Puzzle Madness

Chapter 181 Autumn is the Hunting Season (Seventeen)
The boy with the eyeglasses closed his eyes tightly and showed no sign of responding; blood seeped from his ankles through his socks, pooling into a small puddle at the tear.

The stun gun had already flown out of her hand, and Ai Xi kicked it away, sending it crashing into the wall.

For a moment, silence filled the storage room. Ai Xi tilted her head and listened intently:

Clang, clang, clang.
Judging from the volume and direction of the sound, the monster had already crossed the exhibition hall and was now stopped outside the aisle.

For some reason, it didn't seem to have any intention of breaking into the cell: only a low growl rolling from its throat, a threatening murmur that sent chills down the spine of the listener.

Ai Xi turned her gaze back, slowly and methodically putting her school uniform back on and zipping it up, while continuing to press down on the still blind boy with her knee:
"Don't know about Madness? Then—just think of it as a superpower."

Are superpowers limited by human imagination? Is it only things that humans can imagine that can appear in reality?

"Or perhaps this superpower wasn't really that extraordinary and just originated from humanity itself. Humans really can't imagine the unknown."

"Anyway—I haven't seen anything truly special yet."

She received no answer, but Ai Xi didn't seem to care and continued talking to herself. She pointed to the door:
"It can't teleport in yet, right?"

"Perhaps it's not instantaneous teleportation; that definition is too vague. It could be some other way of moving quickly without making a sound and without being limited by terrain or physical barriers; the difference isn't significant."

"However, it takes a certain amount of time to recover after each use—the length of time should be related to your emotional state."

"The exact range of fluctuation is unclear, but what is certain is that you used it to kill Huang Youtian just now, otherwise it should have come in to save you by now."

"I initially thought it was a person. A person with a high degree of madness, a person who was completely in a state of chaos; you were just cooperating with it."

"But its shirt—it fits so well, it's so clean. For someone of that size, the clothes must have been custom-made, and there wouldn't be many in stock. But it moved and chased people in such a dirty air-raid shelter, killed two people, and it was still spotless, without a speck of dirt on it."

As she spoke, Ai Xi shook her school uniform: the blue and white tracksuit jacket was covered in dust and black scratches; although there was no blood, it had become filthy.

"How is that possible? Did they change clothes in between? But with that kind of upper limb deformity, changing clothes shouldn't be that easy. Not to mention that kitchen knife—how could these things be maintained and cared for without any trace of wear and tear? How could one person handle such a workload?"

"Unless...that's not a physical entity. Something that can interact with the real world, but doesn't truly exist in the real sense."

"I've seen this kind of thing before."

"The sour soup bak kut teh is right. Although it's a crazy, rambling statement, it turns out there really is an inside man. And you—you probably don't have a way to communicate with it in real time, at least I haven't observed it, yet it always appears at the right time."

"So that thing outside the door is actually a product of your delusion."

"The monster you've imagined, the monster you've materialized—it's your executioner, your butcher's knife; it's your obsession. It's responsible for killing, and you lure the prey and dispose of the corpses; it's just not quite finished yet, what do you think of what I'm saying?"

Ai Xi raised one hand and gestured to the deformed skeleton she had seen in the "exhibition hall":
"Using skeletal models to shape one's own delusions is a feasible method, if you think about it carefully; you have a good idea."

"Of course, it's also possible that you want to create that kind of [work], so the monsters you imagine are also leaning towards that kind of design?"

The boy with the eyeglasses didn't answer, but he opened his eyes. His eyes were wide open, staring blankly at Ai Xi without blinking—at the same time, the monster-like panting outside also slowed down.

"Anyway, this is interesting: you said your father died of cirrhosis, and it seems you're telling the truth. The giant outside has a protruding round belly, which is a symptom of ascites. Is this a projection of your childhood memories?"

"No matter how much you fantasize or design, fragments of reality will inevitably get mixed in. This is indeed unavoidable."

Eyeglass Boy seemed to still be immersed in the pain of his severed Achilles tendon, or perhaps his vision had not yet recovered; he looked away and stared blankly at the ceiling.

A creaking sound came from outside the door: the monster seemed to be trying to curl up and squeeze itself into the passageway; even with the solid iron door blocking the way, the stench still seeped into the room.

Ai Xi, on the other hand, spoke fluently and clearly, every word and sentence distinct:

“I admit one thing: Mutant Type 3 is a good movie. No wonder you went to mingle with the victims: it must have been fun watching their reactions up close, right?” “You looked like you were covering your face and crying, but you were actually laughing so hard that tears were streaming down your face and you were shaking all over; I could tell you were absolutely laughing, you really couldn’t hold it in.”

The man with the eyepiece suddenly spoke, it was hard to tell if it was a weak and feeble explanation or a serious inquiry—but it was very cliché:
"Wait, then why me? According to you—it could be anyone, it could fit: it's a monster created from imagination. It could be Big Head Hong, or Huang Youtian, or even Sour Soup Bak Kut Teh."

"Are you accusing me, or are you trying to convince yourself that you won't kill the wrong person? -- Uh!"

Ai Xi adjusted the position of her knees to prevent the boy with the goggles from suffocating, but also to prevent him from breathing too smoothly:
"What nonsense are you spouting? You're the only one left dead, and I know it wasn't me—the monsters outside haven't disappeared, so you're the killer."

"This is the simplest way to judge. It's also the most reasonable for me; nothing else is reliable."

“If we were making a movie, we would definitely flash back a lot of scenes to reveal the doubts you expressed. But real life is not a movie.”

"Of course, most importantly: you are the only local from Mong Cai. But the fact that you admitted it makes me less certain."

She sighed again, shook her head slightly, and shifted her gaze to the concrete wall:

"Perhaps others don't have to die. But I don't want to take the risk—everyone has suspicious aspects, and I can't be 100% sure that only death can prove innocence."

The boy with the eyeglasses gradually regained his focus. His eyes held both fearful evasion and a strange excitement; a wide grin spread across his face, and beads of sweat covered his forehead.

"What if—what if you're wrong?"

"Even if we take a step back and assume... even if it's me, even if what you're saying is right: are you gambling? Can you be sure that it will disappear after I die?"

"What if after I die it doesn't dissipate, but instead becomes stronger and more violent?"

"This will only result in a lose-lose situation—you'll only drag me down with you. Why don't you let me go first and we can talk? There's no need to make a scene like this."

Complex and inexplicable emotions are fleeting.

Ai Xi's words were devoid of emotion, as if they had never existed at all:

“You’re right, I can’t beat it; I’m not that good at fighting. That’s why I’ve dragged this out until now, until there’s only one left, and I can really determine who has the Madness.”

"If I'm wrong, then we'll deal with it when the time comes. In such a small space, its large size might not allow it to maneuver that much, and I might be able to escape."

She paused, her voice becoming very soft:
"If it kills me—that means I can only go this far, I'll always just be a burden. I might as well die: the damage will be less."

Ai Xi adjusted her knees, squeezing the boy's trachea until his face swelled up like a pig's liver, turned bruised and purple, and he couldn't speak.
"A knife wound to the carotid artery is more effective at stopping blood flow than to the heart—because the carotid artery supplies blood to the brain and is also easier to locate than the heart."

"However, I'd like to test my heart. You don't mind, do you?"

Ai Xi pressed down on the protruding ribs of the man with the eyepiece and aimed the utility knife at the desired spot:

"Look, just poke it in—"

"You will fall into a coma within ten seconds: and the things outside the door will disappear."

[Good boy, good boy]——
The monster outside the door suddenly let out a high-pitched, strange groan, like a meaningful phrase; the iron door shook violently, and the dim black mist slid into the room through the crack and then disappeared without a trace.

But Ai Xi didn't even glance behind her:
"If I said I was going to kill you, were you going to say something like, 'I don't believe you have the guts'? ​​I don't think so, you're not that stupid."

"So, if you cooperate—"

She raised her hand and pointed to the human skin on the wall that had not yet undergone the drying and tanning process:
“I won’t burn your collection. Do you understand? I know, I know: the artwork might be more important than your life—that’s all the explanation I’ll give.”

(End of this chapter)