Illusion Report

"...Secretary Green."

Brianna watched as Brianna spun around, a smile breaking across her face in the corridor light. Her own hair, eyes, and teeth caught the glow and shimmered, bright and full of life.

Brianna used to stand in front of the mirror and pick herself apart — her nose bridge was a touch too high, her lips not quite full enough... Morando would roll her eyes so hard they nearly hit the ceiling.

She stared at her, dazed.

This was, without question, the most beautiful face in the world.

Fu Tailan had draped her beauty around himself like soft silk, worn it like a white waterfall crashing down — so vivid and radiant it was almost frightening; and threading through all that light and mist was the faint, smoky smile that had always belonged to that boy.

He raised his hand, fingertips tracing lightly along the jawline that belonged to Brianna, finally coming to rest at her lips.

"You’ve got quite a knack for staying alive," Fu Tailan murmured.

"My luck might not be as impressive as your nerve," Brianna replied.

He must have originally planned to borrow Green’s identity — but the moment he realized that underneath Green’s shell was Westley’s daughter, how could he possibly let her live, then walk into the main building wearing Brianna’s face without missing a beat?

By any reasonable logic, wouldn’t Westley’s own daughter fight far harder to keep her father safe?

"Secretary Green, are you alright?" Dylan, who had been standing quietly to one side, looked her up and down and asked.

Under Dylan’s gaze, she finally snapped back and realized she’d been staring at "Brianna" without blinking.

Hadn’t he managed to slip into Green’s body — if Fu Tailan died right now died wearing Brianna’s face could she crawl into his body could she could she could she?

"I’m fine. I’ll take her to see Mr. Westley now," Brianna said, forcing herself back to the present.

"I’m aware Mr. Westley said we didn’t need to come." Dylan’s brow furrowed as he sized up Fu Tailan — clearly something instinctive in him didn’t trust the man. Bodyguards who’d risen to this level had razor-sharp instincts. "But I’d like you to suggest to him that this isn’t a good idea. Especially when... when there’s a meeting involved."

Brianna nodded patiently.

"I’ll call in some backup," Dylan added, still uneasy. "I’ll be on standby here. If anything happens and you need me in there, there still needs to be enough people covering this end."

"Your call," Brianna said, long past caring who stayed or went. She gave the response and turned to give Fu Tailan a nod, gesturing for him to follow.

Dylan didn’t waste a second; a few steps out, he already had his phone to his ear. "Ivan? Get over here now..."

She quickened her pace, leaving his voice behind her, and stepped into a pocket of stillness before speaking low.

"He’s going to die?"

It sounded like a question, but both of them knew it didn’t need an answer.

"You hate him?"

The mist that seemed permanently lodged in Fu Tailan’s throat had now seeped into Brianna’s long-absent voice. Whatever he said, it came wrapped in a smile — perhaps one of the cruelest ways there was to speak.

Brianna knew she didn’t need to answer that either.

"How do you know he’s dead?"

Without realizing it, she had already shifted to the past tense.

"I’m from November 26th,"

Fu Tailan said it as casually as if he were describing what he’d had for breakfast — Brianna stopped dead in her tracks, whipping her head toward him, and he added: "Don’t get so worked up you touch me, by the way. It’ll break the effect."

So the moment you touched him it would break and he’d go back to normal so there was no point killing him and putting on his skin no matter how good-looking he was he was still a man Morando wouldn’t even glance twice

Wait no hold on what did he just say

The 26th? Ten days from now?

She wasn’t as shocked as she might have expected. The Nest... anything was possible there.

As long as the future didn’t change...

"It’s already set," Fu Tailan said, almost as if he’d read her mind. "No matter what anyone does, it won’t change anymore."

For some reason, his voice dropped into an empty, hollow register — as if this fact brought him no satisfaction at all.

Understandable, really. If you went to all the trouble of traveling back to the past, only to find you couldn’t change a single thing — what was the point?

"Then why did you come back?" Brianna asked.

"...To make sure the past stays the way it is."

Fu Tailan spoke while fishing a crumpled half-cigarette from his pocket. "I didn’t expect this — but it’s starting to look like I’m the one who kills him."

"I don’t smoke that. He’ll know something’s off," Brianna warned.

Fu Tailan let out a long, heavy sigh and tucked it back away. "What did you tell him just now?"

She understood what he meant.

"You’re Vulture. After you became ’Brianna,’ you believed you’d just come back from the Nest yourself — that’s not unusual. My father and I have been working to get Vulture inside for a while."

Fu Tailan thought for a moment, then nodded.

"I see... A few days from now, I would indeed have started hearing rumors about Vulture entering the human world. But... why?"

"Why let Vulture come in?"

"No, that part’s obvious. I mean... why do you want him dead?"

It took Brianna a second or two to realize she had stopped walking without meaning to.

At the far end of the corridor, a thin line of light glowed steadily beneath the study door.

Dimly, she understood: she was standing in a hallway, and another version of her from the past was quietly asking her why she wanted their father to die.

...Why, exactly?

Right. Why was that again?

Brianna tilted her head to one side, mouth half-open, and stared blankly for a moment.

It wasn’t so much that she wanted him dead...

"Mm... more like," she said softly, "no matter how hard I try, I can’t think of a single reason he should be alive."

Fu Tailan stood in the shadow of the corridor. After a brief silence, he let out a quiet little "oh" and said, "I... I think I actually get that."

He turned back toward the study door and pointed. "In here?"

"Yes." Brianna smiled.

Fu Tailan walked over and, before pushing the door open, turned back to give her one last smile.

Shadow fell across his face, leaving only a sliver of light to catch the ridge of her brow and the dark of her pupils. The brightness set those eyes alight, burning in the dim; Brianna had never seen a resident more beautiful than herself.

"Play along nicely, big sis," he breathed.

"Big sis" — what a perceptive child. He hadn’t asked a single word about why she’d shown up wearing Green’s face. In that instant, Brianna thought she could almost like this kid.

She wouldn’t, of course. It would be like poison she drank with a smile — the kind you swallowed willingly, knowing full well what it was.

"Who’s there?" Westley’s voice came from inside the study, taut with tension.

Fu Tailan pushed open the door and called out, as naturally as breathing: "Dad, it’s me — Brianna."

Wasn’t this all just hysterical the world was such a strange and marvelous place it really made you want to laugh and laugh and laugh and never stop

Brianna heard the scrape of a chair against the floor as Westley shot to his feet.

Brianna heard the stretched, hanging silence that filled the room in that moment.

Brianna watched as Fu Tailan stepped into the study, every inch the dutiful daughter.

She followed two steps behind and saw Westley standing beside his desk, gaze fixed and unmoving on Fu Tailan — on Brianna — his lips trembling almost imperceptibly.

Looking back afterward, Westley had not been without his chances to turn things around that night.

After all this time, to suddenly see his daughter’s true face again — he could have said so many things. Enough to make Brianna waver.

"Is this really...?"

Westley’s eyes flickered, shifting from Fu Tailan back to Brianna. He asked again: "Are you really...?"

Brianna nearly laughed.

His words were vague, but she caught his meaning perfectly.

In that moment, what he feared was that Brianna hadn’t actually died. He was afraid that Brianna had teamed up with a man named Green and staged the whole thing.

Even after she had exhausted nearly every means at her disposal to prove herself to him.

Nearly — one method still remained, one she had always resisted with everything she had.

"Dad," she said, her voice almost calm, "if you don’t believe me, you can put me in the Black Cube."

Fu Tailan shot her a glance.

"No, no... that’s not what I meant." Westley waved it off and glanced at Fu Tailan again. "Of course I believe you. It’s just — Vulture is remarkable, isn’t it. A perfect copy. Feels completely like the real person."

"Dad, what are you talking about?" Fu Tailan furrowed his brow on cue. "What Vulture? Why does he also call you Dad?"

"It’s nothing. Just an adopted son of mine."

Westley dropped his head, cleared his throat, then looked back up and smiled at him. "Your timing is perfect, actually... there’s somewhere I’d like to take you. Something I want to show you."

He had taken Brianna’s suggestion: meet "Vulture" in the safe room.

But Westley still couldn’t fully settle his nerves. He didn’t dare walk alone between his two daughters.

He called Dylan and had him follow to stand guard outside the safe room. Before they went in, Dylan "proactively" patted Brianna down — the gun she had emptied was already back at the security center; she had nothing on her.

Fu Tailan said he refused to let a man search him, and took off his jacket of his own accord, running himself through the metal detector — presumably the Illusion at work, because he somehow looked like he was wearing a fairly fitted women’s outfit; a quick check of the waistband and cuffs left nowhere to hide anything.

Westley already seemed convinced he was Vulture. He nodded, and Dylan didn’t push further.

Even so, after pressing his thumb to the first door’s sensor, Westley had second thoughts and went back outside to murmur something to Dylan.

When Westley came back down, Brianna noticed the slight bulge at his waist — a short stun baton, newly added.

...He had no firearms training, and he knew a gun in his own hands would only make him less safe.

Iris scan, voiceprint, vein recognition, passcode... Westley worked through every verification layer for the safe room, barely suppressing a low undercurrent of excitement, and opened the second door.

He turned to Brianna. "You wait outside. If I need you, I’ll open the door from inside."

Even after exhausting every precaution he could think of, he still couldn’t let it go — he wanted to go in alone with "Vulture."

"But..."

"Don’t worry," he said, lowering his voice. "I’ve thought of a way to try and lure it back out. The moment it steps out, I’ll slam the door shut from behind—"

Westley stopped mid-sentence.

His eyes slid sideways in their sockets. After two seconds, he turned and looked at Fu Tailan, who had already stepped into the safe room ahead of him.

Westley studied his back, and a low, puzzled sound came from somewhere in his throat.

Fu Tailan stood with his back to them both, hands clasped behind him, head tilted up, staring at the Black Cube as it loomed before him, edges flared and furious.

Brianna suddenly realized that she wasn’t touching Westley right now, yet the Black Cube was perfectly, unmistakably visible in front of her — which meant Fu Tailan could see it too.

How could she see it? Without touching Westley, wasn’t she supposed to be blind to it?

Could it be that whether the Black Cube "hid itself" from others was actually a configurable setting?

It was entirely possible that Westley had simply never told her...

"Brianna...?" Westley called out, his voice rough and dry.

Fu Tailan turned his head with an almost docile grace, a small smile on his lips. "What is it, Dad?"

...Something was wrong.

There was one thing she hadn’t told Fu Tailan — because she hadn’t thought it would matter.

Westley’s eyes were slowly widening, bulging. He seemed to be grasping the truth of it, even if he couldn’t yet fully make sense of what he was grasping.

"You... you’re not afraid of the Black Cube anymore?"