The next morning, Ci’an woke early.

The goldfish in the tank were gone.

Aunt Yu was reprimanding the maid who had been on night duty. When Ci’an approached, she stepped forward and said, “Miss Ci’an, I’m very sorry that the goldfish disappeared. It was my negligence. The servants will buy new ones soon.”

Ci’an did not even look at her.

“No need.”

She walked past without looking back, leaving only one sentence behind:

“I hate fish.”

The empty fish tank, the housekeeper who never smiled, the maids with their various expressions—all of them were left behind. Compared with the child who had once been little more than a wooden doll, she seemed to have been reborn.

No one knew the price of that rebirth.

Except the Mother who had fallen asleep beside her.

Her gentle Mother, her beautiful Mother, her compassionate Mother—because of the female ghost’s arrival, Mother no longer belonged to her.

Except last night.

Last night, Mother had belonged to her.

The female ghost who had once claimed Mother for herself had been punished.

The weekly art lesson was canceled because Jiayan had failed to show up.

“Could it be that Teacher Jiayan is really angry and won’t come to teach anymore?” Kai Xin asked.

Ci’an didn’t know.

Whenever she closed her eyes, she began to dream. When she woke, it felt as though an entire lifetime had passed, yet Kai Xin was still just as young.

She wanted to remember Kai Xin’s eyebrows, eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. The more deeply she tried to imprint them in her memory, the more unfamiliar Kai Xin became.

She had never seen such a strange and unfamiliar Kai Xin before.

She had never dreamed such a long dream.

Kai Xin said she wanted to paint a butterfly.

Ci’an looked at her.

“A butterfly was once a worm. It can only emerge from its cocoon after dying.”

“What if it can’t break out?” Kai Xin asked.

“Then it dies,” Ci’an answered.

“Does it have to die?”

“It has to.”

“Why?”

“Because that is the original sin.”

“Who’s the original sin? The butterfly?”

“The chrysalis is the original sin.”

“And the worm?”

“The worm is a walking organ.”

“Then what about the butterfly?”

“The butterfly must die.”

Someone patted Ci’an on the shoulder.

She turned around and saw Kai Xin’s familiar yet unfamiliar face.

“What have you been muttering about all this time?” Kai Xin asked unhappily. “What’s all this talk about dying? Who are you talking to?”

Ci’an froze for a moment and turned her head.

Another Kai Xin was still asking, “Then what about the worm?”

The Kai Xin behind her pressed on, “Who exactly are you talking to?”

Which one was Kai Xin?

Which side was telling the truth?

Which end was reality?

Ci’an’s mind raced frantically as she desperately tried to distinguish reality from the dream.

Kai Xin’s face grew increasingly blurred, until it finally dissolved into nothingness.

Ci’an hurriedly turned toward the other Kai Xins, only to watch her face split apart and her body disintegrate into countless blocks.

Strings of garbled symbols appeared before Ci’an’s eyes—deep red, black and white, chaotic and nonsensical.

Laughter melted away.

The ground bubbled into foam.

Viscous bodily fluids bloomed into flesh.

Walls of bronze and iron rose from beneath her feet, one after another, blocking her path.

Whose hell was this?

Ci’an closed her eyes and opened them again.

She was still in hell.

“Ci’an, where are you looking? I’m right here.”

Kai Xin’s voice continued to echo from within that pool of melted tissue.

Ci’an looked over.

A butterfly gracefully took flight and fluttered toward her.

A white butterfly.

Bathed in sunlight, its wings were brilliant. Thin as a cicada’s wings, they were light, gorgeous, and strikingly vivid.

Like it had just finished feasting on human flesh.

“Ci’an, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you saying anything?” Kai Xin’s voice came from the butterfly.

“All right, all right. I won’t ask who you were talking to anymore. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. But there’s one thing—you still have to play with me even if you make new friends. You can’t abandon me, okay? Because we’re best friends.”

A fragile butterfly.

A butterfly emerging from its cocoon.

A butterfly born from the souls of the dead.

Kai Xin had become a butterfly.

The butterfly flew and circled around Ci’an, so vivid and radiant that Ci’an’s eyes followed it intently, afraid that it would disappear the moment she blinked.

The butterfly rested on her shoulder for a while before taking flight again.

“Ci’an, I think Aunt Yu is about to come and call us for dinner.”

A woman in a long dress emerged from behind the walls of bronze and iron.

Her hair was meticulously pinned up. Her face was smooth and featureless. There were no eyebrows, no eyes, no nose, no mouth, and no ears.

Her faceless features shifted slightly, the movement pulling at the place where her lips should have been.

“Miss Ci’an, it’s time for dinner. Kai Xin, you come too. I’ve already told your father.”

There was no tongue or teeth visible when she spoke. Only pale flesh, moving as though it were alive.

“Yay! Aunt Yu is the best!”

The butterfly soared into the air and dropped back down, as though Kai Xin were happily jumping for joy.

The butterfly followed the faceless woman toward the mysterious, unknown new world.

Ci’an took one step forward.

The walls of bronze and iron instantly crumbled into dust.

As the falling dust reached the ground, it gave birth to white blades, covering every path that led toward the new world.

Dense and tightly packed, they looked like the serrated teeth of some enormous beast.

“Ci’an, why are you still standing there? Hurry up! We still have something to do after dinner.”

The butterfly stopped and urged her on.

What did they have to do?

Strange. Why couldn’t she remember?

Ci’an gave up thinking and stepped forward.

Behind her, two rows of vivid red footprints, drenched in blood, stretched across the ground. Blood seeped into the grass, while only the scent of flowers slowly filled the air.

The home they depended upon for survival had become a beast’s lair.

Nothing had changed.

Everything had changed.

Spiderwebs clung to the polished door handles.

The brand-new hall had become dilapidated.

An old, stale smell lingered everywhere.

The stench of decay drifted out from the depths of the lair.

The magnificent, luxurious villa had been transformed into a haunted house filled with sinister energy, as though it were a living creature feeding on the vitality of anyone who entered.

Even the light surrounding the butterfly had grown dim.

Every corner of this house was filthy and ruined.

Only the dining table before them remained spotless, immaculate, orderly, and white.

The maids in black-and-white uniforms began serving the dishes.

Their heads had been replaced by enormous eyes and ears.

The eye-maid opened her huge eyes wide, slick and gleaming as she monitored everyone at the table.

The ear-maid held her enormous ears upright, as though she desperately wanted to press herself against people and eavesdrop on everything they said.

Ci’an met the gaze of the enormous eye.

Yet it was the eye that seemed frightened.

Its bloodshot pupil darted about nervously and fearfully, as though it had been caught red-handed.

Ci’an pushed away the enormous ear that was almost pressed against her body.

The ear froze for a moment.

Blood began dripping from its ear canal, like a tear hanging from its uneven, grotesque face.

Horrifying.

Blindingly vivid.

Two thick, bluish veins emerged from the grass beneath the blades and dragged away the two maids who had made mistakes without mercy.

In the blink of an eye, new eye and ear maids filled their places.

Holding hands, they formed a circle around the dining table.

Ci’an and the butterfly were inside the circle.

The faceless woman stood outside it.

“Ci’an, why aren’t you eating? It’s delicious.”

The butterfly was completely oblivious to the nightmare made flesh.

Its eyes held nothing but longing for delicious food.

She can’t see it, Ci’an thought.

That’s good.

She picked up the knife and fork and lifted the lid from her plate.

In the center of the exquisitely crafted porcelain dish lay a blood-soaked organ.

A single, still-beating heart.