The evening wind carried a slight chill, rustling the meticulously trimmed leaves in the residential district with a soft whispering. The halos of the streetlamps cast circles of warm orange onto the ground, stretching Bai Yu's shadow thin and long, rendering him exceptionally solitary. He stood quietly at the boundary between light and shadow, the glass marble in his palm still seeming to retain a trace of the cold belonging to another world.
Hei Yan's elegant yet cruel words seemed to still linger by his ears, like a precision carving knife slicing open his already riddled soul once more, allowing him to clearly see every ugly crack within. He didn't retort, because every word Hei Yan spoke was the truth.
“Hey—! Old Bai! What are you spacing out here for? Competing with a telephone pole to see who stands straighter?”
A rough, booming voice suddenly came from not far away, like a stone thrown into a still lake, instantly shattering that heavy, dead silence. Mo Fei's tall figure jumped down from the driver's seat of an off-road vehicle, closing the distance in quick strides to Bai Yu's side, his fan-like large hand habitually reaching to clap him on the shoulder.
“I say, kid, how do you look like you've lost your soul after escorting a young lady back? What, did you think Miss Qiyue was pretty and your heart moved? I'm telling you, if you like her, go chase her. When will you change this silent-gourd temperament of yours…”
Bai Yu's body subconsciously stiffened, but the moment before Mo Fei's palm could land, he calmly took a step forward, perfectly avoiding that overly enthusiastic contact. He slowly raised his head, a trace of helplessness and a faint smile—as if dealing with a child who refused to grow up—already upon his face.
“Can your brain think of anything else besides this?” His voice sounded somewhat weary, but his tone had returned to its usual placidity. “Did you finish the report? Didn't Captain An assign you any more tasks?”
“Hey, don't even mention it!” Upon hearing this, Mo Fei immediately complained like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. “The report is that fellow Lan Ce's business, but Captain An really did grab me to work as manual labor again, saying that the Logistics Department had a batch of new equipment coming in and wanted me to help move it. Tell me, I'm an A-rank Investigator, doing these miscellaneous chores every day—isn't that a waste of my talent?”
As he spoke, he naturally fell into step beside Bai Yu, walking toward the residential district's exit. The warm lights were gradually left behind. Ahead was the cold and solemn outline of the Bureau's main building, like a silent steel behemoth in the night.
“That means Captain An trusts your strength.” Bai Yu replied perfunctorily. His gaze fell upon that distant building, his eyes becoming somewhat complicated. That place was where he had once spilled hot blood and created glory, and also where he… had completely shattered. Every return felt like reliving that grand death.
“Trust my ass!” Mo Fei curled his lip, but he quickly switched to an expression of concern, lowering his voice. “Seriously, Old Bai, are you alright? Just now at the mall, I saw your complexion didn't look right when you came out. That rule anomaly… was it more troublesome than what you told us before?”
Although Mo Fei appeared carefree and thick-skinned, as a teammate who had fought side by side with him for many years, he was exceptionally sensitive to Bai Yu's condition. He knew that the more Bai Yu acted calm and unbothered, the greater the pressure he was usually enduring.
“A bit tricky. The Nightmare's ability caused some interference to Hei Yan.” Bai Yu didn't conceal it, but glossed over the most crucial parts lightly. “But it's already resolved. A poor child was trapped within the rules.”
He didn't speak of his own soul's fissures, didn't say that Hei Yan's origin had been damaged, and even less did he say that he was actually a “work of art” that might shatter again at any moment. These truths were too heavy; speaking them would only cause his companions needless worry, with no benefit whatsoever. He had long been accustomed to bearing all of this alone.
“It's like this again…” Mo Fei cursed in a low voice, his fist clenching unconsciously. “These damned Nightmares always like to target children.” He was silent for a moment, then nudged Bai Yu with his elbow. “Anyway, it's good that you're back. Captain An approved a week of mandatory leave for you. You better rest properly for me, and don't sneak off to the training room again. You hear?”
“Got it, got it.” The corners of Bai Yu's mouth hooked into an extremely faint arc.
This somewhat clumsy concern from his companion was like a faint wisp of warm current, quietly seeping into that frozen wasteland of his heart. It was precisely to protect these things, to protect this everyday normalcy, that he had to continue walking forward with this broken body.
The two chatted idly all the way back to Investigation Team One's office area. The late-night office was still brightly lit, the sound of keyboard tapping and the low hum of instruments interweaving, filling the air with a tense yet orderly atmosphere. Lan Ce was wearing his black-framed glasses, sitting before his computer, his ten fingers flying across the keyboard. On the screen were densely packed data streams and on-site analysis diagrams.
“Yo, data nerd, still not off work?” Mo Fei started shouting as soon as he entered.
Lan Ce didn't raise his head, only replying faintly: “If my partner could write the on-site report with a little more logic, rather than like an elementary student's daily journal, I might be able to get home earlier.”
“Hey! What do you mean! That's documentary style, you get it? Pursuing originality!”
Bai Yu didn't participate in their daily bickering. He walked to Lan Ce's side, his gaze falling on the screen. On it was the closing report for the “Different Dream Coffee Shop” incident.
“How are the victims?” he asked softly.
Only then did Lan Ce stop his work, push up his glasses, and look at Bai Yu. His eyes held the peculiar scrutiny of an analyst, as if assessing Bai Yu's condition.
“They were all rescued—seven customers and three shop assistants in total. Vital signs are stable, but they all exhibit varying degrees of short-term memory confusion and acute stress disorder. The Medical Department's psychological intervention team has already stepped in.” Lan Ce pulled up a file with photos and basic information of several victims. “Their memories were tampered with by the Nightmare. Regarding what happened in the coffee shop, they only remember drinking a cup of rather tasty coffee, then falling asleep. About the rules, the monster, and that child, they have no impression whatsoever. This is the best outcome for them.”
“Mn.” Bai Yu nodded. Forgetting, sometimes, was indeed a kind of mercy.
“Additionally,” Lan Ce continued, “we traced that child's identity. His name is Lin Xiaole, seven years old. He went missing in that mall a year ago and was never found. At the time, it was judged that he had been abducted by human traffickers. Now it appears he was killed by that Nightmare's predecessor, namely that janitor.”
Bai Yu's eyes dimmed slightly. Behind the birth of every Nightmare, there was often a tragedy in the real world. What they did was not merely eliminate monsters; it was also to win back a belated justice for these innocent deceased.
“Has the Nightmare Core been analyzed?” he asked—this was what concerned him most.
Lan Ce shook his head. “Still analyzing. That glass marble's energy structure is very strange, possessing both the traits of a rule-twisted Nightmare, yet also containing a very pure obsession with ‘protection.’ Very contradictory. However, what can be confirmed is that its danger level is not high. It has already stabilized and can be sealed away as research material.”
“That's good.” Bai Yu let out a breath of relief.
“You should worry about yourself first.” Lan Ce looked at his pale complexion and rarely added a few more sentences. “Captain An specifically instructed that you go straight to the lounge upon returning. Your mandatory recuperation order is already in effect. There's nothing here that concerns you.”
“Exactly, exactly!” Mo Fei chimed in from the side. “Hurry up and go sleep! Otherwise, I'll have to carry out the Captain's orders and haul you back!”
Under the two men's “escort,” Bai Yu was half-pushed and half-coaxed to his exclusive lounge. Closing the door and shutting out all outside clamor, the entire world instantly became quiet.
The lounge's furnishings were very simple: a bed, a wardrobe, a desk—that was all. It was more like a temporary nest than a home. He didn't turn on the lights, only walking to the window and using the faint light seeping in from outside to survey this small space.
He took out that eyeball-shaped glass marble from his pocket once more.
In the dim light, there seemed to be a faint glow flowing within the marble, like a distant star. He could feel Lin Xiaole's obsession quietly sleeping within it. It was no longer a source of terror, but a child's final, voiceless gratitude.
“Truly cheap self-satisfaction.”
Hei Yan's phantom silently condensed into form behind him, that meticulously neat black formal wear appearing especially distinct even in the darkness. His voice carried a trace of mocking amusement, floating elegantly through the silent room.
“Saving one long-dead soul makes you feel that this broken work of art has gained some value in existence? My dear little Bai Yu, this ‘hero complex’ of yours is truly the most pathetic yet most fascinating thing I have ever seen.”
Bai Yu didn't look back, only using his thumb to gently rub the cold surface of the marble.
“At least, he found peace…”
“Peace?” Hei Yan seemed to have heard some enormous joke, letting out a low, light laugh. “So-called peace is merely another form of ‘nothingness.’ You exhausted your heart and mind, nearly dragged yourself down as well, and in the end, only sent him from one nightmare into another eternal, empty dream. What meaning does this process hold for you?”
“Meaning…” Bai Yu repeated the word. He slowly turned around. For the first time while alone, he calmly faced the Nightmare before him. There was no longer any past struggle or resistance in his eyes—only fathomless calm, like the sea after a storm.
“I truly am broken.” Bai Yu spread his hands, as if displaying those invisible fissures. “It was you who reassembled me with your power. I am no longer the complete Bai Yu; I am clearer on this point than anyone.”
His voice was very soft, yet carried an unprecedented firmness.
“But you seem to have misunderstood one thing, Hei Yan.” The corners of Bai Yu's mouth curved into an arc of faint self-mockery. “A piece of porcelain, even shattered, as long as it can still hold water, retains its value as a vessel. A sword, even broken, as long as the sharpened edge of its fracture remains keen, can still slay enemies.”
“This body of mine, this soul of mine, is my vessel and my sword. No matter how broken it may be, no matter how every use deepens the cracks—as long as it can still move, still grip a weapon, still stand against those things that crawl out from nightmares—then my existence has meaning.”
He placed that glass marble on the desk, letting out a crisp, clear sound.
“I no longer vainly hope for ‘recovery,’ nor do I fear ‘shattering.’ I accept my present state, accept the fate of symbiosis with you. You regard me as your work of art—fine. But please remember, this work of art's sole purpose for existing is to fight. Until… the day it completely turns to dust.”
These words were like a declaration—a resolve established both toward himself and toward the demon symbiotically bound to him.
Hei Yan quietly watched him. In those scarlet eyes, for the first time, there was no mockery or amusement. In their place was a far more complex emotion. It was that mixture of appreciation, possessiveness, and a trace of astonished wonder an artist feels when their proudest masterpiece begins to shine with a radiance exceeding all expectations.
“…Hehe… Hahahaha…” He suddenly began to laugh, shifting from a low chuckle to a hearty laugh. That laughter reverberated through the small room, filled with morbid delight.
“Splendid! Truly too splendid! My dear little Bai Yu!” Like a theatrical actor, he elegantly performed a hand-over-chest salute to Bai Yu. “You have finally… finally understood the true meaning of ‘the beauty of brokenness’! You are no longer that mortal struggling futilely to escape destiny, but a martyr choosing to dance in shackles! Oh, this is even more… perfect than I imagined!”
He slowly floated before Bai Yu, his illusory fingers nearly touching Bai Yu's cheek, his voice becoming as tempting as a devil's whisper.
“Then, let us dance together. On this teetering stage, bloom your radiance to your heart's content. I will repair every injury for you, will polish every crack for you, until you welcome that final, magnificent curtain call! And I shall be the sole audience member.”
After speaking, his figure slowly dissipated into the air like smoke.
Bai Yu paid him no further heed, only removing his coat and lying down on that cold bed. He closed his eyes. Every inch of muscle in his body was screaming exhaustion, but his spirit was unprecedentedly clear and firm.
A night without dreams.
The next day, Bai Yu truly began his “honest” vacation life. He didn't go to the training room, nor did he look through case files. He only stayed in the Bureau's internal library the entire day, reading some irrelevant history or literary works, as if truly relaxing.
In the evening, the internal communicator on his wrist vibrated lightly. He raised his wrist and saw a new message pop up on the screen.
The sender was Lu Yueqi.
[Mr. Bai, hello. I've already packed everything up. The new residence is very safe, thank you. Um… are you alright? Your teammate said you were injured. Please make sure to rest well.]
At the end of the message, there was also a cartoon emoticon representing “Good luck.”
Bai Yu looked at this message, silent for a moment. He could imagine that girl summoning her courage to send this message in an unfamiliar environment. This clumsy yet sincere concern from the “ordinary” world he protected made his heart, wrapped in cold power, also feel a trace of genuine warmth.
He thought for a moment, then replied: [I'm fine. Live well.]
These seven simple words were both a reply and a reminder to himself.
Just as he was preparing to put away his communicator and head to the cafeteria for dinner, a shrill alarm suddenly resounded through the entire Bureau! Red warning lights flashed madly in the corridors, casting an ominous bloody hue over everyone's faces.
A maximum-level emergency!
Bai Yu's body tensed in an instant. The lethargy of his vacation state vanished without a trace, replaced by cheetah-like vigilance. Without the slightest hesitation, he immediately turned and sprinted toward Team One's conference room.
When he pushed open the conference room doors, inside was already in chaos. An Mu, Mo Fei, Lan Ce, and the other core members of Team One were all present, everyone's expression heavy to the extreme. On the central holographic projection was displayed a “Top Secret” emergency file that had just been transmitted.
“What happened?” Bai Yu asked in a heavy voice.
An Mu saw him, his brows furrowing even tighter. “Bai Yu? Why are you here? You should be on leave right now!”
“Now is not the time to talk about this.” Bai Yu's gaze was already locked dead onto that file.
The file's title consisted of only three words—“Luoshui Village.”
“Three hours ago, we received a distress signal from Luoshui Village. The signal lasted less than five seconds before being cut off.” Lan Ce quickly pulled up the information, his speaking speed astonishingly fast. “Luoshui Village, located deep in the southern mountain range, is an isolated ancient village with a registered population of three hundred twelve. After the signal cut off, we immediately mobilized satellites and drones for reconnaissance, but… but all drones lost contact after entering the village range, and satellite images can only see a mass of strange red fog so thick it won't dissipate.”
A processed, blurry satellite photo appeared on the holographic projection. At the center of the photo, where the village should have been, was shrouded in a mass of ominous red fog, as if formed from congealed blood.
“The only thing transmitted back was the final segment of audio captured by the drones before losing contact.”
Lan Ce pressed a button. A suona sound that seemed capable of piercing eardrums exploded from the speakers! It was not a festive tune, but a melody saturated with grief, strangeness, and madness, mournful and shrill like a funeral procession, yet also like some evil ritual. Behind the suona, faint sobs of a woman intermingled with a sort of… rustling “sha sha” sound of paper rubbing.
Just hearing this sound, the faces of everyone in the conference room paled by a few degrees.
“What… what the hell is this?” Mo Fei couldn't help cursing, goosebumps already rising across his body.
“According to comparisons with ancient texts in our database, this melody strongly resembles a ‘Ghost Wedding Song’ played during weddings held for the dead.” Lan Ce's voice was also somewhat hoarse.
“Ghost wedding?”
“Just half an hour ago, the D-rank Investigator squad we dispatched to the village periphery transmitted their final message, then also lost contact.” An Mu's voice was incomparably heavy. He pulled up that message. It was a photo taken at the cost of a life, so blurry from shaking that it was barely recognizable.
In the photo, on a country road beneath the night sky, a strange wedding procession advanced. At the very front walked two paper figures with bizarre blushes painted on their cheeks. They held white lanterns, yet the lanterns emitted a ghostly green glow. In the middle was a large red bridal sedan chair, but the ones carrying it were four swaying paper figures as well. Behind the procession followed a group of villagers wearing ancient clothing. Every one of them wore a smile, yet those smiles were stiff and strange, their eyes vacant—as if they were a crowd of manipulated puppets.
The most hair-raising thing was, in the corner of the photo, the Investigator seemed to have captured one of the missing villagers. It was a young girl wearing an ill-fitting bright red wedding dress, her face painted with thick, gaudy makeup, wearing a strange smile as she was being “supported” on the left and right by two paper figures, following behind the wedding procession.
Her feet were off the ground.
“The living carry the sedan, paper figures lead the way, the suona blows the souls, red and white clash in catastrophe…” Bai Yu looked at the photo, enunciating each word of this ancient proverb of unknown origin. His gaze became sharp as knives. “This isn't an ordinary Nightmare. This is a rule-twisted Nightmare rooted in ancient folklore and collective fear—and its rank is likely very high.”
The conference room fell into deathly silence.
This time, what they would encounter would be an unprecedented and extremely dangerous opponent.
“I'll lead the team personally.” An Mu took a deep breath, making the decision. “Mo Fei, Lan Ce, you…”
“Captain.”
A calm voice interrupted him.
Everyone's gazes focused on Bai Yu.
He stood there, his figure still appearing somewhat frail, his complexion carrying a sickly pallor. But in those deep eyes burned a flame called “resolve” that had never been extinguished.
“This mission, I'm going too.”