Illusion Report

The "Back-Rider" Resident’s sharp, loud cry of pain echoed urgently within the stone house in Mai Mingle’s mind, making her eardrums ache. "My back!"

"I want my back!"

Accompanied by the shriek, a hurried shadow slid off Emily’s back and lunged toward the blurry edges of Mai Mingle’s vision, like a bug scrambling for its life after someone flipped on the lights.

"My back my back my back my back when I was little my dad carried me on his back the warm sun shone on my back lying on his back I could see so far I could see a safe and stable life ahead of me my back my back I want my—"

That string of words was like a chain of exploding neurons in her brain. As the bio-electric sparks died out, the voice vanished without a trace in an instant, along with the "Back-Rider" Resident.

’Rules... Rules... Emily...’

Mai Mingle was clearly standing on the sidewalk, an old woman clutching her neck from behind, yet at the same time, she felt as if she were crouching in that stone house. The stone ceiling pressed down so hard she couldn’t lift her head, and the only parts of her body with any feeling left were her legs and feet.

So even though her head was physically being forced high into the air, she still felt she had to strain to roll her eyes upward, just to barely make out the lower half of Emily’s body.

"Quick..."

The old woman tightened her grip, squeezing Mai Mingle’s voice into a ghostly whisper again. "Tear up... the true rule..."

"Wh-what’s happening?"

Emily was mumbling, "Did I get hit...? The true rule... where is it?"

’Isn’t it right there on the ground?’ When the "Back-Rider" Resident fled, it had dropped a folded, crumpled piece of paper—

"I can’t see. Why can’t I see? I can’t feel my face—"

Accompanying her panicked voice was a panicked hand, but only one of them. It was her right hand, reaching back and fumbling around.

’...What about her left hand?’

Mai Mingle was in no state to think or judge clearly, yet she had to keep fighting the old woman’s strength, struggling for what little pathetic sanity she had left.

’Could Emily’s left hand, still clutching her phone, be stuck in the gap between the windows?’

’The old woman did say that Emily had attracted two residents.’

Now, Emily’s back was normal again, but she was still crouching on the ground.

As she glanced from side to side, her light brown ponytail twitched rapidly behind her head, but she never turned around. With her right hand, Emily was still fumbling and scrabbling on the ground behind her. "Right, if I find the true rule, I might have a chance to go back to normal..."

’...It seemed like she hadn’t heard Mai Mingle’s order to tear up the rule at all.’

Mai Mingle froze for a moment. Then she realized it was perfectly normal that Emily hadn’t heard her.

Because two different sounds were coming from her own mouth at the same time.

One was the faint order that Mai Mingle had squeezed out with all her might; the other was the old woman’s loud, sputtering, uncontrollable laughter.

In fact, it was surprising enough that Emily had managed to make out the words "the true rule" from beneath the laughter.

’In other words, she couldn’t count on Emily anymore.’

Just as Emily’s fingertips brushed across the paper a few times and finally snagged a corner, Mai Mingle clenched her jaw and desperately took another step forward. She stomped her foot down on the paper at the exact moment Emily yanked it toward her. With a RIIIP, the paper tore apart.

"Handyman..."

"What a pain," a voice that sounded like a clanking bunch of keys suddenly rang out. "It’s just torn in half. It’s not like you can’t read it. Can’t you just put the pieces together yourselves?"

"What?" Emily said, startled. "Who are you?"

Mai Mingle threw her full weight onto the paper, grinding it viciously under her heel. She shredded the paper and its inky text, forcing the remains into the grime-filled cracks between the sidewalk pavers.

No one would be able to read this true rule ever again.

After a few seconds of silence, the Poster sighed.

"Alright, loosen your grip for now," it said reluctantly. "Tough luck. You can’t kill her until I’ve put up a new rule."

The old woman let out a stream of sharp curses, so foul and filthy one almost had to admire their creativity.

"I’ll be right back," the Poster promised. "Two minutes—no, sixty seconds. I’ll be back with the rule, all posted, in sixty seconds."

’...Only sixty seconds?’

’She’d nearly killed herself just to buy one minute?’

With that guarantee, the old woman finally began to withdraw from Mai Mingle’s mind. The roof of the stone house she had created slowly began to rise. Although the stone ceiling still loomed overhead and the old woman’s hands were still around her neck, Mai Mingle could finally gasp in a bit of oxygen and feel her own body again.

Mai Mingle’s first instinct was to desperately claw at the old woman’s hands, but they remained firmly wrapped around her neck. They weren’t squeezing any tighter, but they were also nearly impossible to push away.

’...At least, not with her own physical strength alone.’

She blinked.

The Poster was already gone.

Emily sat on the road up ahead, her back to Mai Mingle. One of her hands was stuck in the gap, while the other seemed to be lifting, about to touch her own face.

"Emily," she called, keeping her voice as calm and gentle as she could. "I need your gun right now. Give me the gun, and I’ll figure out a way to get us out of here."

Emily paused.

She seemed to be trying her best to regain her composure. "What’s going on?"

As she spoke, she struggled to turn toward Mai Mingle, one hand still stuck. "Why can’t I feel my face anymore?"

Where her face should have been, there was now only a large, smooth, flat sheet of flesh. It trembled slightly as she turned, as if her head were a block of aspic with the front third sliced clean off.

Mai Mingle instinctively looked away, then forced her eyes back.

The front third of Emily’s head was gone, but her neck and body were intact. The pistol was still tucked into her waistband.

"I’m trying, but a resident has me pinned, and I can’t bend down. I need you to hand me the gun right now. Time is short. You have to trust me."

Emily lifted that smooth, flat slab of aspic that should have been her face and remained silent for two agonizingly long seconds.

It was long enough to make Mai Mingle want to moan, beg, or curse—but finally, Emily drew the pistol and held it out aimlessly in the air.

"I’m counting on you..." Emily murmured.

With no nose, it was impossible to tell if her voice held a nasal tone or the sound of tears.

"What are you doing?" The old woman seemed to grow wary. "Bullets won’t—"

She didn’t get to finish. Mai Mingle had already twisted her arm back, jamming the muzzle into the crook of the old woman’s elbow, right at the joint, and squeezed the trigger.

The first bullet was like a leaf falling on a lake, causing only a barely perceptible ripple.

But Mai Mingle didn’t let go. Bullet after bullet hammered the exact same spot, repeatedly striking out and shaking the old woman’s arm. After an unknown number of shots, the old woman’s arm snapped like a severed rope and was sent flying high into the air.

An enraged howl echoed through the air.

The same trick that failed before had worked now. Because the Poster’s presence was meant to ensure "fairness," the old woman couldn’t just keep increasing her strength to resist the bullets.

Mai Mingle ducked low, finally breaking free from the old woman’s grasp.

Though her mind and body had yet to recover, she broke into a run, stumbling across the road in waves of dizziness.

"Where are you going?" Emily shouted from behind her. "Aren’t you going to save me?"

There was no time to answer. Rounding the corner, Mai Mingle already saw the Poster. It wore a brown work coat, and its face was sunk so deep into its head that it brought to mind a long, gloomy hallway with dying light bulbs—a deep, dark space, impossible to see clearly.

It carried a bucket of paste in one hand and a poster in the other.

Mai Mingle raised the pistol. Even without looking back, she knew the old woman was on the ground again, scrambling frantically toward her, already halfway across the road. She aimed at the poster in the Poster’s hand and fired, unleashing a rapid volley.

"Hey, what are you doing!"

The Poster yelled in anger, flinging its hand around as if the bullets actually hurt. "You ruined the poster again! Look at this, is it even legible? I’m telling you, if you keep this up you’re going to be punished—"

Mai Mingle was already sprinting away, leaving its angry shouts behind her.

As long as the new rule remained unposted, the nearby entities couldn’t attack the three of them. This was their only lifeline.

Mai Mingle roared "Move!" at the entrance to Tourist Information Center No. 07 and slammed the glass door open with her shoulder. Li Stan, stumbling and unable to dodge in time, was knocked head over heels. A long, thin esophagus swung in an arc across his cheek, and he hit the floor with a SPLAT.

"Don’t be scared," Mai Mingle said, turning back to the humanoid thing on the floor. "The residents nearby can’t attack people for now. Everything—all deterioration and transformation—is on pause."

In truth, when she got a clear look at Li Stan, she was even more scared than he was, and her words had faltered.

If it weren’t for the color of his clothes—a flash of fluorescent orange—tangled within the fleshy mass, and the supply bag lying beside it, she wouldn’t have recognized it as Li Stan at all.

’He’s already turned into... this? Even if we get out, can he ever go back to normal?’

"You... you go block the door. Don’t let that old woman in. Did you hear me? Can you still hear me? Answer me."

Given Li Stan’s current state, just which part of him was supposed to extend an arm to block the door was a mystery.

"Got it..." he said indistinctly. "The map... be careful..."

Mai Mingle snapped her head around, her eyes scanning the Tourist Information Center.

The thing that had tried to trick her into letting it out earlier had also mentioned that there was an Old Port Map in the Tourist Information Center. So that part hadn’t been a lie.

On a rack on the reception hall wall, in the most conspicuous spot, was an Old Port Map—or rather, something that happened to look exactly like an Old Port Map. It wore a deadpan expression, remaining perfectly still, pretending to be inanimate.

With a BANG, the old woman slammed into the glass door, making Mai Mingle jump.

She glanced back, made her decision, and snatched the "Old Port Map," gripping it in her hand.

The map stifled a laugh.

"Get ready,"

Mai Mingle said to Li Stan on the floor, "We’re taking Emily and busting out of here together."