Doomsday Wonderland

Less than twenty minutes ago, when Wu Yiliu had recorded the oral message for Milan to avoid this place and was about to send out the paper crane, he accidentally opened the wings of the paper crane a bit - and then his eyes couldn't move away. On the pale blue and white surface of the right wing, near the folded edge, there was a blue-black ballpoint pen mark. He was all too familiar with this mark. When he had pretended to receive a donation from the bald fat man that day, he accidentally drew this mark on the paper crane; he didn't take it to heart, only hesitating and reluctantly taking it to the central control room.

Wu Yiliu watched wide-eyed as Pisces put it into a long drawer, even recalling the sound of the guard's photograph being taken at the time. Any Special Item donated to the fake pocket dimension would be passed from hand to hand, ultimately handed to the mastermind behind the fake pocket dimension.

Now, the paper crane had gone full circle and returned to his eyes. He never expected that the hand that passed it belonged to Milan. Before today, Wu Yiliu had always thought that this mastermind must be a Changeling. Perhaps a group they formed, or a temporary department, the items would eventually be handed over to some influential person. But he had never considered one thing: could the person who originally proposed the idea of the fake pocket dimension really be a Changeling?

He only thought of it now, too late indeed, but he did remember a detail that hadn't caught his attention at the time. The donations received were placed in a drawer-like Special Item by the duty staff and handed over to the mastermind. If the mastermind was a Changeling, to whom did the drawer belong?

In his hazy vision, Milan tilted her head, her eyes dark and shiny, as if they could pierce through anyone. She was transported here six months before doomsday; how long had she been working with the Changelings?

'No wonder,' Wu Yiliu thought, as he coughed violently. No wonder the news reached Milan's ears so quickly that day when he was inquiring about the posthuman's whereabouts. He even blamed himself at the time, thinking Milan must have turned some local into her spy. Why didn't he think deeper?

When he and Professor Qiao were caught by Huanzi, his whole mind was confused by the sudden mention of "Shoreis," so although he felt something was missing, he couldn't figure out what was wrong.

Now it seemed that what had struck him as strange was how quickly Huanzi's trust in him had changed. The last time he had dealt with Huanzi, she clearly thought he was a spy for the fake pocket dimension side, and everything she said was a lie. But when she became suspicious of Professor Qiao, she accurately mentioned Shoreis' name.

The question he should have asked himself then was not "How did she know the name Shoreis?" but "Since Huanzi trusts me, why would she inquire about Shoreis behind my back?"

This meant that another person, someone who knew the authenticity of Professor Qiao's experience, had somehow learned Shoreis' about. Perhaps to tip Huanzi off, they told the gaunt woman, leading to the subsequent twists and turns.

Huanzi was not alone in driving the entire fake pocket dimension trap; there was always another person lurking, faint and shadowy—like a faint shape mixed with the shadows of swaying branches, but pedestrians probably wouldn't notice.

Milan suddenly sighed.

"Back in school, my exam scores were always lower than I expected," she said, sounding almost annoyed. "When I looked at the paper, the mistakes were all due to carelessness with the details. Although I knew how to do all the questions, I just couldn't correct my carelessness."

She tucked a curl of broken hair behind her ear, and it immediately sprang back up.

"Now that I've become a posthuman, I still haven't corrected this flaw," she said unhappily, her black lashes lowering as she looked at Wu Yiliu. "Not only did I overlook the mark on the paper crane... A perfectly good plan, and you've turned it into this mess. I know the main responsibility is yours, but if I were more careful, more ruthless, perhaps the situation wouldn't be so bad."

'Try to talk to her more.' Right now, whether it was his angry desire to know the truth or his hurt and tired, dizzy and weak body, it all meant he needed to delay time as much as possible.

"All, everyone, Huanzi, the consular officer..." He leaned against the trunk of the tree, feebly raising his head. "Were they all under you?"

"I wouldn't dare say they were under me," Milan said, tilting her head. "In each of their eyes, they see me differently. Huanzi thought I was with her in the fake pocket dimension at the same time, and the consular officer thought I was recruited later... Like you, before today, didn't you think I had nothing to do with the fake pocket dimension?"

Wu Yiliu leaned against the tree, replying to her with only silence.

"The person who spoke with the consular officer was also me. Who else did you think was running around capturing people at the exit of the fake pocket dimension? Not to boast, but not everyone has my skills."

Milan stood up straight, hands on her hips. She glanced in the direction of the fake pocket dimension, looking like a girl watching her friend cause trouble in school but unable to do anything about it.

"I was delayed a bit by Professor Qiao, and by the time I reached the center of the fake pocket dimension, it was already too late. Fortunately, I was quick to respond, or I'd now be carrying around a mini-doomsday pocket dimension everywhere... Oh, I would've had to hide in some remote mountains and forests for the remaining months. Hmm, it looks like I probably need to hide now."

"What... what do you want?" Wu Yiliu almost couldn't believe the lightness with which she spoke—as the mastermind behind the fake pocket dimension, her attitude towards him at this moment was far too casual.

Milan showed no caution toward his tactics, no anger or impatience at his disruption of her plans, no malice or hostility, no great joy in catching him, no anticipation of removing a thorn in her side—just a little annoyance, a bit of unhappiness, but overall, she acted as if she'd been accidentally stepped on.

She didn't even reveal a desire to kill Wu Yiliu.

"What do you mean, what?" Milan said, blinking at his question. "The plan I arranged for this world has been ruined by you. Now, I'll find myself a quiet place to live for a few months and then leave. What else can I do?"

Wu Yiliu stared at her, his sharp mind still shocked and speechless. What shocked him was a feeling he generated. "You... for you, the fake pocket dimension plan... is it not that important?"

Milan tilted her head to think, her slender, beautiful neck shining in the faint light with a milky chocolate gloss, sparkling as if dusted with gold.

"I can't say it isn't important," she replied. "After all, if successful, the belongings of all the posthumans who transformed here would be 'washed' out and end up in my hands. I had planned to come back after every teleport, leaving the Changelings to manage things. Life is easy here, with safety and plenty of resources, and I could easily collect Special Items... Alas, how did it come to this?"

She paused, then added, "If it fails, there's nothing to do but look for opportunities elsewhere next time. Hmm, I understand what you mean. From this perspective..."

Milan started laughing, showing her pearly white teeth as she said, "Your world and the people in it, what happens to them isn't that important to me. Would the fact that some Irishman cooked an onion for breakfast in 1895 be important to you?"

Wu Yiliu didn't understand the reference in the last sentence, but he understood the meaning.

If he had the strength to lunge forward and smash a fist into Milan's face, he thought he would have done so already. His multiple injuries seemed to have saved his life, in retrospect.

"Since it's not important, why do you kill?" he said, his voice cracking as he stood upright against the tree trunk. "Fine, you're a posthuman, you're above it all. You don't care if people in this world are transformed or dead, so why did you kill Professor Qiao? Her death was clearly the work of a posthuman. It was you, wasn't it?"

In his anger, he even forgot that his life was in the palm of her hand, yelling hoarsely, "To prevent the operation from going awry, you followed the broadcast and found Professor Qiao and killed her, right? You just didn't expect that I was still in the pocket dimension, and I ruined your plan—"

The carefree expression on Milan's face from earlier disappeared. Her lips pursed, and although she hadn't moved, she suddenly seemed to be standing far away.

"Don't get me wrong," Milan said evenly. "First of all, I have no moral obligation to your world. Even the majority of the Changelings in your world don't care about what it will ultimately become. Even you ordinary, non-Changelings either shrink back or close your eyes. So, why can't I, a foreigner, take action when I see a profitable opportunity?

"If anyone has the right to condemn me, it would be those posthumans who were deceived into the fake pocket dimension, not you. But that's the law of the world of doomsday: whoever is one step ahead is the hunter; whoever is one step behind is the prey. If someone comes to seek revenge on me, I'll stand right here and face them. As for your Professor Qiao, it's true, I killed her.

"But," she said with a cold laugh, "I could kill a seventy-year-old woman with one stroke of a knife. So, why would I bother to slowly burn her to ashes? Haven't you thought about that?"

Wu Yiliu stared at her blankly, at a loss for words.

"I did her a big favor," Milan said lightly. "She begged me to let her go."

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