Illusion Report

If anyone were to glance down the street toward the Tourist Information Center right now, they would probably assume the three Hunters there were all but finished.

The figure seen from behind the glass door still appeared calm and human-shaped. Only by getting closer could one hear the faint, muttered words: "...My name is Li Li-li-li-li-li, Stansis Humans are the top locker in the second row from the right, I live in a cavity in the second molar on the right side of Miss Smiths’s mouth—she’s the history teacher at Rose Hill High in Blackmoor Queen District..."

Emily still had her head turned, facing the wall and the crack, with the back of her head toward the street. Her black hair slowly extended downward, flowing onto the sidewalk. Beneath the hair were two bare, curled legs. Her skin was dry and chapped, and her yellowed toenails were long, thick, and twisted, digging into the ground.

One of her hands, clutching a phone, was plunged deep into a dark crevice, all the way up to her shoulder. As if numb and devoid of all thought, Emily didn’t move a muscle. It seemed that as long as no one disturbed her, she could remain squatting there forever.

Mai Mingle had also been motionless for quite some time. She stood like a statue, head bowed, holding the yellow warning poster in one hand and a photo of the poster in the other.

’This strange sense of dissonance, without a doubt, comes from the contradictions between the rules themselves.’

Mai Mingle’s gaze returned to the photo on her phone.

2. Resist the temptations of the "Tourist Information Center."

You must calmly say no to the "Tourist Information Center."

Do not accept any brochures it offers you. Do not look at any brochures it offers you. Do not listen to its directions. No matter how it guarantees you a wonderful memory, do not purchase souvenirs. Do not carefully compare the differences between each "Tourist Information Center." Do not go inside. Do not turn your back to its main entrance.

...And so on.

Mai Mingle looked at this passage, wondering how she could have been so slow on the uptake. Only now did she notice the contradiction between these words and her actual experience.

’The contradiction has been sitting right in front of me this whole time... Why is there such a huge discrepancy between the rules and reality?’

’In that case, the fifth rule—"You must follow the rules on this warning poster and trust no other guidelines"—clearly implies that other sets of rules exist nearby. But where are they? Why haven’t I seen them?’

The more Mai Mingle thought about it, the more she felt her deductions were heading in the right direction. But it was still just a guess. To confirm it, she had to find the third piece of the torn poster.

She lifted her head and first glanced at the sky.

The sky remained a sullen, dim gray, like an utterly exhausted face.

Mai Mingle scanned her surroundings again.

A short while ago, when she first met Emily, the first thing she’d noticed was the fluorescent orange tag on Emily’s chest. She still remembered the feeling of that moment—as if it were the only spot of bright color between heaven and earth.

Now, looking closely again... it wasn’t her imagination.

Everything around her was as dim and tired as the sky. Even where there was color—the red bricks, the brass plaques, the green trash can, the posters in the windows—it was as if everything was coated in a thick layer of grimy dust. You had to look carefully to even guess what the original colors were supposed to be.

But the warning poster in her hand, printed with the rules, was an exception.

The warning poster was brand new. The half still stuck to the electrical box was perfectly flat, having seen neither wind nor rain. Even the piece in her hand, though crumpled into a ball, was still a brilliant yellow...

On this gray, bleak street, she had seen this brilliant yellow three times.

The half-poster on the electrical box, the crumpled ball of poster she’d found in the trash can, and one other time—she had seen this yellow once before—

’Where was it?’

As Mai Mingle’s head shot up, she even heard a "CRACK" from her own neck.

She remembered.

Mai Mingle spun around and sprinted back the way she came, leaving Li Stan and Emily behind. She dashed to the intersection, took a sharp turn, and stopped dead in her tracks.

In front of the Tourist Information Center, Number 17, an old woman wrapped in tattered robes was squatting on the ground, hunched over. She was pressing her hands tightly over her mouth, desperately muffling her laughter, but her shoulders still shook with convulsions. Beneath her sparse, graying eyebrows, her eyes were two crescent-shaped black slits.

"...Contestant Mai Mingle,"

A muffled voice emerged from behind a pair of hands with loose, wrinkled skin covered in age spots. As she spoke, the old woman shuffled a step closer to Mai Mingle and finally let out a chuckle.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, waiting waiting waiting, thanks to them for holding you here for so long, I’ve finally found you, come on over, we old sisters need to have a good talk-talk-talk-talk—"

With every word, it shuffled one step forward while squatting. As the words began to spew out at high speed, the old woman’s squatting legs became a blur of motion, like a giant spider. In the blink of an eye, it had lunged close to Mai Mingle.

Before she could turn and flee, Mai Mingle still remembered to glance at the display window of the Tourist Information Center, Number 17.

On the three theater posters standing side-by-side, the middle one depicted a small figure surrounded by a crowd, holding a yellow piece of paper high in the air.

The third piece of the rules poster was hidden inside the poster.

But she didn’t have time to read the text on the final piece—’How do you fire this thing? Does the safety open like this? Then just aim and pull the trigger?’

Mai Mingle fumbled with the pistol as she fled, frantic and flustered, nearly dropping it on the ground.

The old woman scuttled across the ground in her squat, but her speed was far greater than Mai Mingle’s. Before Mai Mingle could figure out how to fire the gun, it had already overtaken her and blocked her path again.

The old woman squatted in the road ahead, her hands gradually parting from her face.

"Since we already know each other know each other know each other it would be rude to keep covering my mouth so I’ll let you see my face"

The first bullet she fired seemed very respectful of the old woman’s personal space; it didn’t even graze it, flying far over its head and into the void.

Mai Mingle hadn’t expected it. The pistol didn’t look very big, but its recoil was not to be underestimated. It felt as if someone had suddenly slammed a hammer into her shoulder, nearly knocking the gun from her hands.

Her hands were shaking violently, but she didn’t dare slow down. She re-aimed at the old woman’s head and fired several more shots. BANG! BANG!

The instant the old woman’s hands completely separated from her face, a bullet finally struck the center of its forehead.

At such close range, the bullet’s force was immense. It snapped its head back, bending its neck and body into a ninety-degree angle.

...’I didn’t see it. I didn’t see it.’

For a moment, that was the only sound in Mai Mingle’s mind.

’I didn’t see the old woman’s face. Since it wants me to see it, I absolutely cannot see its face—’

The inhabitants cannot be killed by bullets.

As the old woman’s neck slowly straightened from its ninety-degree angle, Mai Mingle grabbed the supply bag that was, miraculously, still slung over her shoulder.

She yanked open the zipper, not caring as items clattered out. With a swing of her arm, she threw the entire bag over the old woman’s head, then turned and ran, sprinting back toward the Tourist Information Center, Number 17.

’It’s not like it doesn’t have hands. Can’t it just knock the bag off its head in an instant?’

Mai Mingle cursed herself for not having a better plan, all while praying the old woman would be delayed for just a bit longer. She skidded to a halt in front of the display window. Unsure how much time she had, she immediately pressed her face against the glass and narrowed her eyes. The edges of the poster-within-the-poster were indeed jagged, looking like they would connect perfectly with the second piece of the rules poster.

’What does it say?’

She cupped a hand beside her eyes to block the ambient light and strained to see. At last, she could faintly make out the words on the poster.

This police notice is effective starting:

December 1, 2026

Every curse word Mai Mingle had ever known flashed through her mind.

’Today is November 24, 2026. This means all the rules I’ve found so far aren’t even in effect yet?’

’What kind of hellish joke is this?’

It was to avoid breaking the rules that she and Emily had kept their distance, that they hadn’t gone directly into the Tourist Information Center to search for a map. If they had known the rules weren’t in effect, would Emily still have fallen into its trap? Would they have wasted so much time here?

If it weren’t for Mai Mingle, the others might not have had to go through this ordeal at all.

’No wonder it contradicted reality... Where are the real rules?’

’It’s probably just as that old woman said. There’s something else nearby, doing everything it can to muddy the waters—’

The old woman.

As Mai Mingle straightened up from the glass, her reflection was no longer the only one in the window.

The old woman came around the corner, still covering its mouth, squat-crawling—is it called crawling when you’re squatting?—It reached the display window, a step or two behind Mai Mingle, and its legs began to straighten, to rise, as it slowly stood up.

"Tuuurn...arooound..."

The old woman’s arms were no longer on its face. They dangled to the ground like long electrical wires, spreading out in a semicircle that perfectly encircled Mai Mingle.

"Let’s...chaaat..."

Even knowing she absolutely could not look, Mai Mingle felt an indescribable impulse to lift her eyes and see the old woman’s face in the reflection. It was like the call of the void when one stands at the edge of a cliff—an undercurrent of an urge, not to die, but to jump nonetheless.

She fought the urge, fixing her gaze on the other corner of the display window.

The old woman took a step toward her. Then another, and another.

It stood right behind Mai Mingle, pressed up against her.

"Let me help you...tuuurn...your head...one hundred...and eighty...degrees. Then we old sisters can have a nice chat-chat-chat-chat-chat."

As its hands closed around Mai Mingle’s neck, her voice squeezed out of a narrow crack—whether from the physical pressure or from sheer terror, it was hard to say.

"Poster Hanger!" she cried out, her eyes squeezed shut and her voice trembling. "There’s a problem with the rules here! Poster Hanger, come out!"