Ye Ning’s movements froze abruptly, the white porcelain cup in her hand nearly slipping from her grasp.
The warm yellow emergency light slanted across Hua Niao’s face.
The girl still looked peculiar, with her long, ash-to-purple ombre hair cascading over her shoulders.
The purple ends shimmered with a cold, faint luster in the dim light, making the aura around her feel even more distant and detached.
“Classmate Hua Niao, what… what do you mean?”
Ye Ning blinked, a powerful sense of unease inexplicably rising in her heart.
It coiled around her heart like a rampant vine, making her breath catch.
“My sister… she’s right here, isn’t she?”
She instinctively turned to look beside her.
Her sister, who had been standing there just moments ago, was now leaning quietly against the side of the sofa, her cool, elegant features carrying a gentle smile, as if waiting for Ye Ning to finish making the tea.
Ye Ning’s heart settled slightly. She added, “And Uncle Wang and Sister Li on the way here… How can you say it’s only the two of us?”
Hua Niao watched her bewildered expression and slowly took two steps forward.
Her footsteps fell on the cold floor with a dull, heavy sound, like steps directly on a person’s heart, exuding an overwhelming sense of pressure.
“Classmate Ye Ning, this joke isn’t very funny.”
Her voice was soft, yet carried a chill that seemed to pierce straight to the soul.
“In fact, ever since we turned into the first alleyway, you haven’t been quite right—you’ve been talking to yourself the whole time.”
“Talking… to myself?”
Ye Ning was stunned, the color draining from her face. “Impossible! I was clearly talking to all the neighbors…”
Hua Niao gave a helpless smile.
That smile held a touch of pity and a cold, knowing understanding, as if she were looking at someone drowning in a self-woven dream, unwilling to wake up.
“Classmate Ye Ning, do you really think the old district alley we walked into is the one you’ve lived in for over ten years?”
As she spoke, she reached out, her fingertips gently tracing the wall beside her.
The wall looked mottled and worn, with sporadic morning glory vines crawling over it.
Its texture felt real enough to touch.
Yet, the moment her fingertip made contact, the wall surface shimmered with an extremely faint, fleeting glimmer of light.
It was like a trick of the light, or the boundary between illusion and reality wavering.
“After turning the last corner, the place you led me into might indeed be the home from your memory. These bricks, the furnishings, even the cracks in the corner of the wall, are exactly as you remember them.”
Hua Niao’s voice struck Ye Ning’s mind like a thunderclap, exploding with a force that made her eardrums ring.
“But this place has never been completely real. The ‘Uncle Wang,’ ‘Sister Li,’ and all those neighbors you greeted on the way were all figments of your imagination. From beginning to end, those spots were completely empty.”
“And the home you speak of,” Hua Niao raised her hand, her fingertip tracing through the air as if outlining the contours of this space.
Her tone held no mockery, only a cold statement.
“It is indeed your house, but it exists only in your delusion. You used your obsession and memories to transform the illusory into a tangible reality. This Illusionary Space has one rule—only those its owner, that is, you, subconsciously allow can enter.”
Clatter—
The white porcelain teacup in Ye Ning’s hand finally slipped from her grasp, crashing heavily onto the floor and shattering into countless pieces.
Scalding tea splashed onto her ankle, yet she felt no pain at all.
Instead, a bone-chilling cold shot from the soles of her feet to the top of her head.
It seemed something in her mind shattered along with the cup, emitting a crisp crack sound.
The pillar supporting her entire world crumbled in that instant.
Her face turned as pale as paper. Her lips trembled, her body shaking uncontrollably.
She bit her lip so hard it turned white, tasting a faint trace of blood.
She opened her mouth, wanting to refute, but no sound came out. Only a faint, choked sob escaped her throat.
A long time passed before she found her voice again.
It was dry, hoarse, thick with fear and confusion.
“Classmate Hua Niao, what are you saying… I… I don’t understand… This isn’t real…”
She seemed to grab onto a final lifeline, whipping her head around to look at the spot where her sister should have been standing.
Her voice was choked with tears and pleading.
“Sister! Sister, tell her quickly! What she’s saying is all lies! Our home is real, the neighbors are real…”
Ye Ning’s words cut off abruptly, as if someone had viciously grabbed her throat.
Her breathing stopped instantly.
Beside her, there was nothing.
The sister who had been smiling gently just moments ago, the cool, aloof sister who doted on her endlessly, had vanished as if evaporated from the earth, leaving not a single trace behind.
Everything from just now—those gentle gazes, those intimate gestures—had all been her hallucinations.
“No… That’s not right…”
Ye Ning staggered back a step, her back slamming hard against the cold metal wall with a dull thud that sent a numbing shock through her whole body.
Her eyes were wide open, tears welling up uncontrollably, blurring her vision.
Her voice, thick with sobs, broke into a desperate scream.
“Sister! Where are you?! Come out! Please don’t scare me like this! Sister!”
She reached out, grasping wildly at the empty air.
Her fingertips brushed only a biting cold, not a trace of lingering warmth.
Hua Niao watched her collapse in silence, not a ripple of emotion in her eyes, as if watching a play whose ending she had long foreseen.
She walked slowly towards the old-looking wooden cabinet in the corner of the room.
The cabinet door’s handle had lost its paint, revealing the dull copper color beneath.
This was the most authentic detail in Ye Ning’s memory, and the hardest mark to alter within the Illusionary Space.
She reached out and gently pulled open the cabinet door.
Inside, there were no clothes, no clutter, none of the signs of daily life.
There was only a single, carefully preserved photograph.
The photo was slightly yellowed, but its corners were pressed flat, clearly having been touched and stroked repeatedly.
In the photo, seven girls stood shoulder to shoulder, their smiles so bright they were dazzling, as if they could dispel all gloom.
The background was a smoke-filled battlefield, with broken walls and ruins still emitting wisps of smoke.
One could almost smell the blood and gunpowder in the air.
Yet, their faces were filled with fearlessness and resolve, faint magical auras shimmering around them.
Hua Niao picked up the photo, her fingertips gently brushing over the figures, her movements tender as if caressing a treasure.
She lifted her gaze to Ye Ning, her voice terrifyingly calm, as if stating a fact that had nothing to do with her.
“The Morning Star Squad, a team composed of seven S-rank Magical Girls. You’re not unfamiliar with it, are you?”
Ye Ning’s eyes were vacant, unfocused.
She didn’t answer.
“Although the identities of S-rank Magical Girls must be strictly concealed, and information about the members of the Morning Star Squad has always been top secret to the outside world, I know their true identities for certain reasons.”
She pointed to a girl in the photo with a high ponytail and sharp, defined features.
“Chiba Haruna, the Magical Girl Sword Saint.”
Then she pointed to a girl in a white dress, gentle and serene.
“Hoshino Erii, the Magical Girl White Rose.”
“Xu Zhiyuan, the Magical Girl Blood Butterfly; Viola, the Magical Girl Magician; Shen Lingyin, the Magical Girl Hollow Wood.”
Hua Niao’s fingertip moved across the figures in the photo one by one, her tone flat.
“And her—”
Her fingertip paused on a girl wearing deep purple combat attire.
The girl had cool, elegant features, long purplish-black hair draped over her shoulders, a faint purple aura shimmering around her.
“Liu Tinghua, your sister, the Magical Girl Equinox Flower.”
“Equinox Flower…”
Ye Ning murmured.
Hua Niao’s gaze finally settled on the girl at the far right of the photo.
It was a girl wearing a combat uniform of cherry pink and pure white, with a head of fluffy cherry-pink-and-white hair cascading over her shoulders, the ends slightly curled as if touched by morning dew.
Her features were delicate and obedient like a doll’s, her smile pure and clear.
A faint pink aura shimmered around her, like a gentle ray of sunset light falling onto the battlefield.
The pattern on her combat uniform was a spreading lark’s wings.
Hua Niao’s voice, word by word, rang clearly in Ye Ning’s ears, like the tolling of a judgment bell, shattering her last line of defense.
“And finally, the Magical Girl named Lark.”
She looked up, meeting Ye Ning’s hollow, despairing eyes.
The ice in her own eyes finally cracked, revealing the complex emotions hidden deep within—pity, inquiry, and a trace of barely perceptible heartache.
“That is you, Ye Ning.”