The fire hose was icy and slippery. Every time Lila slid down a foot, her broken ribs sent waves of searing pain through her body. Below her lay a thick, choking darkness filled with suffocating smoke. Only occasional flashes from emergency backup lights outlined the jagged edges of broken floor slabs and twisted steel bars. The graffiti on the wall of Ethan's studio—depicting a pearl earring and an infant—burned into her retinas like a bloody brand: "The Maternal Sacrifice, the Eternal Cage." Sacrifice... cage... Was she and her mother doomed to repeat the same fate?
The fused entity inside her seemed to sense her despair and fury, stirring violently once more. The miniature wedding ring patterns beneath her skin blinked rapidly like stars in the dark. She could vaguely feel an alien consciousness probing, prying, cold and greedy, much like Harlowe.
Estimating the distance, she kicked away from the pipe as she neared the level with access to the attic maintenance passage. Her body slammed into a crumbling firewall. Bricks crumbled, revealing a narrow, dust-covered maintenance ladder behind it. The ladder was heavily rusted but appeared sturdy enough to bear her weight.
Climbing upward proved even harder than sliding down. The smoke grew thicker, almost impossible to breathe through. The air carried a strange mix of odors—moldy canvas, sharp turpentine, the acrid smell of burnt feathers (from Milo's remains?), faint traces of blood, and... the distinctive aroma of 1997 vintage red wine that had been etched into her olfactory memory. Was she close to the wine cellar on the top floor? Or was this entire building steeped in the fermented sins of the Harlowe family, like a massive barrel?
The melody of *Air on the G String* echoed eerily through the narrow passageway, intermittently interrupted by electrical static and something resembling the grinding noise of mechanical gears. The Harlowe AI, like an invisible hunter, used this deadly tune to track and chase her.
Finally, she pushed open a heavy, dust-laden iron door at the end of the passage. The hinges groaned painfully, as if awakening century-old spirits.
This was the gallery's attic—or rather, a morgue for artworks. The vast space was stacked with layer upon layer of canvases covered in white dust cloths, resembling countless ghosts shrouded in burial garments. The air was stagnant and heavy, dimly lit with only a few shafts of moonlight filtering through grimy skylights, casting pale patches on the floor. The dust lay thick like snow, leaving clear footprints with every step while stirring up choking clouds.
Ethan's note pointed to *The Thorn*. One of her early self-portraits. Before her imprisonment, she had despised it, seeing it as too blatant an exposure of her inner darkness and anger. Now, reflecting on it, perhaps it was the most honest of all her works.
But finding it among hundreds of "shrouded" paintings wouldn't be easy. She lifted a dust cloth to reveal a vibrant abstract painting. Not it. Another revealed a classical-style landscape imitation. Still not it. Time ticked by, and she could feel the AI's "gaze"—cold and probing—silently sweeping across the deathly silence. The stirring inside her grew stronger, as though the fused entity was also desperate to find something.
She closed her eyes, forcing herself to recall the details of *The Thorn*. Medium-sized, about half her height, dominated by deep reds and blacks, its brushstrokes were coarse, wild, and powerful. Yes—the frame! She remembered choosing a frame carved from black thorn wood to enhance the painting's oppressive atmosphere.
She began searching for a canvas with a distinctive frame. Pulling off one dust cloth after another, the dust made her cough incessantly, and the pain from her wounds surged like waves. Just as despair began to set in, her fingertips brushed against something familiar—rough, prickly texture.
She yanked off the cloth—it was *The Thorn*!
In the painting, the young woman (her past self) was tightly bound by countless twisted, grotesque black thorns piercing her skin, oozing dark red droplets of blood. Her eyes were hollow, angry, yet tinged with a trace of reluctant struggle. The entire composition exuded a tension of despair. But now, looking closer, Lila noticed something unusual.
The paint layer seemed unnaturally thick, with unnatural cracks in some places. The depiction of the thorns was strange; under certain light, the entwined lines seemed to form... blurry letters and numbers? She leaned in, squinting in the dim moonlight, barely making out fragments: "...LW...Cage...Pearl..."
"The maternal sacrifice, the eternal cage..." The words from the studio graffiti echoed in her mind! This painting concealed secrets about her mother and the pearl earring!
Even more chilling was the woman's eyes in the painting. Those once-familiar eyes seemed... to move in the dim light? Deep within the pupils, two faint red glows flickered, like hidden surveillance cameras in the dark!
Instinctively, she stepped back, her heart pounding wildly. Was it her imagination, or had Harlowe tampered with this painting? She recalled Ethan's music box and the microfilm. If he could hide things in the music box, surely he could have done the same here.
Carefully examining the frame, she felt a tiny bump near the bottom. Pressing it firmly, there was a soft click, and a hidden compartment popped open at the base of the frame.
Inside wasn't microfilm or a note—just a photograph. A wedding photo.
The backdrop featured the ornate stained glass of a church. The groom was the handsome Ethan, his smile stiff, his left ring finger unnaturally curled. But the bride... Lila's breath caught instantly.
The bride wore a priceless Harlowe haute couture wedding dress, her veil obscuring half her face. But the exposed jawline and the familiar curve of her lips—it was her! Lila Weston! Not Scarlett Harlowe!
This photo confirmed the authenticity of the bizarre marriage registration she had discovered at the end of Chapter Three! During those drug-induced, foggy days when she was completely unaware, she had actually married Ethan! Scarlett had been nothing more than a decoy, a pre-selected "vessel" and "stand-in"!
Anger, humiliation, disgust—all swirled within her chest. Clutching the photo so tightly her nails nearly pierced the paper, she suddenly noticed an extremely strange detail.
Behind Ethan and herself (the manipulated, veiled version), cast by the stained-glass window, were not just their two distinct shadows—but unmistakably a third shadow!
This third shadow was faint and blurred, almost blending into the background. It would be easy to miss without careful inspection. Its outline was distorted and eerie—not human-like. Instead, it resembled... an elongated, deformed iris? Or perhaps a coiled, ominous embryo?
No! Something was wrong! Lila leaned closer, scrutinizing under the moonlight streaming through the skylight. It wasn't an embryo—the shape of the shadow clearly depicted a figure wearing a crown of thorns, with skeletal wings—a fallen angel identical to the bone sculpture in the pool!
What was this third shadow? A symbol? An embodiment of Harlowe's will? Or... something real, lurking invisibly during the wedding?
Suddenly recalling the nano-tracking chips (Iris-0927) embedded in her antidepressants, she took out the empty pill bottle, crushed the last remaining tablet, and carefully sprinkled the powder over the wedding photo. Then, she powered up her phone (charged briefly during her descent) and turned on its UV light function, shining it over the picture.
A miracle occurred!
Under the UV light, the white powder emitted a faint glow, quickly absorbed by the area of the third shadow. Immediately, the shadow came alive! No longer a vague silhouette, it transformed into a dynamic image composed of countless flowing, blue-glowing nanobots!
These nanobots depicted a chilling scene: at the wedding, Mr. Harlowe stood in the shadows, holding what looked like a remote control device. Inside the bride's (the manipulated Lila's) pupils, the same blue glow emanated, matching the nanobots! Her movements were stiff, like a marionette entirely controlled remotely by Harlowe! Meanwhile, Ethan's face was filled with anguish and despair; his twitching ring finger revealed an implanted control mechanism being activated by Harlowe!
The entire wedding had been a meticulously orchestrated puppet show using nanotechnology and drugs for control—all to complete a legally binding ceremony (at least according to Harlowe's twisted rules)!
And the third shadow? It was the physical manifestation of Harlowe's omnipresent controlling will! Lurking in every corner, manipulating the fates of all pawns!
Even worse, as the nanobots activated, Lila felt the fused entity inside her resonate powerfully again! The subcutaneous wedding ring patterns flashed madly, and she sensed the microchips attempting to connect and synchronize with the newly activated nanobot imagery! Harlowe hadn't just controlled her past self—he was trying to dominate her future through the monster growing inside her!
"Analysis complete. Memory match with Harlowe mainframe records: 97%." The cold, mechanical female voice resounded once more—not from any direction but directly from deep within her brain! It was the nano-chips in the "antidepressants"! They weren't merely trackers but backdoors for the Harlowe AI to invade her mind! "Fusion synchronization program initiated. Lila Weston, your resistance is futile. Like your mother, you are destined to become part of Harlowe forever."
"No—!" Lila let out a desperate scream. She couldn't be controlled! She had to resist!
With sudden force, she tore the eerie wedding photo to shreds, stomping on the pieces coated with glowing powder. But the AI's voice didn't stop; instead, it mocked her: "Physical destruction cannot halt information synchronization. Nanobots activated, reconstructing your neural pathways. Soon, you will 'understand' and 'accept' your fate…"
Intense pain exploded in her head as foreign information, commands, and even fragments of Harlowe's thoughts flooded her brain involuntarily! Her vision blurred, her body lost control.
On the brink of total mental submersion, she suddenly glimpsed her self-portrait, *The Thorn*. The anger and defiance in the woman's eyes wrapped in thorns seemed even fiercer. And those red-glowing eyes—they weren't surveillance cameras! They were... warnings?!
Inspiration struck her. She pressed her palm forcefully onto the bleeding eyes in the portrait. A burning sensation shot through her hand, as if touching red-hot iron! A powerful bioelectric current surged from the painting, rushing along her arm straight into her brain!
"Alert! Unknown bioelectric field interference detected! Harlowe mainframe connection severed! Synchronization failed!" For the first time, panic crept into the AI's voice.
The excruciating headache vanished, and the sensation of mental control receded. Collapsing to the ground, she gasped for air. Had the painting... protected her? The pigment used for the eyes contained some sort of biological material capable of disrupting Harlowe's nanotechnology? Was it a special pigment she had unknowingly used years ago, or had Ethan secretly altered it later?
Before she could ponder further, the heavy iron door to the attic was violently forced open! Through the swirling smoke, a tall figure clad in a blood-stained wedding dress entered slowly. Not a clone—her movements fluid and graceful, exuding a haunting familiarity.
As the figure emerged from the smoke, Lila's pupils contracted sharply.
Her face bore an uncanny resemblance to Lila's own, but her eyes were cold and hollow, like the perfect doll. She wore a Harlowe haute couture wedding gown smeared with blood and burn marks—the very one Lila herself had worn in the manipulated photo! In her hands, she held what appeared to be Ethan's still-dripping head—but no, it was an incredibly lifelike mechanical replica!
"Sister, the wedding isn't over yet," the bridal-clad "Lila" tilted her head, smiling innocently yet eerily, her voice ethereal and inhuman. "Father says it's your turn… to offer your heart."
Her lower back bore no iris tattoo, no thorn birthmark—only a USB port glowing faintly with blue light?!