Recap
A cold kiss fell on his nape, making his body shudder. The kiss wasn’t a kiss — it was like a damp snake’s tongue, marking him, like fangs piercing prey. A kiss of death.
“When it gets dark, okay? Teacher.”
“…Okay.”
From that day on, Shen Ji no longer looked forward to nightfall.
When night came, heavy chains wove into nets, becoming necklaces on his body. Shackles no longer bound only his feet, but also his neck, displaying beauty at the edge of fragility.
The thick night had barely begun, yet the monster beneath him was already impatient, sighing with endless hunger.
His body swayed as he crawled out of the muddy swamp, staggering into the bathroom to wash himself clean.
Outside, the neighbor had been waiting for a long time, holding a bowl of homemade breakfast. The steaming aroma of rice porridge drifted through the air, wetting the appetite of the starving man.
Shen Ji’s stomach ached with hunger, but when he looked at the sticky porridge, he couldn’t bring himself to eat — in fact, he felt like vomiting.
“Not to your taste?” The neighbor stood behind him, fingers combing through his hair.
Hearing the question, Shen Ji instinctively averted his gaze. A flash of deep disgust crossed his eyes. He muttered, “I’m not hungry.”
The neighbor laughed, as if hearing a child’s sulky protest. His laughter carried the indulgence of someone in control. He left briefly, then returned with a plate of cookies and a glass of water.
“Try this. It should taste good.”
Shen Ji took a bite, no longer refusing, chewing slowly until he finished.
After eating, his long hair had been tidied. Clean clothes wrapped his scarred body. The neighbor tucked the hem of Shen Ji’s shirt into his pants, his movements practiced and tender as he circled his waist.
Looking in the mirror, Shen Ji saw his hair braided, the end bound with a decorative ribbon that seemed impossible to undo.
Staring at the carefully woven braid, Shen Ji remembered last night’s net. His mood sank uncontrollably, as though his body was tilting into a bottomless abyss.
The neighbor pressed down on his shoulders, eyes shifting as if appraising his possession. That gaze grew terrifying.
Under the invisible pressure, Shen Ji stayed silent. His obedient posture resembled a beautiful lamb, stirring both pity and malice in the depths of the heart. The neighbor’s eyes narrowed with desire, and he bent down to kiss Shen Ji’s cheek.
“Teacher, I wish you success.”
…
On the fourth-floor corridor, Shen Ji unexpectedly found the actor’s and the old woman’s doors closed.
The empty building was filled with deathly silence. Even the air no longer moved. Shen Ji felt as if he were standing inside a coffin. The lid was sealed, but before him lay a way to open it — he only needed to choose.
The mutation had begun when he opened the door on the seventh floor. That door became the source of the mutation. After returning from the dream, all the doors that had once been open were now shut. Did that mean there was more than one source?
On the seventh floor lived a homeless man. Behind his door was a sanatorium. If the world behind the door was a fragment of someone’s life, then what about the actor? What kind of world lay behind his door?
Why had the actor appeared in the sanatorium as a caretaker?
Opening the door might free him from the coffin — or lead him straight to hell.
But if he did nothing, he would be trapped in hell forever.
Shen Ji reached out and pushed open the actor’s door.
Light and shadow blurred, magnifying everything hidden in the cracks. Noise burst forth first — voices and cicada cries tangled together, like a symphony of lucid dreams. When the dazzling vision finally quieted, Shen Ji saw a paradise.
Afternoon sunlight filtered through lush leaves, shattering across the buildings of the park. Crowds passed by with radiant smiles. Clouds so white they glowed seemed to turn into the surface of the sea, luring homeless wanderers to rest. The next instant, waves surged, a roar filled his ears, and the world overturned.
Shen Ji opened his eyes to see a real ceiling, not the lofty heaven above.
“Kid, you’re awake. How do you feel? Still dizzy?” The speaker was an old man in a security guard’s uniform, smiling as he fetched a glass of water.
“Here, drink some. It’s peak season now, they’re pushing hard. With the weather being this hot and wearing that thick mascot suit — even if it doesn’t kill you, it’ll take a layer of your skin off. It’s no wonder how often people get heatstroke these days.”
Shen Ji sat up, scanning the shabby room. His gaze lingered briefly on the mascot costume in the corner, then shifted away as he accepted the water.
“Thanks, uncle.”
The old man beamed, wrinkles glowing with youthful joy. “Ha! You rascal, calling me uncle? I’m old enough to be your grandfather! But I like it. Keep calling me that.”
Outside, daylight still shone. Shen Ji glanced at the window. “I feel better. I can keep working.”
The old man pressed him back onto the bed. “Rest. The sky will be dark in no time. Besides, you’ve got night duty later. Take the chance to sleep. Don’t worry — the manager’s too busy these days to bother you!”
The actor, after healing his leg, had once worked as a magician in an amusement park, middle-aged at the time. But here, he was acting as a young staff member by day, a security guard by night. Judging by the old man’s attitude, his identity this time was very young indeed.
He flexed his legs while they spoke. Though the old man forced him back onto the bed, his intuition told him his legs weren’t broken — no limp, no injury like the actor’s.
So where had the actor gone, if this was his world?
As Shen Ji pondered, he glanced into the water cup. His unguarded gaze collided with an eyeball floating inside. His heart jolted. Looking again, it was only clear water.
Without betraying emotion, he raised the cup as if to drink. In that fleeting moment, he caught the old man’s eyes quietly withdrawing.
The old man sat at the security booth window, his body turned sideways. That withdrawn glance chilled Shen Ji’s back — as though the old man had been watching him from the corner of his eye all along.
Shen Ji lowered his gaze, feigning ignorance.
Young, dull, poor — Shen Ji quickly built the image of a taciturn youth in his mind.
Because he was young, he had been assigned to a job no one else wanted. In the sweltering summer, he stood at the amusement park gate in a mascot suit, a living advertisement.
Even if he collapsed from exhaustion, drenched in sweat, fainted from heatstroke, he would never abandon his post or trouble his coworkers. He swallowed everything. Perhaps inside he carried a whole world, but in reality, defeated by life, he numbed himself with endless work.
By day, he wore the mascot suit, no longer human.
By night, he became a walking corpse, part of the park itself.
A filthy mascot, wearing a rabbit mask — would he meet Alice too?
Alice belonged to Wonderland. But here was Heaven. The mascot and rabbit mask belonged to Heaven. The next Alice to appear must also belong to Heaven.
___
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