The peach blossoms at the street corner were in bloom. As evening fell, a few elderly people leaned on their canes and chatted under the trees, watching the children running back and forth in the open space.
This narrow street was a tourist strip. The handicraft shops lining both sides were doing brisk business, with shop owners scrambling to attract customers, hoping to make a day’s worth of sales before dark. The area had a poor reputation for safety; at night, thugs often stole or even committed armed robberies, so most shops closed their doors by six o’clock.
The lights in the small shops along the street dimmed one by one, but one doll shop remained brightly lit. Inside the glass display case stood a wooden cabinet; each shelf held four to six fully fired, painted doll heads, all missing their eyes. The hollow skulls looked somewhat eerie under the warm glow of the lights. Another wooden cabinet displayed ceramic hands and feet of various shapes on every shelf.
No one stood outside the shop to attract customers; only a blue-and-gold glass macaw hung from a wooden beam above the entrance. Occasionally, someone would come to pick up a custom-made doll.
The prices of these dolls are shockingly high, but if a bold and observant visitor dares to look closely, they will discover that each doll’s head and expression is completely unique. Every eyelash is distinct, and faint blue veins are visible beneath the rosy cheeks; the expressions are vivid and lifelike, truly justifying the price.
The shop’s glass doors are tightly shut, and even through the cracks in the two wooden display cases by the window, the shopkeeper is nowhere to be seen.
Inside the somewhat cramped shop stands a round table in a medieval European style, accompanied by matching stools. The long, narrow room is divided in the middle by a counter; behind it appears to be a workshop. shelving lined all three walls, piled high with unfinished dolls. On the floor, drawers held freshly fired but unpolished limbs and ball joints. The room was dimly lit, with only a warm-toned desk lamp illuminating the workbench in the corner.
A suit hangs on the wall, its jacket covered in plastic sheeting to protect the expensive fabric from the dust that fills the room.
The dollmaker, dressed in a plain work uniform and a dark brown leather apron with buckles, wore black half-finger gloves as he sat at the workbench. In his hands, he held a resin-made right forearm and hand, using a small knife and sandpaper to refine the details.
Eris sat on his workbench, his left hand cradling a stemmed glass in which the wine swayed gently. His right arm had vanished from the elbow down, exposing the spherical white bone joint and the blood-red stump. Although the arm, which had been severed by Bai Chunian, had regrown due to the test subject’s physiology, Eris always found it uncomfortable.
The puppet master attached the resin arm to the spherical joint at Eris’s elbow and asked him to try moving it.
“Did you make this yourself?” Eris raised the resin arm and clenched his fist; the five fingers moved with ease, though the arm, still unpainted, looked rather pale.
“No.” Nix showed him the receipt. “It’s an imported arm from France. The artist Moa’s name is engraved on the inside—it’s a collector’s item.”
“I don’t like it.” Eris scanned the floor littered with finished arms. “Pick one for me from these.”
Nix was used to his tantrums by now. He took off his gloves and rubbed his neck. “It’s almost time. You should go handle the task I assigned you.”
A soft, crisp crack of shattering glass echoed as he crushed the wine glass in his hand with his snow-white resin fingers. He held the sharp shard to Nix’s throat. “ “I’ll go once you’re done. Otherwise, I’ll saw this collector’s-item arm to pieces.”
Nix shot him a glance, then resignedly picked up a rough arm from the floor. He sat back down, put on his gloves, and smoothed the arm’s outer skin under the lamp, followed by the matching spherical joints and the right hand.
The right hand was intricate, composed of fourteen spherical joints and fragmented finger joints. Nix worked silently under the lamp, while Eris sat on the table, looking down at his golden hair falling across his forehead.
“Done.” Nix fitted him with the new ceramic right arm and tested the tendons in each finger. “This one’s cheap—and not nearly as sturdy as that one.”
“I don’t care. I like this one. It’s pretty.” Eris clenched his fist, his nimble fingers opening and closing before clasping Nix’s fingers. “Do you think an arm like this can feel pain and temperature?”
“No.” Nix gave a perfunctory laugh.
“Yes, it can.” The light green of Eris’s eyes reflected the desk lamp and the snow-white ceramic arm. “It’s warm—a little over thirty-six degrees. It’s a temperature I don’t have.”
“By the way, is your name engraved inside?” Eris asked.
“No.”
“Then take it off and carve it on.”
“Eris.” Nix’s face darkened. “Get to work.”
“Forget it.” Eris whistled, happily clutching his new arm as he jumped down from the workbench. He checked himself in the mirror, then dashed out the door like a gust of wind.
Nix sat silently at his desk. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the leather-worn garment neatly folded into a square on the round table. He walked over, unfolded it, and examined the torn sleeve on the right arm, which had been roughly stitched together with cursed gold thread. He laid it flat on the workbench, threaded a needle, and began sewing the tear. The dollmaker was a Red-backed Spider Alpha; while he excelled at carving, he was also quite skilled at sewing.
Eris did not exit through the front door, but instead took the back door on the inner side of the workshop. The back door led to a narrow, elongated corridor and warehouse before opening onto the outside.
The walls of the corridor were lined with exquisitely crafted dolls, dressed in lavish ball gowns and tailcoats, with natural gemstones from various origins embedded in their garments and top hats.
Eris walked among them, occasionally raising his newly attached, perfect right hand to show it off to all the dolls, though their seemingly lifelike eyes remained fixed straight ahead.
“Pfft, how boring.” He aimed his gun at the brow of each doll, though he only pretended to shoot—he didn’t actually fire—and muttered “fuck” under his breath as he walked out.
By the time Eris reached a hot spring resort, it was completely dark. There was no moon tonight; only a few scattered points of light twinkled between the clouds.
“Queen’s Dream.” Eris pulled a handwritten card from his pocket and compared the resort’s name to the flowing cursive English on it. “Ah, this is the place. They sure know how to live it up.”
The spa’s exterior looked opulent; the decor alone suggested it wasn’t cheap, but Eris didn’t care. He fired a shot straight at the attendant blocking his path and demanding to see his reservation, and the attendant’s head exploded.
As he walked, bodies fell one after another, struck by gunfire, and blood trickled down the marble floor, spreading out before him.
“Oh dear… I forgot to ask which room it was.” Eris casually kicked open a door. Inside, a portly middle-aged Alpha sat in the pool, mouth agape, waiting for a pretty Omega attendant to feed him grapes.
The door burst open suddenly. The Alpha was startled, then impatiently picked up his phone to call the bodyguards outside. But when he caught sight of the shotgun in Eris’s hand, his grip stiffened momentarily before he slowly lowered the phone and raised both hands above his head.
The young Omega attendant cowered on the floor, clutching his head in fear.
Eris shouldered the gun and tilted his chin slightly as he asked, “Have you seen a Black Panther Alpha? About 189 centimeters tall, wearing black clothes, and sporting a sapphire ring.”
The middle-aged Alpha’s lips trembled as he replied, “On the second floor… I saw him go up there…”
“Thanks.” Eris shifted his gaze downward and glanced at the Alpha. “Huh, it’s not even as long as a shotgun shell. Is this the length it’s at when it’s in use?”
“You…” The Alpha dared not speak his anger.
Eris shouldered the gun and went upstairs.
The second floor was filled with relatively luxurious, large bathtubs, but only one was lit.
Warm light illuminated the golden patterns on the walls, and droplets of condensed water slowly trickled down the walls onto the floor.
Hot steam rose from the center of the spacious square bathtub, and an Alpha was leaning against the farthest edge.
The Alpha had his eyes closed, his muscular arms resting on the edge of the tub. Droplets of water trickled down his Adam’s apple, over his coffee-colored chest, and into the water. A sapphire ring on his right index finger sparkled brightly.
“Hey, little black cat, you’re having a nice soak. I ran all this way just to find you.”
The Alpha in the pool slowly opened his eyes, two thin vertical lines appearing in the center of his golden irises.
“I don’t want to get involved in this boring conflict anymore. Don’t come looking for me,” said the black panther Alpha.
Eris gritted her teeth as she ran her fingers along the barrel of her gun. She pulled a crumpled letter from her pocket and flicked it toward the black panther. “Nix told me to bring you this letter. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have bothered coming.”
The black panther alpha caught the crumpled letter, placed it on the edge of the pool, and closed his eyes again to rest.
“Suit yourself. Nix has me, and that’s enough.” Eris sneered at his haughty demeanor, then turned and walked away.
A moment after Eris left, Black Panther tilted his head back, resting it on the edge of the pool, and sighed softly. “You should come out too.”
From behind the screen near the carved window, Bai Chunian emerged with his hands in his pockets. He crouched down on the pool’s edge next to Black Panther and stirred the water with his hand. “Hmm? It’s a bit chilly.”
Black Panther half-opened his amber eyes. “Spit it out.”
“Hey, don’t be so formal.” Bai Chunian placed both hands on his shoulders. “Since you don’t want to go over to their side, come join us. You won’t have to do anything—just drink tea and sleep. As long as you don’t work against us, it’s all good. How about it? Pretty easy, right? I swear on my honor, I really mean it.”
“Your honor isn’t worth much.” ” Black Panther brushed his hands off his shoulders. “If your motives are the same as Eris’s, you’d better go back and pamper your wife.”
“No problem, no problem. My wife is right here.”
A blonde mermaid emerged from the water, leapt lightly onto the edge of the pool, and held up a sapphire ring to the light.
Only then did Black Panther realize his right index finger was empty.
Lanbo examined the ring and tried it on his finger: “They say a person’s ring finger is slightly thinner than their index finger. A ring that fits your index finger will fit even better on the ring finger of someone with a slightly thicker finger than yours.”
Black Panther clenched his teeth slightly, his fangs peeking out from behind his lips.
Bai Chunian crouched by the pool’s edge and chuckled, “Have you seen the newspaper? The head warden of the International Prison has been dismissed.”
Black Panther’s expression remained unchanged, though the veins on his arms bulged slightly.
The USB drive Bai Chunian had handed to the Chairman contained photos and footage of Samir’s final moments by the incubation chamber.
At the time, the Enxi Hospital viral zombie outbreak had caused a huge stir, drawing attention from numerous media outlets. Ultimately, Samir was killed, and his body was placed in the custody of the International Prison. This news was widely publicized as a measure to reassure the public.
Now, the test subject—which should have been housed in the autopsy room of the International Prison’s custodial building—had reappeared in the outside world, causing a massive sensation. As a result, a thorough investigation of the International Prison was ordered.
This thorough investigation happened to uncover the case of the pastry chef who had severely damaged the prison building. While the warden had publicly insisted that the pastry chef had caused the damage without provocation, the investigation revealed the truth behind the incident through subtle clues and information that could no longer be concealed.
The warden consequently resigned in disgrace. Once this earth-shattering scandal broke, the clarifications offered by Research Institute 109 at a press conference just days earlier became increasingly difficult to believe, and anti-109 organizations have even begun to emerge among the public.
In the eyes of some ordinary citizens and public interest volunteers, since they had never seen a real test subject, they subconsciously viewed them as clones—created without choice, devoid of human rights, pitiful, weak, and helpless. Consequently, they felt compassion for the test subjects themselves and harbored strong resistance toward Institute 109.
“The warden has gone missing since his resignation; no one knows where he is now. “But I saw him get into a car, leaning on a black umbrella.” Bai Chunian smiled and handed him a card. “If you’re interested, call this number.”
“I’m not interested. He’d be better off dead.” Black Panther rose from the water, took the ring back from Lanbo, stepped onto the pool’s edge, wrapped a towel around his lower body, and walked out slowly.
On the spine of his broad, muscular back was a pattern of a scorpion’s tail, with each vertebra aligning perfectly with a segment of the scorpion’s tail. As he walked into the darkness, the black pattern began to emit a faint green glow.