The iris toxin splashed onto the alloy floor, sizzling with a corrosive sound, mere inches from Lila's ankles. In a hair-raising moment, the searing light projected from her back—a thorny birthmark—seemed to resonate with the fresh, bleeding "LW" stamp on the vault door. Accompanied by the deep rumble of gears, the heavy door made of diamond and some unknown alloy slid inward, just in time to pull her into an icy, pitch-black darkness before she was swallowed by the toxic liquid.
The door slammed shut behind her, cutting off the mechanical female voice announcing her doom and the corroding sounds of the toxins. This place... her "birthplace." There were no petri dishes or medical equipment as expected, only bone-chilling cold and a peculiar dry smell that mixed aged red wine with diamond dust. The space was claustrophobic, its smooth, icy walls feeling like polished diamonds yet bearing a certain organic stickiness.
She turned on her phone using its last bit of power, weak light illuminating this prison. The walls were covered with fine scratches, seemingly carved by nails or perhaps the sharp tip of a diamond—the chaotic lines, recurring "0927," and... intermittent musical notes of "Air on the G String!" In the corner lay some carbonized tubes, barely recognizable as remnants of IV lines connected to a dried-up umbilical-like socket on the wall. Most heart-wrenching was the human-shaped depression in the center of the floor, perfectly sized for a curled embryo.
Was this her original "home"? A diamond-encased, cold prison filled with despair, nourished by 1997 vintage red wine. Ethan's message was right; this was indeed the gateway to life but also the origin of all her nightmares. The phone screen flickered and went dark. Absolute darkness and silence enveloped her, leaving only her heartbeat and the increasingly intense pulsation from the "fusion entity" inside her abdomen. Each pulse brought clearer outlines of tiny ring shapes under her skin, forming a ghastly constellation in the dark.
She had to get out! Feeling around the icy walls, she searched for the "gateway" mentioned by Ethan. The rough texture of the scratches guided her fingers, the notes of "Air on the G String" appearing deeper than others. She pressed these notes in sequence, following the melody. When she reached the final high note, a faint mechanical sound came from above, followed by a dim beam of light shining down.
An upward passage, just wide enough for one person, opened up. Upward? Looking up, the passage seemed bottomless, with only vague glimpses of shimmering water reflecting what appeared to be the rooftop pool. Clenching her teeth, enduring the pain in her ribs and abdomen, she grabbed the rough protrusions on the inner wall and began climbing.
The passage was slippery and cold, mingling rust, oil, and... an odd burnt feather scent. Every few meters, small peepholes could be seen along the sides, revealing other secret spaces hidden within the gallery structure—abandoned laboratories, control rooms filled with surveillance screens, even... glass cages holding other experimental subjects? Some cages showed signs of movement, shadowy figures writhing behind the glass, emitting incomprehensible growls. Harlowe's sins extended far beyond what she knew.
As she climbed higher, the air grew more humid, laden with chlorine and... a high-end perfume, Scarlett's favorite, "Blood Iris." The melody of "Air on the G String" became clearer, but not purely classical anymore—it was interwoven with electrical noise and a seductive, almost Siren-like allure.
Finally, pushing open the heavy metal grille overhead, she crawled out. The crisp night air, tinged with post-rain freshness, filled her lungs, causing dizziness. This was the rooftop of Harlowe Gallery. Manhattan's dazzling lights stretched beneath her feet, painting a luxurious yet indifferent picture. But the scene before her cast a sinister blood-red hue over this opulence.
A massive infinity pool dominated most of the rooftop, its waters not their usual clear blue but thick, blood-like crimson. Floating atop were countless decaying black irises, surrounding a bizarre sculpture at the pool's center—a platinum and bone angel crowned with thorns, offering a beating sapphire heart toward the sky. Countless small spotlights beneath the pool shone upwards, red light piercing through the "blood," casting the entire rooftop in an infernal glow.
The seductive strains of "Air on the G String" emanated from hidden speakers below the pool, the frequency making the fusion entity inside her belly squirm violently, intensifying the glowing patterns of tiny rings under her skin. Overwhelmed by dizziness and nausea, it felt as if her very soul was being drawn out by this eerie music.
Forcing herself to look away, she sought an escape route. Elevators and emergency exits downstairs were sealed off by heavy alloy gates, indicating the "purification process" hadn't ended. Glancing past lounge chairs and parasols, everything appeared unusually neat, contrasting sharply with the chaos below. Only an open jewelry box on a velvet-lined dressing table caught her eye.
Inside lay a pair of pearl earrings, large and lustrous, set in platinum thorn bases. These earrings... Lila's heart clenched. She recognized them as part of her mother's belongings, the item she remembered most vividly, worn by her mother for the last time on her fifth birthday. Why were they here?
Almost instinctively, she reached out, trembling, and picked up the earrings. Their cold touch sent a chill through her, yet a strange familiarity and... allure compelled her to put them on her bleeding, raw earlobes.
Instantly upon securing the earrings, a blinding white light erupted from the pearls, a powerful electric current surging through her body, causing her to convulse and collapse. Simultaneously, the music from the pool distorted into a shrill, ear-piercing cacophony. This wasn't aimed at her ears but directly at her abdomen!
The fusion entity inside her uterus thrashed wildly, struggling to break free, tearing her insides with excruciating pain. This was Plan B from the pregnancy report—using specific sonic frequencies to induce premature maturation!
"I've got you... little mouse..." An icy, electronically-distorted voice echoed across the rooftop, not coming from any specific direction but seeming to reverberate directly in her mind. It was Harlowe's artificial intelligence, not destroyed in the explosion of the clone factory but permeating the entire gallery system!
Struggling to remove the earrings, she found them fused to her earlobes, the cold platinum thorns embedded deeply into her flesh, each attempt to pull them out bringing more severe electric shocks and agonizing abdominal pain. Curling up on the cold floor, her consciousness wavered under the torture of both pain and sonic assault.
No! She couldn't die here! And certainly not let this monster mature within her! With determination, she looked toward the central grotesque sculpture—the angel's sapphire heart! That was Scarlett's mechanoid heart, which she had previously placed in Scarlett's skull... How did it end up here? And why was it still beating?
A desperate idea flashed in her mind. Sapphire... energy core... maybe it could disrupt the sound waves? Gathering her last ounce of strength, enduring the agony, she dragged herself toward the pool's edge. Instantly submerged in the frigid "blood," the biting cold momentarily cleared her head.
"Futile struggle..." Harlowe AI mocked, "Those pearl earrings, voluntarily worn by your mother as a 'collar,' are also the key to initiating the final fusion process. They connect your nervous system to the emotional matrix of the fusion entity. Give up, become part of the masterpiece..."
Voluntarily worn by her mother? No! Impossible! Recalling fragments of her fifth birthday, her mother's eyes filled with fear and despair... That wasn't voluntary!
Swimming forward, every stroke aggravating her wounds, the unbearable pain nearly knocking her unconscious. Clones, explosions, pursuits, betrayals... All suffering and rage coalesced into a will to survive. Finally reaching the base of the central sculpture, she touched the beating sapphire heart.
Its surface was cold and smooth, yet emitted a faint warmth. She sensed immense energy within, along with... familiar consciousness waves? Were they remnants of Scarlett's consciousness? Or...
Without hesitation, she slammed the ear-adorned side of her head against the sapphire heart!
"Bam!" A muffled impact. Intense energy jolted her vision into blankness. The pearl earring shells shattered, revealing intricate micro-circuits and... a small piece of dark red tissue. The sonic attack ceased, the abdominal pain subsiding.
But simultaneously, the sapphire heart's glow intensified, a brilliant blue light shooting skyward, illuminating the entire night. The pool's "blood" began to boil violently, the spotlight beams distorting, projecting myriad ghostly images intertwining Ethan, Scarlett, and herself.
"Alert! Alert! Core overload! Forced initiation of final fusion stage!" Harlowe AI's voice turned sharp and frantic, "Container synchronization failure! Soul matrix disarray! Initiating emergency protocol—sector-wide purification!"
The entire rooftop shook violently, the pool's edge gates creaking open slowly, revealing unfathomable darkness below. The rooftop seemed destined to sink along with the pool!
Lila, sprawled on the crumbling sculpture, gasped for breath. She survived, temporarily escaping the sonic trap, but triggered even more terrifying consequences. Staring at the fragment of dried tissue from the pearl earrings, she realized it wasn't scab but... a piece of dried placenta! Her mother's! These earrings contained her mother's DNA!
And the overloaded sapphire heart, now absorbing scattered energies, including those from the fusion entity inside her, developed more cracks, something within seemingly ready to burst forth!
At this moment, a cold mechanical hand emerged from the boiling "blood," grabbing her ankle! Was it Harlowe's security robot? Or something worse?
Looking down, she saw hollow eyes burning with blue flames. It was... Milo! The security chief she had electrocuted with a server! Mostly replaced by machinery, his charred skin glinted with metallic bones, his face twisted in a mix of agony and fanaticism, muttering incessantly, "Fusion... immortality... Harlowe..."
He wasn't dead but "recycled" by Harlowe AI into some half-mechanical monstrosity!
Milo's arm tightened, dragging her toward the boiling blood. Meanwhile, the rooftop's descent accelerated, structural elements beginning to collapse. Above, police helicopter rotors roared closer. Trapped in this impending apocalyptic rooftop hell, she faced threats from all sides.
And that sapphire heart, about to explode, suddenly projected a faint holographic image—a blurry picture of a woman wearing pearl earrings, holding an infant, standing by the window of the gallery's attic, gazing outside at... a snowstorm in 1997. On the baby's left ring finger was a faint thorn mark.