The air in the attic was frozen with fear. "Lila"—or rather, WDL (Wedding Dress Lila)—dressed in a blood-stained wedding gown, tilted her head, hollow eyes locked onto her, holding an extremely lifelike mechanical head of Ethan at the end of her arm, which seemed to curl up in a synchronous, eerie smile. She was as perfect as a piece of art and as cold as a weapon.
"Your heart... must be beautiful, right?" The voice of WDL was ethereal, carrying a synthesized sweetness, approaching step by step. Her movements were fluid, unlike any human's, each step precisely calculated, soundless on landing, like executing a flawless killing program.
Lila struggled to stand up, the pain from her broken ribs unbearable, the fusion within her stomach churned restlessly. She leaned against the self-portrait "Thorns," which had saved her life once, rough wooden thorns pricking into her back, bringing a touch of clear pain. "You are not me." Her voice was hoarse, trembling unconsciously.
"I am a more perfect you." WDL smiled slightly, suddenly accelerated like a ghost! Her speed was astonishing, fingers turning into claws, aiming straight for Lila's heart!
Lila instinctively rolled aside to dodge, knocking over a pile of white-cloth-covered picture frames. WDL's fingertips grazed her arm, leaving five deep wounds that exposed bone! Those weren't human nails but some kind of sharp alloy!
The attic instantly turned into a hunting ground. WDL, like an inexhaustible cheetah, launched fierce attacks repeatedly. Lila could only rely on her familiarity with the environment and survival instincts to evade clumsily. Picture frames, sculpture bases, abandoned easels... everything became temporary obstacles and weapons for her. But WDL's strength and speed far exceeded those of ordinary people, and she seemed to feel no pain—when Lila hit her arm with a shard of a picture frame, she merely tilted her head, twisting her arm at an inhuman angle, and continued attacking.
Dust filled the air, mixed with the smell of blood and machine oil (from WDL's joints?). The phantom melody of "Air on the G String" seemed to grow louder, seemingly accompanying this bizarre fratricide.
She had to find her weakness! Lila's gaze was fixed on WDL's lower back—a blue-glowing USB interface! That must be her control core or energy source!
Pretending to collapse, she fell beside scattered fragments of wedding photos and crushed "antidepressant" powder. As expected, WDL took the bait, diving over to deliver a fatal blow. Just as WDL approached, Lila grabbed a handful of dust mixed with drug powder and photo shards, throwing it hard at WDL's face!
WDL's actions faltered for tenths of a second! The nanobots in the drug powder seemed to have interfered with her system! Though she had no biological eyes to be blinded, the communication protocol among nanobots appeared momentarily disrupted!
Now! Enduring excruciating pain, Lila used all her strength to spring up, circling behind WDL, clutching a twisted metal key found amidst the remnants of a music box! She thrust the key forcefully into the glowing USB interface!
"Zzzt——!!!" An even sharper electrical noise than when Milo's energy interface short-circuited rang out! WDL convulsed violently, the blue light flashing wildly before going out abruptly!
WDL's body froze, like a power-off doll, collapsing stiffly to the ground, raising a cloud of dust. Her perfectly crafted head hit the floor with a dull thud, the mechanical head of Ethan rolling to one side.
Dead? Or just... shut down? Lila dared not take any chances, cautiously moving closer, nudging WDL with her foot. No response. She noticed some extremely tiny, data-stream-like points escaping from the damaged USB interface, quickly dissipating into the air. Was it data leakage? Or some form of self-destruct mechanism?
At this moment, footsteps and shouts clearly came from downstairs! It was the police! They had finally breached the floor barriers and were closing in on the attic!
She couldn't stay here! Lila glanced at the fallen WDL, then at the USB interface. Biting her lip, she picked up a sharp glass shard, cutting off a strand of her bloody hair, carefully wrapping it around the metal key stuck in the USB port. This might... capture some residual leaked data? She wasn't sure, just a desperate attempt.
Then, she picked up Ethan's mechanical head that had rolled aside, without looking, stuffing it into an old canvas bag. Finally, she took a deep look at the portrait "Thorns," removing it from the wall, wrapping it in a relatively clean dust cover, slinging it on her back. This painting had saved her life and held secrets; she had to take it with her.
Without further ado, she rushed towards the entrance of the ventilation duct at the other end of the attic. It was a secret passage she used to escape the pressure of exhibitions when she was younger, sneaking out to smoke. She hoped Harlowe hadn't discovered and sealed it yet.
Fortunately, the ventilation duct was still accessible. Crawling inside, she heard the police breaking through the attic door and shouting in surprise behind her. She crawled along the narrow, dark, dusty duct, the picture frame digging painfully into her back, the fusion within her stomach writhing uncomfortably due to the intense battle and current oppressive environment.
After what felt like forever, she emerged from a vent in the basement of an adjacent abandoned building. Free again, but covered in injuries, blood, and dirt, she looked like a demon crawling out of hell.
Where to next? Leaning against a cold wall, catching her breath, she pulled out the metal key wrapped in her hair. Under the dim streetlight in the alley, she saw some extremely tiny metallic dust-like particles attached to the hair strands, emitting almost invisible faint light in the darkness. Were these captured data fragments? How to read them?
Remembering the brief shutdown of WDL and the nanobot-laden drug powder, perhaps... specific environments or equipment were needed to read them? Suddenly, she thought of a place—the highly secretive, top-end clinic that provided plastic surgery services to Scarlett (and countless clones and victims) and the Harlowe family! If there was anywhere within the Harlowe Group with advanced equipment capable of handling such microscopic data, it would definitely be there! And it must also conceal more secrets about identity swaps and bodily modifications!
However, she had no clues about the clinic's exact location. Those leaking data... she tried bringing the metal key close to the chip implanted at the back of her neck. A faint tingling sensation followed, then some blurry images and characters flashed across her retina like garbled code—"...white iris...Fifth Avenue...encrypted billing...serial number 77..."
White Iris! She remembered, it was the name of a top-tier medical beauty institution in New York's Upper East Side, known for its extreme privacy and high costs! Its logo was a pure white iris flower!
Destination confirmed. She must go there immediately!
Tearing off her tattered clothes, she wrapped herself in slightly cleaner canvases found in the canvas bag, smearing paint and dirt on her face and hair to disguise herself as a filthy vagrant artist. Carrying the "Thorns" portrait on her back, hunched over, she blended into the shadows of Manhattan's early morning streets, where the night never truly sleeps.
The journey to the Upper East Side was fraught with danger. Sirens seemed omnipresent, surveillance cameras on street corners akin to Harlowe's eyes. She could only choose the most secluded alleys and abandoned subway tunnels. The fusion within her grew increasingly active, each fetal movement making her break out in cold sweat, sensing it absorbing her body's energy, healing her wounds—at a terrifying speed. It was 'helping' her, while also 'parasitizing' her.
Finally, as the first rays of dawn pierced the sky, she reached her destination. The "White Iris" clinic was hidden behind an unremarkable brownstone building, with no sign, only a delicate white iris emblem on the access control system.
Security was tight, requiring both iris and fingerprint verification. Hiding in the shadows, she observed several well-dressed but soulless-looking guests being ushered in. Their iris and fingerprint information... Lila glanced at Ethan's mechanical head in her hand. Although fake, it was exquisitely crafted, possibly...
With a determined mind, she walked up to the access control, aligning the mechanical eye with the iris scanner, pressing its finger onto the fingerprint reader. Unexpectedly, the system accepted the verification! A soft prompt sounded: "Welcome, Mr. Weston. Doctor Harlowe is waiting for your 'goods' at the top floor."
Goods? Referring to her? Or the fusion?
The door slid open silently, revealing a luxurious, cold interior reminiscent of a futuristic museum. The air smelled of disinfectant and an extremely expensive custom perfume. Several emotionless nurse robots dressed in white uniforms glided quietly past, their metal joints making slight grinding sounds. Here, silence prevailed, luxury was eerie.
Quickly slipping inside, avoiding the robots' scanning lines, based on previously captured data fragments, "encrypted billing" and "serial number 77" were crucial. She needed to find the clinic's database or finance office.
Using the building structure and decorations as cover, she made her way upward. Security increased significantly higher up, including laser scan nets and pressure-sensitive floors. However, compared to the gallery hell she'd experienced, this wasn't too difficult. The lock-picking and stealth skills learned in prison, along with some hacker knowledge gleaned from Ethan, now proved invaluable.
Ultimately, she reached the top floor, entering Dr. Harlowe's private area. This space was more like a strange blend of operating room, laboratory, and luxury goods collection. Human anatomy charts and abstract artworks hung on the walls, glass cabinets displayed various peculiar medical instruments and... some organs and tissue samples soaked in formaldehyde? One label read "Scarlett Harlowe - Original Skin Sample - 1997".
A massive alloy safe embedded in the wall required voiceprint and gene sequence dual verification. This she couldn't crack. But on the desk beside it sat an opened, uniquely shaped computer. The screensaver featured a slowly rotating white iris flower.
Trying several common passwords and dates related to Harlowe (0927, 1997), all failed. The computer seemed connected to an internal database. Carefully, she brought the metal key wrapped in her hair and data fragments near the computer's USB port (yes, there was a USB port here).
A flash of blue light at the interface, the computer screen instantly filled with numerous garbled codes, then popped up a list of encrypted files. Most files were labeled with dates and patient codes (SW, LW, EW, Clone A, Clone B...), except for one file highlighted in red—"PROJECT THORNS - ENCRYPTED BILLING - SEQ 77".
This was it! Clicking the file, a complex password input box appeared, requesting three layers of keys.
First layer: Iris sequence number. She entered the chip ID "Iris-0927". Passed.
Second layer: Thorn resonance frequency. Recalling the "Thorns" self-portrait and the bioelectricity it emitted, she attempted converting her name into a numeric format... failed. Then thinking of Ethan's music box and the distorted "Air on the G String"... she hummed the remembered melody, converting it into note codes. Passed!
Third layer: Fusion heartbeat signature. What was this? Looking at the inexplicable request on the screen, she felt despair. Did she need to cut open her abdomen?
Just then, the fusion within her gave a violent throb, immediately, the computer screen automatically recognized some biological signal. Displaying a real-time ECG, the peaks and troughs formed a unique binary code.
"Fusion biological imprint recognized. Key verified."
The encrypted file slowly opened. Inside wasn't a bill but a... very high-definition surgical video!
The perspective seemed to come from an operating room's shadowless lamp. In the center lay a naked young woman under anesthesia—it was her five years ago! Several doctors in White Iris uniforms (one of whom was unmistakably Harlowe!) were performing some minimally invasive surgery on her lower abdomen. They meticulously implanted something... glowing faintly blue, seed-like... into her uterus!
The timestamp in the lower right corner showed the surgery date, exactly one month before her imprisonment! While she was completely unaware and heavily drugged, Harlowe had already implanted the "fusion embryo" into her body! She wasn't just a container; she was chosen from the beginning... as the mother!
At the end of the video, Harlowe looked into the camera (hidden in the shadowless lamp), giving a cold, satisfied smile, mouthing silently, "Phase One Complete. Activate Project Thorns."
"Project Thorns"... So, her self-portrait "Thorns" wasn't just hiding clues but also served as the codename for the entire plan?!
While Lila was overwhelmed with shock, the office door slid open silently. A tall, thin man in a white coat wearing a white iris mask walked in, holding a gleaming... scalpel.
"It's really surprising, the vessel actually found its way here by itself." The voice beneath the mask was processed, cold and devoid of emotion, "It seems the rejection reaction of 'Project Thorns' is stronger than anticipated. But it doesn't matter, it's time for phase two—organ removal."