Xingtie: My silly online friend is actually a raccoon!

[Observation Log - Day 209]

Subject: Father (male, 38 years old, former occupation: doctor)

Date: April 30th. Note: Today is my birthday.

The subject's symptoms have changed significantly today.

First, the target of aggressive behavior has shifted.

Over the previous 168 days, 91.3% of the violence directed at the individual was directed at the individual, primarily targeting the face, upper arms, and back, averaging 3.7 times per week.

But since Tuesday, that number has dropped to 0.

Secondly, destructive behavior has increased significantly.

Instead of attacking the human body, the target systematically destroys everything destructible in the room.

Since 9:14 a.m. today, the following items have been damaged: 4 porcelain bowls, 2 wooden chairs, several glass cups, 1 grandfather clock, and 1 television set (the screen is cracked radially from the lower left corner).

The acts of vandalism were not clearly purposeful.

The object is not looking for anything, nor is it anxious because it cannot find anything.

It simply sees and then wants to destroy.

Third, language function has further deteriorated.

There were 11 identifiable syllables today, of which 9 were meaningless growls.

The remaining two are "medicine" and "roll".

Fourth, and most importantly, this is the one that deserves to be recorded.

The object's pupils have lost their ability to reflect light.

At noon today, I stood in front of it and shone a flashlight directly into its right eye for three seconds.

The pupils did not constrict at all.

Conclusion: It is becoming less and less like a human.

……

Mebius stopped writing.

The pen tip paused on the paper, and she stared at the ink dot for two seconds, thinking it looked like an eye.

An eye that doesn't shrink.

So she turned the page.

Then she noticed that the sounds outside had stopped.

It was unusually quiet.

Mebius sat on the stool with his legs dangling in mid-air.

She didn't move or make a sound, but simply turned her head slightly towards the door.

three minutes.

When she counted down from one to one hundred and eighty seconds, Mebius jumped off the stool.

Two bare little feet pattered on the floor.

Mebius came to the door.

I stood on tiptoe and pressed my ear against the door.

I still can't hear anything.

There were no footsteps, no breathing, and no more low growls from the monster outside.

wrong.

That's very wrong.

It's never this quiet.

Even when it's asleep, its breathing has a sticky, rattling sound.

And now, even that's gone.

Mebius swallowed hard.

suddenly!

—Tap, tap, tap.

A knock came at the door.

Mebius took a half step back.

The muffled thuds pierced through the thin door panel, traveling from her ears all the way to the depths of her skull, like someone striking her brain with a mallet.

Möbius shook his head, as if trying to shake off the buzzing in his head.

Her actions, combined with her figure, give off a very cute vibe.

Then Mebius realized.

There are other people outside.

Because that thing hasn't knocked on the door for a very, very long time.

It has long since lost this ability to behave.

All it does is ram and kick the door, slamming its entire body weight against it.

It has almost forgotten that the "door" needs to be opened.

So what's standing outside right now is definitely not it.

Mebius whirled around and scanned the small room.

There aren't many things that can be used as weapons.

She scanned the entire space in just two seconds before finally opening the desk drawer.

There was a utility knife lying inside.

The plastic casing had the blade protruding about four centimeters, and the tip of the blade was already dull, a remnant from when she used it to cut cardboard last time.

She took it out.

He held the knife with both hands, horizontally in front of him, with the tip pointing outwards.

She figured out this pose herself.

She had not learned any fighting techniques and did not know how much damage a nine-year-old girl's arm strength could cause at that distance.

She only did one simple calculation: a four-centimeter blade wouldn't reach the heart or the carotid artery; at most, it would leave a shallow cut on the opponent's forearm.

It is not meaningful.

But she still held it up.

The knocking on the door stopped.

—Click.

The doorknob turned.

Möbius's fingers tightened.

The door was pushed open from the outside.

As soon as Lu Ze entered, he saw a little girl holding a knife and pointing it at him, as if she was ready to fight him to the death at any moment.

Luze discreetly observed Mebius.

He had green hair, was very thin, barefoot, and wore an old coat that was obviously too big, with the cuffs rolled up twice to barely reveal his fingers.

as well as--

She held a utility knife in both hands, the tip of which was pointed directly at his abdomen.

The little girl was as tense as a string stretched to its limit, ready to pounce on him at any moment.

Luze's first reaction was to raise his hands.