Illusion Report

Chapter 194: Chapter 160: Mai Mingle: None of These Should Be Added Memories, Right?

"Your TV show only lasted twenty-four minutes?"

Hai Luwei’s voice shot up, nearly piercing the ceiling. "What gives? Why only twenty-four minutes?"

Fu Tailan shrugged. "It’s a sitcom. Episodes are only about twenty minutes long. That’s pretty normal, isn’t it?"

"Do you think I care how long a sitcom episode is? It’s the blatant unfairness and favoritism—"

Hai Luwei glanced at Mai Mingle. He tried to hold his tongue, but couldn’t help saying, "Your TV show experience was a walk in the park, too."

Mai Mingle gave him an apologetic smile, tinged with a bit of survivor’s guilt.

It was as if Hai Luwei had taken on all the suffering that she and Fu Tailan had been spared. He’d been thrown into a sci-fi mystery thriller for a solid sixty-five minutes. According to him, he spent the entire time struggling to survive, forced into one dead end after another.

"Even if you don’t smash your head on a TV, there are traps everywhere!"

Hai Luwei said bitterly, "Stay away from the main character, and you’re liable to get killed off by some bit of foreshadowing or a side plot. Get too close, and you’re guaranteed to have bad luck. And another thing—I found a place that seemed safe and quiet, but it turned out to be the most dangerous trap of all. The moment I fell for it, my mind grew hazy... For a while, I even forgot who I was, forgot that I didn’t actually belong in that world."

’So in other words, if you just focus on staying safe, you’ll gradually be ’swallowed’ by the world of the show?’

Even though he had just escaped a life-or-death ordeal, they couldn’t linger on the second floor; who knew when the traps would be "refreshed." Mai Mingle offered a few kind words of comfort and encouragement, but Fu Tailan was unfazed, cutting straight to the point. "Are you done crying? Let’s go. Time to head downstairs."

"But we still don’t know what the first floor has become," Mai Mingle said.

"We’ll never know if we don’t go down and look." Fu Tailan started to head down, then paused. "But I have a feeling it probably hasn’t changed."

"You mean it’s still just planting memories in our heads?" Hai Luwei asked. "But the second floor changed..."

"The biggest difference between the first floor and the second and third floors is that the upper floors are ’levels.’ After we clear them, there’s a brief calm period that lets us leave before the level’s content refreshes. But the first floor is different.

"The first floor has never been a ’level.’"

It clicked for Mai Mingle—since the first floor never had a "start" or "finish," it might not refresh at all, like a cassette tape on an endless loop.

"That cassette tape analogy is a little dated, don’t you think? I’ve never even seen one."

When she voiced her thought, Fu Tailan laughed. "But speaking of tapes, that reminds me. We should make a recording."

"What’s the recording for?" Hai Luwei asked.

"If the first floor keeps implanting false memories in our heads, we need to be able to hold on to the most crucial facts." Fu Tailan pulled out his phone. "For example, the fact that there’s no life-or-death grudge between us anymore. We don’t need to kill each other. How about this: I start a recording, state a key fact, and you each say you agree. That way, if we need a reminder later, we can just play it back and won’t be fooled by fake memories."

"You’re so thorough," Mai Mingle remarked with admiration.

The three of them put their heads together and listed all the key facts they could think of: they didn’t need to kill each other, the time the apartment building would reopen, the fact that the sixth floor wasn’t safe, and that they hadn’t found any Illusions in the building yet... and so on.

After seven or eight minutes on the second floor, they started to feel unsafe. They headed for the stairs, continuing the recording as they went. Hai Luwei kept glancing back at the hallway, and out of worry, he even tentatively called out, "Hey, uh, Mr. Chute, you don’t need to rush over. We’re going downstairs right now, okay?"

A few seconds later, a voice that sounded as foul as you’d expect a garbage chute to smell echoed from deep down the hallway.

"...No rush, no rush. You all go about your business. Treat the staircase like your own home. Make yourselves at home, make yourselves at home."

"Add this to the recording," Hai Luwei said quickly into Fu Tailan’s phone. "Linger on the stairs, and you’ll attract the garbage chute."

They glanced at each other, feeling there was nothing left to record. Just as Fu Tailan was about to turn and head down, Mai Mingle suddenly put a hand on his shoulder.

"We should add one last thing. I just remembered," she said. "This recording was made of our own free will to ensure our memories remain accurate. It is completely trustworthy. At the time of recording, we are in no immediate danger, and there is nothing present that can mimic our voices."

Even Fu Tailan offered a compliment. "That’s a good addition. Alright, let’s get downstairs, quick."

The first floor was still the same as when they first entered: quiet and dim.

The three of them stopped in the open area of the first-floor lobby. They were all on high alert, scanning their surroundings over and over. But several minutes passed, and still, nothing happened.

"It didn’t refresh," Mai Mingle said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Looks like you were right. Since the first floor isn’t a ’level,’ the trap hasn’t changed."

Fu Tailan started to nod, but then his brow furrowed. "Hm?"

"What’s wrong?" Hai Luwei asked, already jumping at shadows. He seemed to have realized he wasn’t someone the Nest would ever favor.

"Hm, no, it’s nothing..." Fu Tailan glanced around. "I remember... Before we went upstairs, I put a burner phone on the floor. I turned on the ringer and left it playing before heading up. But... the phone’s gone now."

As his words faded, the first-floor lobby fell silent for several seconds.