’So... it really was .’
’There should never have been any doubt. I’m the real Jin Xueli—’
The mont that thought surfaced, it was as if sothing that had been tightly binding Jin Xueli suddenly ca loose.
She involuntarily collapsed to the floor, buried her face in her hands, and began to sob loudly.
She wasn’t sad, nor was she afraid. This bout of crying was more of a release. The anxiety and suspicion from before, the near-death mories of the struggle, the pain and terror of having her throat torn open and her shoulder hacked apart... it all seed to drain out of her body with each sob, leaving behind an exhausted, empty Jin Xueli.
When she finally stopped, the echoes in the exhibition hall gradually faded, and a cold silence returned.
There was not a single trace of the events that had occurred in her mory.
There was no blood on the floor, no fire axe, no gouges chewed into the ground. The art installation made of long wooden planks was still sitting in its original spot, completely intact, and there were no splinters embedded in her face, hands, or feet.
Her hiking backpack lay in a corner of the hall. Jin Xueli walked over and dug out the long towel—it was dry and soft, never having been soaked through with her other self’s saliva.
In this world, besides Jin Xueli herself, no one knew that she had died tonight.
If the resident hadn’t lted the candle after killing her, if it hadn’t changed the history of her encounter with Anthony, she would have remained forever on the cold floor of the underground exhibition hall, gradually becoming a part of the Nest.
A shiver ran through Jin Xueli, as if a deep, dark fear had seized her by the bones and given her a shake.
She walked over to the candle step by step, her sneakers making soft sounds on the floor.
Since the history created by the resident had never happened, the candle before her had naturally never been touched. The creamy white wax was cool and hard to the touch; in the shadow it cast, the fire trough was silent.
2026.5.19. A line of small text floated up from the candle’s surface.
Jin Xueli snatched her hand back as if she’d been electrocuted.
After a pause, she gave a bitter smile. The two mory threads had really left a mark on her.
Although she had only survived today thanks to this candle, the fact that the resident had so wantonly lted it to change history was still a huge shock. She knew the resident hadn’t lted the candle to save her. If Jin Xueli were to rashly stick her own hand into history, who knew what kind of unexpected consequences it might cause?
So now, she couldn’t take the candle with her, but she also didn’t feel safe using it...
Jin Xueli sighed. After thinking for a mont, she decided to leave it alone for now.
Honestly, just looking at the candle reminded her of the resident that had copied her. It was better to calm down first and figure out what to do with it later.
Besides, a candle this big wasn’t going to be stolen. If soone could actually move this giant, dozens-of-ters-long candle out of an underground exhibition hall with no windows and a narrow staircase, then Jin Xueli would have no choice but to admit defeat.
She picked up her hiking backpack from the floor and felt for the phone in her pocket. Everything was there except for her Hunting Knife.
In this "current" tiline, the Hunting Knife had always been in Anthony’s hands. After witnessing it being plunged into "her own" neck, Jin Xueli wasn’t particularly eager to get it back.
’Anthony...’
Only her hatred for him grew sharper and more solid, so much so that she wished it could transform into a weapon and pierce his gut. The resident was gone, so all of Jin Xueli’s fury was now directed at the stalker.
Before stepping into the elevator, she glanced back at the giant candle in the distance.
"...The interlude is over," she muttered to herself.
’Next, I’ll stick to the original plan: go to 99th Street, get the Illusion there, and then go back and take care of Anthony once and for all. This ti, I won’t get distracted and go off track.’
It was only after leaving the Museum of Modern Art that she realized being copied by the resident wasn’t entirely a bad thing.
Originally, she had prepared herself for a nearly two-day walk to get to 99th Street.
The two-day journey, to be blunt, was only fifteen kiloters. But the paths in the Nest were difficult to travel, and unexpected dangers could be lurking anywhere—"hopscotch" was a pri example.
But now, because she had caught a ride in a taxi, the journey was drastically shorter, and she had avoided the dangers and traps along the way. With a bit of good luck to top it all off, Jin Xueli actually arrived at 99th Street half an hour later.
Standing under the street sign, she first scanned her surroundings before pulling out her phone for a look.
November 17, 2:12 AM.
She had entered the Nest on the evening of the 16th, shortly before ten o’clock.
After listening to the entire broadcast, she had gotten stuck playing hopscotch on Colorado Avenue for a long ti. She estimated she was probably copied by the "Vulture" resident soti after midnight.
’Logically, the "Vulture" resident should only be able to transform into soone after they’re dead, but tonight, "hopscotch" seed to have created an opportunity for it, allowing it to copy ...’
’No, no, that was in the previous mory thread. In this tiline, I escaped the fate of being copied.’
’Having lost its target, the "Vulture" resident is probably still wandering around Colorado Avenue right now.’
’Whatever, it’s all in the past.’ Jin Xueli suppressed the unsettling images in her mind and pulled her focus back to the present.
Under the dark night sky, a flight of stairs extended silently down into the ground, disappearing into a pool of darkness.
A sign bearing the letter "D" stood at the top of the stairs, indicating the entrance to a D-line subway station. Looking down from the sidewalk, the thick blackness was like solidified ink, so dense that one’s gaze seed to break upon its surface.
Jin Xueli rembered the first ti she had seen this subway entrance. She had hesitated for a long while, not daring to go down.
She took out her phone, turned on the flashlight, and shone it on the side wall of the staircase.
On the wall where the station na should have been, there was now only a single line of large, crookedly-written black characters: "A surprise awaits you below."
’That’s right. It’s still the sa phrase.’
’As long as it’s this phrase, I’m good.’
November is an odd-numbered month. In odd-numbered months, the words at this subway entrance read, "A surprise awaits you below." In even-numbered months, the words change to "A hug awaits you below."
When it said "surprise," you could go down into the subway station. Not only was it safe, but you could also get an Illusion—the Nest was sotis honest when you least expected it. But when it said "hug," you absolutely could not go down.
To this day, Jin Xueli still didn’t know what happened if you went down when it said "hug," but she hoped she would never find out.
Holding her flashlight, she descended the stairs step by step, passed through the broken turnstiles, and arrived on a platform lit by only a few scattered white lights.
Most of the platform was dim. There was a wall on one side, and a wall on the other side as well.
This was the only subway station Jin Xueli had ever entered in the Nest, so she didn’t know if they were all like this—no tracks, no subway cars, with both sides of the platform sealed off by walls.
In the center of the platform, a few people turned their heads toward her.
"A Hunter," said one of them, a man in a flat cap, before turning his gaze away as if uninterested.
"Yes," Jin Xueli replied, lowering the beam of her phone’s flashlight slightly to avoid shining it in anyone’s face. "Why so many people today?"
There were four people in the middle of the platform, all of them Hunters. Judging by the distance between them, they seed to be in two pairs.
Jin Xueli had been here several tis. She knew this place wasn’t exactly a secret among Hunters; many ca here from ti to ti to acquire Illusions.
Because so many people ca, an order had been established. Hunters would typically take their turn on a first-co, first-served basis, grab what they ca for, and leave, minding their own business. But this was the first ti she had seen four people gathered here at once.
"Look," said a woman with a gentle face, lifting her chin toward the front. "You ca at the right ti. The vending machine just got restocked."
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