Illusion Report

Chaisi really had a lot of pull.

When he first said he would pull some strings for her, Mai Mingle had her doubts. The person she was supposed to meet was the mayor, after all, and she was just an ordinary citizen. The meeting had been arranged so suddenly—would she really get to see him?

What made her even more uneasy was what Chaisi had said before she left. The mayor was scheduled to sign a welfare housing expansion project today, and his schedule was completely full. But Chaisi told Mai Mingle not to worry; he had already put in a good word. All she had to do was show up with his business card.

’Just like that?’

Mai Mingle stared at the lead-gray business card. It looked like a movie prop, and she found herself distrusting it.

Not to mention she had to sell an Illusion to the mayor... What if he didn’t want it?

Before, she had been completely focused on how to get the lipstick back. It wasn’t until this very moment, sitting on the reception sofa outside the mayor’s secretary’s office, that she suddenly grew nervous. ’I’ve never worked in Illusion sales. How am I supposed to pitch this thing?’

"Miss Mai? I’m sorry, could you please wait a few more minutes?"

The secretary entered the reception area. Her expression and demeanor were composed and polite, and she said nothing she wasn’t supposed to, but she couldn’t hide her curiosity and confusion as she looked at Mai Mingle. "The signing ceremony for the welfare housing expansion project is about to begin. He’s on an important call right now, but he said he’ll finish as soon as possible."

’Finish quickly for my sake? No way. It must be because of Chaisi.’

When the secretary finally led Mai Mingle into the mayor’s office, the entire sales pitch she had prepared vanished from her mind. She couldn’t remember a single word—because she had never expected the room to be full of people.

The moment the door opened, every face in the room turned toward her.

A crowd of men and women in suits, wearing access passes and press badges, carrying cameras and notepads, all fixed their gazes on Mai Mingle’s face. For the space of a single breath, the room was filled with silent confusion.

"Oh, you’re here,"

The mayor stood up from behind his desk with a hearty laugh.

In truth, whether he was smiling or not, his face was a mass of puffy, snow-white muscle. The smile merely lifted the corners of his mouth into the flesh, making them disappear into the shadows cast by the swollen mounds.

It was a face one could never get used to, no matter how many times one saw it.

During the alley fight by the bar that night, she had briefly seen a similar "Noh mask"—only later did she learn that it had been Han Liuyue.

Now, the mayor also had a "Noh mask" sitting atop his neck. But perhaps because the person beneath it was different, the distribution of the features and the contours of the muscles were slightly different as well.

What they had in common was that they both sent a chill creeping into the pit of your stomach.

But aside from Mai Mingle, everyone else in the office acted naturally, as if this was what a human face was supposed to look like.

"This is a friend of mine," the mayor explained to the reporters and lawyers around him. He strode over to Mai Mingle, beaming, and extended a hand. "Did you bring the item Chaisi mentioned?"

’Even if he had just snatched the item from her, it would have been better than this polite handshake now.’

Under the gazes of everyone in the room, Mai Mingle steeled herself and let him squeeze her fingers.

"Yes, I brought it," she answered, still not quite able to process the situation.

’He can’t possibly want to do this in front of so many people...’

"Excellent," Mayor Oliver Mason nodded, smiling. "Then please wait here for a moment. The signing process is quick. I’ll answer a few more questions, and then we can discuss our business."

"I can come back another day..."

"No, no, absolutely not!"

Oliver Mason immediately shook his head so violently it looked as if it might fly off his body. "The sooner the better. It’s urgent. You just stay in this room. Don’t go anywhere. If this signing and press conference hadn’t already been scheduled, I would have wanted to take care of our business first."

He looked at Mai Mingle with his two air-hole eyes. The light shone on the top of his head, casting shadows into the snow-white undulations of his face.

His voice, however, was still that of a competent politician, loud and confident as he poked fun at himself. "Seeing as how eager I am, please do me a favor and wait here, alright?"

’So he’s afraid I’ll change my mind and leave with the lipstick...’

’Since the Nest told her to find the mayor to sell the lipstick, there was clearly a reason for it.’

The secretary found a chair for Mai Mingle. She sat in a corner, watching as everyone in the room took their places. The mayor sat behind his desk, struck a pose, and, surrounded by the crowd, picked up a pen and swiftly signed his name on the document. Camera flashes popped, their light hitting the doughy, swollen, puffy white face. The light seemed weak and powerless, as if it were being absorbed by his skin, unable to produce a reflection.

It was her first time witnessing the inner workings of high-level government affairs, but all she could feel was how bizarre everything was—like a jigsaw puzzle with one piece missing, and in its place, a chewed-up piece of gum had been forcefully jammed into the gap.

It might have fit the shape of the surrounding pieces, but something was still fundamentally wrong.

"Excuse me, why was the site for the welfare housing chosen for redevelopment within Blackmoor City, instead of in the suburbs?"

During the Q&A session, a reporter asked a very pointed question.

"The highest projected cost right now is the land acquisition for the welfare housing site. With the same amount of funding, building housing in the suburbs would accommodate far more people than the current plan. Mr. Oliver, what is your reasoning for this decision? And what efforts have you made to prevent issues like backroom deals and misappropriation of funds?"

Despite the pointed question, the mayor seemed to have come prepared.

He opened a file and fluently recited a series of statistics, including population data on low-income groups, their regional distribution, educational prospects, employment rates, land values, and so on.

Finally, Mayor Oliver said, almost passionately, "...I don’t want this project to devolve into a means of driving low-income groups out of Blackmoor City. Forcing them away from Blackmoor City’s resources and opportunities would only turn the welfare housing district into a slum. I hope to bridge the gap between class incomes and give low-income groups a foothold to continue living, working, and receiving an education in Blackmoor City."

Not only Mai Mingle, but even the reporter who asked the question seemed satisfied with the answer.

If one ignored the matter of Oliver’s face, he was actually a competent mayor. Mai Mingle’s apartment had been rented for forty years, and her rent was still the same as it was four decades ago. And yet, she had known Hai Luwei for only a few days and had already felt, from the little things she’d seen, the heavy weight of rent and housing prices pressing down on young people.

"So, when do you expect the project to break ground, and how many years will it take?" another male reporter asked.

Compared to the last one, this question was undoubtedly much easier to answer, but Mayor Oliver paused for a moment.

He raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the rows of reporters to glance at Mai Mingle in the corner of the room.

’Why is he looking at me?’ Mai Mingle was taken aback.

"I’m sorry, give me one minute,"

Mayor Oliver stood up, beaming, picked up a notepad from his desk, and jotted something down. Then he rose to his feet and, without giving anyone a chance to react, strode over to Mai Mingle.

Many faces turned to follow his steps.

The confused gazes and low murmurs were left behind him as Oliver slowly lowered his puffy, swollen, snow-white face toward her.

"Take a look at this number," he said, handing the notepad to Mai Mingle.

She glanced down at it.

The number was huge, large enough to make a muscle in her face twitch, but not so large that she didn’t realize it was a monetary amount.

"If the number is acceptable, give me the item now," Mayor Oliver said in a low voice. "Once the press conference is over..."

He didn’t finish his sentence, but that didn’t stop Mai Mingle from understanding.

She wasn’t worried that a mayor would welsh on a debt. Besides, even if Oliver had only offered a single dollar, she would have had to sell the lipstick to him. Only by selling it to him could she get the next Illusion Report.

’But... why now?’

The gazes of everyone in the room pressed down on her. Someone softly called out "Mayor" a few times. Several reporters whispered to each other for a moment, then hastily began scribbling in their notepads... All attention was focused on Mai Mingle. Even the air seemed to form an invisible, pressing urgency.

After a moment’s thought, she took out the lipstick and placed it in Mayor Oliver’s hand.

’...Isn’t this the entire purpose of my trip?’

Mayor Oliver clenched his hand around the lipstick, straightened up, and strode back to his desk.

"Pardon me, I haven’t had any water today, and my lips are a bit dry."

In front of everyone, he applied the lipstick to his lips twice.

The lipstick went on colorless, and no one seemed to suspect it was anything other than chapstick.

"Now, to answer the previous question."

The mayor sat back down behind his desk and said with a wide, puffy smile, "I’m sure everyone hopes the project can begin as soon as possible, right? The date is set for December 1st."

"...Tomorrow?" Someone in the crowd gasped. "Oh, you mean December 2027?"

"No, I mean tomorrow. Ten o’clock tomorrow morning," the mayor said, still maintaining his swollen, bloated smile. "Everyone wants the project to break ground immediately and be completed as soon as possible, don’t they? The sooner it’s finished, the sooner it can be opened to the public..."

Mai Mingle couldn’t help but glance at the time on her phone. It was 2:30 p.m. on November 30th. ’Tomorrow?’

’What kind of project can complete all the land transaction procedures and construction preparations in a single day and break ground immediately?’

As expected, a wave of questions and doubts washed over the office.

The mayor, however, remained unhurried and answered each one. First, he acknowledged that one day was indeed a very short time. But, he added, since everyone wanted the project to start early, he had expedited the process.

"Where there’s a will, there’s a way," he said. "As long as we speed things up, why can’t the project start ahead of schedule?"

"One day might not be enough for others," "but it’s enough for me." "The land transaction procedures are already complete." "The land transaction process is proceeding smoothly." ...

One after another, justifications poured from his mouth like a dense flock of birds crossing the sky, leaving one almost breathless.

At first, Mai Mingle tried to keep track of what he was saying, but soon she couldn’t remember anything, becoming like a leaf on the surface of the water. The mayor’s speech was like a wave; wherever the wave pushed her, she went. She could only remember what the mayor was saying in that exact moment.

Whether his words were reasonable, what was wrong with them, which pieces of information were true and which were false... she could no longer keep track of any of it.

Like an exchange of gunfire, the back-and-forth between the two sides lasted for more than ten minutes. Gradually, the reporters fell silent. The questions and doubts dwindled, until finally, they disappeared completely.

The signing and press conference smoothly came to a close.

When the dust had settled and everyone had left, Mai Mingle remained seated, still a bit dumbfounded. ’People these days are really something, able to get such a huge project started in just one day.’

’Never mind his shady dealings with the Nest, he’s surprisingly capable—’

Her vision was filled by a snow-white Noh mask.

Mai Mingle flinched, shrinking back so suddenly she nearly hit the back of her head.

"Here, just as we agreed," the mayor said, still beaming as he handed her a check. "I am very grateful. You have made a great contribution to Blackmoor City."

Mai Mingle numbly took the check.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and the familiar sound of an Amber Alert rang out.