Illusion Report

Less than ten minutes of her so-called "safe" time remained. Mai Mingle shoved the two pieces of cheek skin into the woman’s outstretched hand. Without a spare moment for words, she spun around and dashed out again—hope was within reach, just an eye and a mouth away.

But just as she stepped out the door, she froze.

"Have you started eating?" Mai Mingle asked hurriedly. "I haven’t found your mouth yet, so how can you eat? But you residents don’t really eat with your mouths like humans do, right?"

The woman stood in the corner with her back to her, silent for a moment. "...What?"

"I mean, I’ve already found five pieces of your face. If you’ve started ’eating,’ will that have a suppressive effect on the other diners?"

It would be a bald-faced lie to say Mai Mingle wasn’t terrified. The thought of what life-or-death crisis awaited her outside made her want to never leave the restroom. "If you can suppress them a little by ’eating,’ I’d be a little safer..."

"Oh, that." The woman seemed to recall something. "The threat they pose to you will continue to rise as time passes. There’s no way for you to be safer. You weren’t expecting me to protect you, were you?"

"No—of course not."

Mai Mingle frowned. She felt like their conversation had gone off track somewhere, but she couldn’t put her finger on what was giving her this feeling that ’a piece was missing’.

The more time passed, the worse her odds became; she couldn’t just stand here thinking.

"I’m leaving, then," Mai Mingle said, but she pulled her foot back before she could take a step. "Hey, can I borrow that lipstick you’re holding?"

The woman’s silence lasted for a few precious seconds. "Why?"

"I want to check whose mouth matches the color of your lipstick, in case someone is wearing your mouth on their own face. You said I could use any resources at my disposal, didn’t you?"

’Once lipstick is applied, it can smudge and change color, and who knows what it would look like then? Besides, the shades of lipstick aren’t that different to begin with. It would be much more reliable to compare it directly with the lipstick itself.’

The woman seemed to hesitate for a moment before saying, "Fine. Take it."

Afraid of wasting time, Mai Mingle quickly snatched the lipstick from its hand and strode out of the restroom. As she walked, she examined the tube—the design was common, nothing special. Thankfully, it was a bright red, much easier to distinguish than some shade of pink.

The only strange thing was that the lipstick bullet itself was covered in a web of fine scratches. No matter how she looked, she couldn’t tell how they were made, or what could have made them.

Mai Mingle filed the strange detail away, put the lipstick in her pocket, and slowed her pace at the end of the short corridor.

Like a thief, she first peeked into the dining hall to survey the scene—just in case any unpleasant surprises were waiting for her.

...For some reason, the Nest was oddly insistent on realism in the most bizarre details.

Mai Mingle didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It had been nearly an hour and a half since she’d arrived, and most of the diners should have "finished eating" by now. And yet, two waiters were actually busy clearing plates.

The plates at the table of six had already been cleared. One waiter was heading to the kitchen, a stack of dishes balanced on his arm.

Another waiter had just taken away the fish that had been picked to pieces, and was now walking toward the head-holding couple’s table. Mai Mingle accidentally made eye contact with the fish—mostly eaten, it was no longer moving, seemingly dead on the plate.

The three female diners at that table looked extremely displeased.

’It made sense. Their face had been found, and she’d been on guard against their trap the whole time. The fish was probably cleared away because it was no longer useful.’

’This actually saved her some trouble. Now Mai Mingle could openly observe the color of their mouths, no longer needing to resort to her roundabout method of photographing the mirror.’

However, her attempt quickly failed—no one’s lips were a color close to the bright red lipstick. It wasn’t just that they looked different to the naked eye; even in the mirror’s reflection, not a single person had even a trace of bright red lipstick on their mouth.

’It seemed they were only willing to give the hint about the color difference inside and outside the mirror once.’

’Could they have wiped the lipstick off?’

’But she couldn’t just touch the diners’ faces to check if they were "wearing" someone else’s mouth.’

With no other choice, Mai Mingle began to scour the restaurant. No matter how small the dining hall was, it was still far too large compared to the size of an eye or a mouth.

Though she was frantic, she still forced herself to move slowly.

Before taking each step, she scanned everything—the floor, the ceiling, the tables, and the mirrors. Only after confirming that nothing was amiss did she set her foot down on the next floor tile.

The wife’s face, like a giant sunflower, had rotated a full ninety degrees to follow her. Just as Mai Mingle was about to walk past it and toward the table with the gay couple, her heart suddenly leaped.

’Something wasn’t right—in that last scan, something was wrong—’

Mai Mingle slowly turned her head toward the mirrored wall.

The gay couple’s friend, the female diner, was staring at Mai Mingle without moving, just like everyone else. But in the mirror, the face it turned toward Mai Mingle was Mai Mingle’s own.

’...Is this the so-called "dead end" warning?’

’What would happen if her reflection overlapped with that mirrored face of hers?’

She didn’t dare go any further.

Mai Mingle pulled back her foot, stopping not far from the wife. She heard it let out a loud TSK—as if it were deeply unsatisfied that she hadn’t walked into the trap.

"I told you it wouldn’t work," the wife said in a low voice. "The hint was too obvious. The dead end trap is useless. We should try something else."

"I’m tired of this," the husband said. "I want to go out to sea. We might hit the jackpot fishing for people out there. It’s much better than sitting here. Why isn’t she dead yet?"

The wife patted its hand, as if to soothe it.

’Setting aside everything else, these residents were just plain obnoxious with their constant talk of death.’ Just as Mai Mingle was about to turn back, a thought struck her.

’So far, every table except the head-holding couple had given her a clue to find a face piece. The couple was cunning and annoying, but surely not everything they said was complete nonsense. There had to be a clue in there somewhere, right?’

’If there was, what was it?’

’...To find the answer, maybe she could compare what they talked about in the first thirty minutes with what they said afterward.’

’That wasn’t easy. The couple was especially chatty, and Mai Mingle would have to try to recall everything they said.’

’In the first thirty minutes: "wedding anniversary," "a pearl necklace as an anniversary gift," "choking someone," "going out to sea," and "no one can sit at the central round table."’

’After that, they still talked about their "wedding anniversary," "going out to sea," and the wife’s whole deceptive speech.’

’In other words... once they stopped giving hints, the couple never mentioned the "pearl necklace" or "choking" again.’

Mai Mingle’s gaze fell on the wife’s neck. The string of pearls was lustrous and white, each one perfectly round. They were, for all appearances, just pearls.

The creature shifted, seemingly unnerved by her stare.

Mai Mingle glanced over. The two chairs by the central round table had been put back in their original places.

She walked over and placed a hand on the back of one. A complicated feeling washed over her as she remembered how it had nearly become her grave just moments ago.

’Just dragging it away, not sitting on it, shouldn’t count as breaking the rules.’

"I just realized," she said in a low voice to the head-holding couple, gripping the chair and dragging it behind her as she walked back step by step. "You two really like choking people. In the first half hour, you were even comparing whose ’eyeballs’ bulged more when you did it."

The husband and wife exchanged a look. As if realizing something, both of them tensed up.

’She had to get this piece of the face now, while the diners were still unable to leave their seats or attack her directly. Otherwise, she might never get another chance.’

The moment the chair swung into the air, the wife frantically raised its arms to block it. But Mai Mingle put her entire strength into the swing, bringing the chair crashing down from on high onto the back of its head. With a heavy, sickening THUD, the chair smashed its arms, head, and neck down into the dining table.

The husband let out a howl, which sounded full of rage.

Mai Mingle didn’t let go. Still gripping the chair back with both hands, she swung it horizontally from the back of the wife’s head, sending it flying straight into the husband’s face. The impact knocked it backward, chair and all. The rule about them being unable to leave their seats seemed to be absolute; even as it was sent flying by a chair to the face, its rear end remained perfectly fused to its seat as it crashed to the floor.

The chair shattered on impact, sending splinters of wood flying across the floor.

Her hands now free, Mai Mingle slammed one palm onto the back of the wife’s head, pinning its face firmly against the table. With her other hand, she swept aside the damp hair on the nape of its neck.

There, at the clasp of the pearl necklace hidden by the hair, was a human eye. Its eyelid was flipped back and pinned behind the eyeball, revealing a bloodshot sclera. At the center of the white, a brown pupil stared straight at Mai Mingle. 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

She yanked it off the necklace. The string snapped instantly, and pearls scattered across the floor, a rolling cascade of white.

The sixth piece of the face. Found.