Illusion Report

"What?" Fley asked blankly.

A low-level police officer like him had probably never even heard of the "Nest" before today.

Of course, Hunters weren’t the only ones who knew of the Nests’ existence.

In fact, among the major clients of the Hunter Family Factions, one would be hard-pressed to find many who were simply rich. An ordinary wealthy person, without the right opportunities, would have no way of even hearing that Nests and Hunters existed. The biggest clients were either wealthy enough to rival nations or were high-ranking, powerful officials.

To say nothing of other things, the Kai Family alone had handled several Illusions that could help people get "re-elected," "win elections," or "secure appointments." The danger involved in acquiring such Illusions was low, yet they could be sold for astronomical prices. It was the best kind of business, really. A shame they were so rare.

Of course, there was no need to worry about the clients taking a loss.

No matter how much a client spent on an Illusion, they could always squeeze back several times, even dozens of times, that amount from the country.

"You’re pretty lucky. You know, most people go their entire lives without ever encountering anything related to a Nest, not even a trace."

Chaisi walked to the door, kicked away the table used to barricade it, and glanced back.

"Want to see what’s outside?"

Fley’s eyes widened, evidently in disbelief that Chaisi would voluntarily open the door. He had turned the interrogation room into a makeshift fortress against external intrusions; it was the only reason he’d managed to hold out this long.

But Chaisi turned the handle anyway.

The interrogation room door swung open, inch by inch, revealing the pitch-black corridor outside.

The lights in the hallway had been turned off at some point.

The old mental hospital building had poor natural lighting. Each floor had only a few scattered windows—which were less like windows and more like cored-out round holes, not even as big as a person’s head.

Even though it wasn’t yet dusk, with the lights off, the inside of the building was so dim that one had to squint just to make out the shapes of things.

Fley was squinting now.

Chaisi stood in the doorway, one hand still resting on the door.

The moment he saw what was outside, he suddenly exhaled the breath he’d been holding and shouted, "Quick, shoot—"

Before he could finish, he abruptly cut himself off, the shout turning into a nasal, "Huh... huh?"

There were indeed police outside the interrogation room. After all, this was a room where a suspect was holding a detective hostage. Of course there would be a police presence in the hallway.

It was just that this "police presence" was probably not what anyone would have imagined.

Chaisi looked out into the hallway, clearly hearing Fley’s ragged, hurried breathing behind him. He must have smoked for half his life, because there always seemed to be phlegm in his chest, rising and falling with each breath. After a moment, a question emerged from the rattling sound: "What... what’s going on? You... you’re Jenny from General Affairs, right?"

A policewoman stood in the hallway outside, directly facing Chaisi.

She was the only officer out there. She wasn’t holding a weapon, but in one hand, she clutched a telephone receiver. The coiled cord dangled from it, its violently torn end still swaying slightly in the air.

’She was probably calling for backup when the "Nest Communication Network" happened to cover the entire Central Police Station, making her the first to be hit, huh?’

"Did someone call the police?" the policewoman asked, tilting her head up at Chaisi. "I received a report... who called it in?"

She had a round face, long eyelashes, and brown hair combed neatly back. She looked to be in her forties and gave off a very capable air.

"It was him," Chaisi said, pointing back at Fley.

"What?" Fley froze, as if finally snapping back to his senses. "Hey, you’re Jenny, right? Where did everyone else go? Why are you the only one here? Hey, get these handcuffs off me!"

It was unclear who he was shouting that last sentence at.

The policewoman named Jenny turned her eyes to Fley, as if her gaze were being pulled by a string.

"Alright, I’m coming," she said in a low voice, looking at Fley.

As the policewoman passed by Chaisi, she blinked.

When she blinked, her long upper eyelashes remained perfectly still. From beneath her upper eyelid, another layer of eyelid flickered down and quickly retracted.

’The Illusion known as the "Nest Communication Network" always manifested with slightly different details each time it opened up in Blackmoor City, like a creator who dislikes repeating themselves. No matter how many times I’ve seen it, I still run into nasty surprises.’

Before leaving, Chaisi glanced back one last time—"Jenny" was crouching in front of Fley, whispering like she was comforting a frightened child, "It’s okay, it’s okay now... The bad man is gone. It’s just you and me now."

Fley’s face was covered in sweat, and his eyes were dry and bloodshot.

He had stopped talking, merely staring intently at "Jenny’s" eyes as if they were the most incomprehensible thing in the world.

The recording device on the wall was still running, its small red light glowing.

"I got a call from your ex-wife," the policewoman said, lifting the receiver and motioning for Fley to put his ear to it. "Even though you’re divorced, she heard about the hostage situation at the station and is very worried about you. Quick, let her know you’re safe."

Fley stared blankly at the receiver and the severed, dangling cord beneath it.

From the receiver came a faint, hurried female voice that seemed to call Fley’s name, making him shudder violently—

Chaisi didn’t know what happened after that.

He gently closed the door, shutting the Jenny who was no longer Jenny, and the Fley who would soon no longer be Fley, behind the interrogation room door.

Standing in the pitch-black, dim hallway, Chaisi swept his fallen bangs back over his head and straightened the cuffs of his shirt.

The gun was tucked into his waistband. He wouldn’t be needing it for a while.

Several ragged, heavy breaths floated in the gloom of the hallway. There were also gurgling sounds, as if from throttled windpipes, surrounding Chaisi.

He closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

Weaving around the faces embedded in the floor, Chaisi walked to the railing, grabbed it with one hand, and vaulted over, landing in the center of the first-floor lobby. A whistle, like a cheer, immediately rang out, echoing through the dark police station.

"A beautiful jump,"

A young woman swiveled her chair around from a desk to face where Chaisi had landed, breaking into a smile. Even in the dim light, you could still make out her fair, smooth face, as well as the dense tattoos of text on her neck—there were letters, symbols, and block characters.

"So? We made it in time, didn’t we?"

Chaisi rolled his shoulders and neck.

The entire Central Police Station had fallen into darkness and silence. But it was the silence of a hazy, restless sleep that could break at any moment, and beneath it, a hidden nightmare rippled.

’The mastermind I’m after must have seen things going south and left at the first opportunity. But just as I told Fley, there must be other insiders in this building—the police chief, for example.’

"Find the chief," Chaisi ordered. "I have some questions for him. If you run into anyone who hasn’t been ’contacted’ by the Nest Communication Network yet, gather them in the holding cells."

Mercury gave him a gesture like a military salute, crisply said, "Yes, sir," and asked with a smile, "And then? You’re the boss, you call the shots."

Chaisi looked around.

"No matter what we do, they’re going to remember my name now," he said, chuckling softly at the thought. "So... go do whatever you want. Have fun."