The air on the first floor carried the mingled scent of aged dust and old wood, as if time itself had congealed there decades ago.
Flaking paint adorned the walls, and the floor was paved with old-fashioned concrete, creating a stark contrast to the modern aesthetic of the upper floors.
It felt like a fragment forcibly torn from Qi Yue’an’s hazy childhood memories.
The faceless boy’s figure appeared exceptionally frail in the dim light.
His pace was unhurried, almost a guiding rhythm, consistently keeping within Qi Yue’an’s line of sight.
Eventually, he halted before a dilapidated door at the end of the corridor.
Qi Yue’an slowed her steps, approaching cautiously.
She observed that only this one door on the entire floor bore signs of habitation; the others were thickly blanketed in dust.
On the boy’s door, the nameplate area showed clear scratch marks, the name completely obliterated, leaving only a blurred void.
Without turning, the boy simply pushed open the ajar door, stepped inside, and left it unlatched.
Qi Yue’an hesitated for a moment, then followed him in.
The scene within the room intensified the uncanny familiarity stirring in her heart.
The small space was furnished with antiquated wooden pieces, and plain cloth curtains adorned the window, diffusing the sunlight into a soft, hazy warmth.
The walls and scattered papers on the floor were covered in various childish yet chaotic scribbles—indistinguishable blocks of color, alongside marks resembling a child’s failed attempts at writing.
The boy sat quietly at a small wooden table, picking up a pencil and intently sketching on a blank sheet of paper.
He completely disregarded Qi Yue’an’s presence, as if she were merely a wisp of air in the room.
Qi Yue’an did not disturb him, choosing instead to observe silently.
An ineffable sense of loneliness and stagnation permeated the room.
She attempted to glean clues from the doodles and the room’s details, searching for the origin of that familiar feeling, but her memories remained obscured, as if shrouded in a thick fog.
As time slowly trickled by, the boy finally ceased his drawing.
He picked up the paper, now filled with chaotic lines, and ‘gazed’ at it silently for a few seconds.
Then, he turned his featureless face towards Qi Yue’an, speaking in an ethereal voice devoid of any emotional fluctuation:
“There’s no one here anymore…”
Having uttered those words, he lowered his head once more, returning to a state of stillness before the drawing paper on the table.
No matter how Qi Yue’an tried to question or interact with him, he remained unresponsive.
“There’s no one here anymore…”
The phrase echoed in the silent room, lending it an exceptionally eerie quality.
Qi Yue’an looked at the faceless child, then surveyed the room—so familiar yet utterly foreign—her heart brimming with unanswered questions.
Who was he?
Why did his room appear here, and why was it so intimately connected to her inner world?
Did his ‘no one’ refer to himself, or to the meaning this room once held?
Evidently, no further answers could be gleaned from this place at present.
She drew a deep breath of the dust-laden air, cast one last glance at the still figure, then turned and left the room, gently closing the door behind her.
****
Retracing her steps, she traversed the dim, lifeless corridor of the first floor and ascended the staircase.
With each upward step, the surrounding decor grew progressively more ‘futuristic,’ as if she were journeying from the past of her memories into the future.
Passing the second floor, her old classmate’s room remained tightly shut; on the third, the boisterous substitutes still performed their daily routines; and on the fourth, Xiao Ru’s room had fallen silent.
As she stepped onto the fifth floor once more, returning to the familiar corridor reminiscent of a shared apartment, a subtle weariness washed over her.
The lighting here was warm, the carpet soft, creating a haven seemingly designed just for her.
Yet, this gentle comfort could not dispel the chill she had brought back from the lower floor.
“Miss Fox! Where did you run off to?”
‘Bai Jin,’ the substitute who claimed to be a knight, poked her head out of her room again, hands on her hips, looking as if she were ready to demand an explanation.
“I finished my patrol and you were nowhere to be seen.
Where did you go?”
Qi Yue’an gazed at this ‘Bai Jin’ playing the role of a tsundere knight.
Despite knowing she wasn’t real, her vibrant expressions and tone offered a stark contrast to the lifeless, faceless boy on the first floor.
This apartment, seemingly constructed from her perceptions, appeared to be a distorted reflection of her life’s trajectory and inner relationships, from top to bottom.
“I merely took a walk downstairs.
I apologize for making you worry.”
She replied simply, stroking Bai Jin’s head, though a subtle, imperceptible heaviness flickered in the depths of her silver eyes.
“Downstairs? What’s so great about that dilapidated place!
And it’s not like I was worried about you; I was just afraid you’d lure someone else back.”
‘Bai Jin’ wrinkled her nose in disdain.
Ultimately, she returned to her own bedroom, which was no different from her current living space.
However, compared to the outside world, this place offered a sense of security, as if she had lived there for a very long time.
Subsequently, over the course of the ‘next day,’ Qi Yue’an’s life settled into an unsettling, fixed pattern.
By day, she navigated the strictly regulated classrooms, striving for survival under the Advisor’s blood-red gaze and the ever-present threat of fatal questions.
By night, she retreated to the apartment building that mirrored her inner world, finding slumber within its comforting embrace.
She had once attempted to discover the school’s boundaries and an exit.
During a ‘break time,’ she ventured away from the main teaching building, heading towards where she remembered the school gate to be.
The scenery lining the path initially appeared normal, but the further she went, the more the details blurred and simplified, resembling incompletely rendered textures.
Trees transformed into monotonous blocks of color, and the distant architectural outlines warped and distorted.
She pressed onward, yet imperceptibly, the surrounding landscape began to loop.
Despite walking in a straight line, she would look up only to find herself back at a familiar crossroads.
The spatial logic here seemed utterly broken; the closer she ventured to the edges, the more disorienting the directions became, leading her in circles back to the starting point.
Moreover, even outdoors, the chilling rules displayed on her phone screen remained active.
The occasional flash of a red-clad figure in the distance served as a reminder that the rules were still omnipresent.
On one occasion, while exploring a seemingly deserted path, a clear call suddenly echoed from the darkness:
“Qi An… come here…”
The voice was ethereal and familiar, imbued with a seductive quality.
She immediately froze, holding her breath until the sound, accompanied by a sigh of disappointment, gradually faded away.
Another time, she narrowly avoided prolonged eye contact—exceeding three seconds—with a ‘PE teacher’ clad in a scarlet tracksuit.
At the last possible second, she sharply lowered her head, her heart pounding, sensing the inhuman gaze linger above her for a long moment before finally shifting away.
However, as the rules became undeniable, humanity’s adaptive capabilities began to manifest here.
After the initial panic and heavy casualties, the surviving students—including ordinary individuals who were neither magical girls nor demons—were compelled to familiarize themselves with and exploit these rules.
Qi Yue’an actively participated, contributing to mutual reminders, pattern summarization, and cautious tests conducted within the limited confines.
Death incidents, once a daily occurrence, gradually dwindled to sporadic events, and eventually almost ceased altogether.
A warped ‘normalcy’ had been established, and the people within the school gradually adapted to this place, to a terrifying degree.
Returning to the fifth-floor apartment, however, represented a different kind of ‘normalcy.’
It felt like a warm sanctuary where the red-clad figures and potential monsters from outside were genuinely absent.
Furthermore, the ‘substitutes’ here, for some inexplicable reason, held an exceptionally strong affection for her.
“Miss Fox! What took you so long to come back?”
‘Bai Jin’ the knight was always the first to leap out, hands on her hips, her snow-white twin tails swaying with her movements, her face openly displaying concern.
Though she would immediately turn her face away, blushing as she added:
“Hmph, it’s not that I was worried about you; I merely have a duty to look after every subject in my territory.”
Qi Yue’an had grown accustomed to her contradictory words, even indulging a subtle inner impulse to reach out and gently ruffle her soft hair.
Like a cat being petted, ‘Bai Jin’ would first offer a token struggle, protesting with a soft, ‘Ugh… rude!’ before unconsciously narrowing her eyes and emitting faint, kitten-like purrs.
Only after enjoying the head-patting would she seem to remember something, saying with a touch of reluctance:
“…Miss Star seems to be looking for you.
Go quickly!
Don’t keep her waiting!”
Her tone carried a subtle hint of jealousy, perhaps even unnoticed by herself.
‘Miss Star’—Xiyin’s substitute—was the one she had interacted with most over the past few days, and their relationship here seemed far better than in the outside world.
In ‘Miss Star’s’ memories, they appeared to be long-acquainted, inseparable confidantes.
Opening the door, she found ‘Xiyin’ seated in the room.
Its arrangement was identical to the room outside, providing the same profound sense of peace.
This place felt like the dividing line between sorrow and happiness, allowing her to emerge from that cold rain, transitioning from the past to the present.
The ‘Xiyin’ here was far more gentle and considerate than her real-world counterpart, her eyes brimming with unreserved affection.
Her light blue hair flowed like a river of stars as she smiled, welcoming Qi Yue’an.
“Miss Moon, you’re here.
I’ve composed a new piece, and I’d love to play it for you.”
The room was filled with the ethereal, tranquil sound of a guitar—a melody Xiyin in reality might never have created, existing solely for this moment.
Sitting side-by-side before the floor-to-ceiling window, a faint, lavender-like scent of tranquility permeated the air.
Here, Qi Yue’an could temporarily set aside everything from the outside world, embracing a sense of complete acceptance and peace.
This atmosphere, like the sweetest dream, was the most potent temptation for Qi Yue’an, who yearned for belonging and serenity.
An indeterminate amount of time later, she awoke to find herself leaning against ‘Xiyin’s’ embrace, a soft, thin blanket draped over her.
‘Xiyin’ had not disturbed her, simply letting her rest her head on her lap while gazing at the ‘starry sky’ outside the window, her eyes so tender they sent a slight shiver down Qi Yue’an’s scalp.
“Awake?”
She lowered her head, her voice as soft as a feather brushing against her heart.
“Miss Moon, will you… stay tonight?”
Her tone held natural intimacy and a hint of imperceptible expectation, as if this were the most normal invitation.
“?”
Qi Yue’an paused, startled by the other’s gaze.
“There’s only one bed here.”
Upon hearing her words, the other person chuckled, a sound imbued with exceptional charm.
She patted the spot beside her.
“You can just sleep here…”
“Huh?”
She took a step back, widening the distance under the other’s questioning gaze.
“Wouldn’t that be… inappropriate?”
For the past few days, Qi Yue’an had only come to talk.
While this ‘Xiyin’ had shown herself to be far gentler and more composed than the real Xiyin, Qi Yue’an hadn’t expected such a bold proposition.
“Still not in the mood tonight… even though just a few days ago you…”
The other person appeared regretful, yet a blush spread across her face.
Qi Yue’an, sensing that the other’s memories were profoundly amiss, hastily stopped the face that was leaning in.
“Calm down, Xiyin.
Remember, you used to be…”
Mid-sentence, she realized her mistake.
The other’s face abruptly turned ashen, and she instantly retreated to a corner of the room.
“How did you know… I was so determined to change… Are you still going to be taken by him… No, no…”
Her form literally paled, morphing into a chaotic scribble, as she ceaselessly repeated a single phrase.
“No… no… you’re not her! You’re not her!”
As if understanding something, the other person lifted her head.
The face that had always brought Qi Yue’an comfort was now replaced by a demonic, black scribble.
Qi Yue’an immediately transformed, black flames of envy coiling around her sword.
Since arriving here, she had refrained from extensively using her magical girl powers.
“Her power is with you… Ah… I remember now, I’m dead, and she’s dead too… Everything is over, over!”
She roared.
At some unknown moment, a gaping, bloody hole had appeared in her chest, and the gem she usually wore there had shattered into fragments.
The warm scene from moments ago was now torn to shreds.
She cackled maniacally, appearing extraordinarily terrifying, wreathed in murky, black demonic energy.
Instinctively, she hesitated to harm the person bearing Xiyin’s appearance; their interactions over the past few days made it difficult for her to strike.
A pang of regret for her misspoken words even arose in her heart, and a voice from deep within urged her to simply stand there and atone with her death.
In that moment of hesitation, the other entity lunged forward, claws extended.
The overwhelming aura of resentment momentarily stalled Qi Yue’an’s mind, and by the time she reacted, the claws were already inches away.
“Bang—”
A flash of orange-red flame suddenly ignited, appearing like a precise strike at ‘Xiyin’s’ vital joints, then erupting into a fierce explosion.
Immediately after, Qi Yue’an felt herself embraced by someone, who used their body to shield her, turning their back to the blast.
The person seemed to be wearing a wide black cloak, which miraculously repelled all the flames.
The surging blast swept away everything nearby, yet, astonishingly, failed to ignite a fire.
Within their embrace, she felt tiny, and before she could even react, she was carried out of the door.
“Phew… they shouldn’t pursue us now.
Honestly, you, standing there with no reaction even when it was right in front of you—your combat instincts really need…”
As if relieved, he set her back on the ground and began spouting some nonsensical words.
Even without turning her head, Qi Yue’an knew exactly who it was.