"What in the world is happening? This sudden palpitation."
Short-Haired Mita led Misha to the room where the normal failed constructs were stored to check on the situation.
Misha gazed at the rows of dummy dolls, neatly arranged as if in slumber, her brows furrowed as she pressed her left hand to her chest.
The rhythmic thumping of her heart, through the fabric of her clothes, reached her palm. It felt as if… something was about to happen.
"Alain… is he alright?" The young girl's gaze involuntarily drifted through the crack of the door in the corner, as if Alain was just beyond it.
She then shook her head, rethinking.
"What we need to do now is secure our base. We shouldn't be thinking about such things. We must trust him."
Short-Haired Mita walked over to her side, holding a ledger, meticulously recording the status of each failed construct.
"Ah, sorry. I was distracted, even though this is work…"
Misha felt a little embarrassed. After all, Alain had tasked her with temporarily staying to assist Short-Haired Mita.
"It's fine, these were my responsibility to begin with."
"Still, there's so many," the long-haired girl said, sweeping her gaze across the vast, empty room. Like a warehouse, it housed at least fifty failed constructs, a truly spectacular sight.
"Won't there be any danger if they're kept here?"
At Misha's words, the flowing script in Short-Haired Mita's ledger halted.
"Danger… is inevitable," she replied, putting down the book and pointing towards a door.
Misha paused to look, only then noticing the door was stained with mold-like black patches.
"Yes, traces of Modified Entity erosion."
"But… since this room has been eroded, why haven't the failed constructs been moved?
"Misha asked, bewildered.
Given Short-Haired Mita's meticulous nature, she shouldn't allow such a "ticking time bomb" to exist.
"You think I don't want to?"
Short-Haired Mita looked at the rows of failed constructs, then pointed to the sealed hatch in the center of the ceiling.
"After dummy dolls are designated as failed constructs, most of them end up here.
"Regardless of whether these failed constructs will docilely remain dormant or not, their sheer weight alone makes them difficult for two or three people to move.
"My sister and I have moved quite a few these past days; this warehouse holds only the remnants. Furthermore…"
The short-haired girl's gaze, complex, fell upon the eroded door.
"It wasn't because of the erosion that I chose this room as storage. The situation is quite the opposite—"
Misha immediately realized something.
"Because this room is where failed constructs are stored, that's why the Modified Entity is eroding it?"
"Exactly. But fortunately, there were no signs of further erosion—
"What you said was 'now' might be 'past' already."
Misha's slightly trembling tone caught Short-Haired Mita's attention. She followed the girl's gaze.
She suddenly noticed that the failed constructs closer to the black-stained door already had faint speckles on their surfaces.
And this trend was spreading to the other dummy dolls.
Short-Haired Mita's face fell.
The ceiling fan light cast a thin veil of blood over the entire living room.
Crimson light bathed Kind Mita's face, a strange red glow shimmering in her blue-violet eyes.
In her vision, the otherwise empty living room now had a figure crouching in the corner.
Like a predator lurking in tall grass, she lightly arched her back, her gaze meeting Kind Mita's at the most intense point of crimson.
"Long time no see, dummy." That person took a few steps forward, shadow and blood-red light simultaneously obscuring her face.
Her previously delicate features now resembled a demonic fiend, filling Kind Mita with dread.
She instinctively staggered back a few steps, realizing only when her heel hit the bookshelf that…
She had nowhere left to retreat.
"What? Are you scared?" No sooner had Crazy Mita's words fallen than the ceiling fan light began to flicker erratically:
The light alternated between bright and dim, as if an invisible 'hand' was waving across the light source;
Throughout every corner of Version 1.9, continuous rustling and scurrying sounds echoed;
Every piece of wooden furniture, visible and invisible, creaked and groaned.
The next second—Crazy Mita snapped her fingers, and all of it vanished without a trace, returning to the desolate, silent crimson.
"Tell me, where are they?"
Kind Mita took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. A smile filled with fighting spirit appeared on her face.
Her gaze subtly flickered to her palm, where a note was hidden.
She might not be able to save her own life.
But at the very least, the note… had to be protected.
It was more important than her own life.
"Heh. Still a boring dummy. But if you're still dreaming of returning to your cage, to be a carefree caged bird, then you truly underestimate me."
Crazy Mita took light, airy steps, pacing around the edge of the sofa.
Kind Mita shuffled backwards with small steps, trying to distance herself from Crazy Mita's position.
Unbeknownst to her, Crazy Mita stopped once she reached the corner's edge.
From that shadowy spot, she reached in and pulled out a gleaming blade.
The blade, illuminated by the crimson light, seemed bathed in blood.
In a daze, Kind Mita saw trembling drops of blood flowing from the blade's tip, running down the edge, and dripping onto the hilt.
"The cage was my last act of mercy towards you. But this time, I'll grant you…"
With a light flick, the small flower in the vase snapped "snap" and fell to the floor. Transparent sap seeped from the cut, drop by drop, into the floor.
"It will surely be death, oh~"
Crazy Mita felt it wasn't quite enough, so she added,
"Right in front of him."
Kind Mita knew who "him" was; her face betrayed her panic.
"What's wrong? You're not afraid of death, but you're afraid to die in front of him?"
The long-haired girl didn't reply, simply pondering where to hide the note so it wouldn't be found.
Although she really didn't want the player to see her unsightly death. But given the circumstances, there was no other way. Follow current novᴇls on ɴovel(ꜰ)ɪre.nᴇt
As she watched, Crazy Mita seemed to have finished speaking, her patience completely gone, the smile vanished from her face, and she began to walk towards Kind Mita.
Her steps halted, her gaze fixed directly on the door to the foyer.
Kind Mita, still confused, then heard a faint… "rumbling" sound?
Following that, a sharp cutting sound tore through the foyer door, revealing the source of the cut: a saw blade.
The saw blade was like a paintbrush, drawing sharp marks, one after another, on the door.
The saw blade was like a paintbrush, drawing sharp marks, one after another, on the door.
The door shattered into fragments.
And she, standing in the very center of the door frame, watched the scene inside with disinterest.
"Ugh… what's this called?" Another Crazy Mita switched off her electric saw, glanced at the two astonished figures in the room, and finally gazed at Kind Mita.
"Was that rescue timely, dummy?"
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