was a puzzle even an elentary school student could solve.
It was very fitting for Chizuko's age.
To be matched into a ga like this was undoubtedly a stroke of luck.
Both the ga's designer and the participant could share a mutual understanding: get it over with quickly and never see each other again.
This was Chizuko's goal.
She did not want anyone to approach her.
She did not want to converse with anyone, nor did she want to kill anyone.
She would rather wither away slowly inside this confined Paradox space.
"Chizuko."
Ming Po turned around, tilted his head slightly, and looked earnestly into the girl's eyes. "Is this really okay?
"Just staying here... staying here all alone. Not speaking to anyone, not fighting with anyone. Waiting for soone who might never return."
Chizuko turned her head slightly and looked at Ming Po.
She remained silent for a mont before finally speaking.
"That is my mission. It is what I have to do.
"Just like how my father told to practice the piano properly, and my mother told to stay ho and be good. If I had just done everything they said, those unfortunate things would never have happened."
"Are you referring to..."
Ming Po spoke up, his voice soft. "The ti you hid the ring, which caused your parents to fight? Or the ti you injured your finger, which made you perform poorly in an exam or recital?
"None of that was your fault, Chizuko. It was not your father's fault, nor was it your mother's. No one was at fault.
"It was rely a lack of capability, a bad mood, and poor luck."
It was all just a coincidence.
Ming Po stated with absolute certainty.
Every word was true.
And every word was exactly what Chizuko wanted to hear.
Ming Po knew she did not an what she said—even though Chizuko kept talking about her 'mission,' deep down, she utterly despised it. Yet, she felt compelled to obey, or else she could not explain why everything had spiraled out of control so drastically. She also could not accept that this was simply her family's destiny—that would be far too cruel, too inevitable.
But coincidence, chance...
That was exactly the explanation she wanted to hear, but could not formulate herself.
Chizuko's eyes widened as she looked at Ming Po.
A flicker of newfound curiosity sprouted within her withered heart. "Uncle, are you... a prophet? Why do you know everything?"
Uncle?
Ming Po's expression froze for a second before he broke into a gentle smile.
He still thought of himself as being in the 'big brother' age bracket, but it seed he had already crossed into 'uncle' territory.
"Uncle is not a prophet,"
Ming Po said, his voice gentle. "You can think of Uncle as... a teacher."
"Teacher!"
Chizuko's voice beca a bit crisper. "Can I call you that?"
It had lost that hoarse, post-crying quality and sounded much livelier.
"Of course,"
Ming Po said softly.
He patted the seat next to him. Chizuko shifted closer, and the distance between them shrank from two full spaces down to just half a space.
From this distance, Ming Po could clearly see Chizuko's trembling eyelashes. Yet, he could not hear her breathing or feel any warmth radiating from her body.
"How long have you been a Paradox, Chizuko?"
Ming Po asked casually, as if making small talk.
"I don't know..."
Chizuko seed a bit lost as well.
She clearly had no idea how much ti had passed in the outside world, rely trying her best to rember. "All I rember is... the year I beca a Deceiver of the World, China qualified for the World Cup."
Perfect.
If the worldlines had not diverged too much, that should be the year 2002.
Ming Po pinpointed the ti with extre precision.
Which ant...
"It has been over twenty years."
Ming Po exhaled softly, his voice turning even gentler. "It seems... the you on the outside is living a very happy life."
The Chizuko who was still alive should be six or seven years older than Ming Po by now.
"Going by that logic, I should probably be calling you big sister."
Ming Po spoke warmly. "I was born in 1995. What year were you born?"
But despite his comforting words, Chizuko rely lowered her head and remained silent.
Patter.
Tears fell onto the piano keys.
The girl did not answer Ming Po's question.
She was lost, hesitant. Her tiny fists clenched the fabric of her skirt.
Her slightly trembling voice rang out. "Teacher... is she... never coming back?"
Ming Po stayed silent for a mont before answering affirmatively. "Most likely... yes.
"If over twenty years have passed and she has not returned to the Ga of Deception, it ans she is living a very happy life.
"She has no need to return to the Ga of Deception, and no one is plotting against her. She does not hurt others, nor is she hurt by them. For a good person, that is a wonderful thing."
Ming Po's words only made the girl even sadder.
She cried even louder.
Blood seeped from the photographs on the walls, and the piano on the second floor began to play an eerie lody. The entire room distorted like a hallucination—Ming Po felt as though countless entities were staring at him.
But amidst that bizarre sense of danger, Ming Po actually laughed.
He reached out and patted Chizuko on the head.
"Chizuko, do you know?"
Ming Po suddenly spoke, giving voice to the thoughts buried in her heart. "You subconsciously set up this kind of puzzle—which proves that, deep down, you are searching for an answer."
He wiped the tears from the girl's eyes and spoke softly. "An answer that would allow you to give up.
"I happen to know a bit about fortune-telling. Would you like to hear so?"
Ming Po knew that this was exactly the sort of thing little girls her age loved.
Even if they claid not to believe in it, they would still feel excited.
While he did not have Ai Shiping's innate ability to be liked by everyone, perhaps due to his own childhood experiences, Ming Po was surprisingly good at handling girls in this age group.
"Before we do that, tell first... what is your Title?"
Using this topic as a pivot, Ming Po asked patiently.
"It is... [Hell Screen]."
The girl remained silent for a mont before revealing the blood-curdling na.
She said sorrowfully, "This was... passed down to from my father."
A
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