Doomsday Wonderland

"What's wrong?"

The woman's voice from the brick wall spoke again and again, as if by repeating the same words enough times—even though she couldn't convincingly imitate Mrs. Manas—her persistence alone would force Lin Sanjiu to accept her as the real thing. "It's me, Mrs. Manas. Don't you recognize me?"

Lin Sanjiu could almost hear a suppressed sneer at the end of the sentence.

This thing, whatever it was, clearly took great pleasure in toying with her.

"You walked several steps just now, didn't you?" The voice was full of suggestion. "If you keep following the movements of the figures on the wall, who knows what might happen?"

What would happen?

It felt like she was about to fall from a great height, desperately trying to grab hold of something to steady herself. The real Mrs. Manas was gone from her mind, replaced by the voice of the brick wall woman, like someone had drilled a hole in the back of her head. Through that hole, something was peering at her. When the eyes withdrew, a flesh-colored finger hovered there, eager to slip inside.

Lin Sanjiu quickly forced herself to pull her hands back and grasp the fabric of her pants, stretching it tight across her thighs. This way, she maintained awareness of all her limbs. At least she still had control over her body. It seemed that only when she let her guard down would her limbs smile and lift themselves, secretly carrying her forward.

But... even if she stopped walking now, did it matter?

"In a place like this, it's just the two of us. We have to trust each other, or something else will take advantage..."

Lin Sanjiu bit her lip hard, listening to her own heavy breathing beneath the mask, trying to ignore the incessant chatter of the brick wall woman in her mind. She needed a way to find the right direction again.

If it was indeed her who had moved, then the brick wall hadn't shifted. From that perspective, perhaps the wall itself could serve as a reference point. Even if she didn't trust the wall, she could walk back to where the iron rod had fallen. The rod was a marker, pointing to where she first encountered the brick wall figures.

If she could find her starting point, there was hope. After all, this land, shrouded in doomsday smoke for nearly a century, had no paved roads or sidewalks left. She must have left footprints in the dirt. If she could find the spot where her toes pointed at the beginning, she could rediscover the right direction.

She turned the idea over in her mind, feeling more confident with each thought. To find the iron rod, she needed to clear the smoke again. Her left hand still clenched her pants. With a thought, the [Tornado Whip] card pressed into her right palm. The brick wall woman seemed to sense her intention, her voice slick and wary, "What are you planning to do?"

Lin Sanjiu didn't answer. The whip silently unfurled from her hand, tearing a crack through the thick mist.

"You're not planning to look at—" The brick wall woman's voice faltered for an imperceptible moment, as if she almost slipped and said, 'look at me.' "—that brick wall, are you?"

Lin Sanjiu closed her eyes briefly. Through the faint light filtering through her eyelids, she could still see the absurd figures on the brick wall, waving their arms and stepping forward.

"Are you under some kind of influence?" The brick wall woman's voice suddenly took on a more serious tone, even resembling Mrs. Manas's. "After that last glance, even your walking posture changed. Haven't you learned your lesson? Why do you still want to look?"

It seemed this thing really didn't want her looking at the brick wall again. Why?

Lin Sanjiu thought for a moment. The brick wall was deeply shrouded in smoke; typically, prey wouldn't be able to see the crack figures, only hear their voices. Could it be that these figures weren't meant to be seen, perhaps because they contained some kind of weakness?

That was the first reason that came to her mind.

"Don't you think it's strange that you keep wanting to look?" the woman's voice coaxed, almost pleading. "It's too frequent. Maybe the very urge to look, the idea that you have a reason to look, is because you've been influenced..."

It made some sense, but then the voice added, "Your hostility toward me must also be due to that influence. You should trust me."

Lin Sanjiu's only response was to send out another small tornado. Everything unfolded like before: the tornado pierced the thick smoke, its roar dying off just a few steps beyond the brick wall. The dense fog that filled the area dissipated along with it.

This time, she was almost unsurprised to find she had shifted again.

The iron rod was farther away, though only by a few meters. The figure with the cracked head and closed mouth, which the rod marked, still clung obediently to the damaged bricks.

From the furthest point her eyes could reach to the figure directly facing her—the one with its mouth open, limbs in a near-dance pose—she remembered clearly: this was her first time standing face-to-face with this figure. They all looked like marionettes, their limbs held up by invisible strings, always trailing her steps. If someone started playing music, she wouldn't be surprised if they began dancing along the wall with cheerful smiles.

"Where are you going?"

As the voice echoed in her mind, Lin Sanjiu was already sprinting toward the iron rod. Her guess had been right. Because no grass grew near the brick wall, she spotted a line of slightly crooked footprints in the black mud—each step spaced widely apart, as if she had been lifting her legs high into the air while walking.

As she ran, she noticed out of the corner of her eye that the figures on the brick wall were retreating rapidly, their feet kicking out, lifting, and falling back. Despite their rigid limbs and unturned heads, they matched her speed perfectly.

Cold sweat broke out all over her body. But then, she realized something: like a flipbook animation, the figures only seemed to move because of the rapid sequence of changing poses. It looked like they were keeping pace with her, retreating alongside her... right?

She came to a sudden stop on the other side of the iron rod, carefully avoiding the footprints on the ground.

Yes, they were indeed her own boot prints, and facing her was still the figure on the red wall with the smashed head and closed mouth. She had managed to find her starting point so smoothly that she could hardly believe it herself.

Wait a minute. Lin Sanjiu frowned, instinctively glancing toward the red wall. She seemed to have noticed a detail earlier.

The smoke was about to close in again. She took one last look at her trail of footprints and the long red wall stretching out on her right.

The second reason why that voice didn't want her to see the wall surfaced in her mind.

As she pondered, the voice in her head remained silent, as if it too knew that all it could do now was hold its breath and wait for her next move. Before the relentless lead-gray fog thickened once more, Lin Sanjiu fixed her direction.

It didn't take long for the smoke to envelop her limbs again. When she couldn't see her arms and legs, she wasn't even sure if she was still standing still; perhaps she had already moved forward without knowing it.

After deliberately and carefully taking a few steps, she forced herself to stop, gripping her pant legs tightly to make sure she wasn't moving.

"Is my direction correct?" she asked reluctantly. Then, after a pause, she added, "Mrs. Manas."

Silence filled her mind.

Lin Sanjiu exhaled and took another slow step forward. This time, she felt it: if she let her guard down, her limbs would slide, as if greased, into the same poses as the figures on the wall—as if a person trying not to laugh couldn't stop their mouth from twitching upwards.

"Is my direction correct?" she asked again as she walked.

The woman on the red wall immediately answered, "Yes, this is the right way. Keep going!"

Lin Sanjiu didn't dare imagine what would happen if she were wrong.

She closed her eyes and sprinted in the direction the figure had indicated.

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