Part II
The explosion struck the northeastern corner of the main exhibition hall. A massive lighting rig collapsed from the ceiling, shattering part of the Fragmented Reflection installation. Glass and light splintered into the air like a dream torn apart.
Lin Xi rolled toward the nearest cover, keeping her body low. Swiftly reloading, her eyes scanned the surroundings like a predator, calculating angles of protection and the possible shadows of her attackers.
Lu Yan, meanwhile, pulled a pair of glasses from an inner pocket. The lenses emitted a faint blue glow, capturing thermal signals in the dark. He muttered under his breath, "Four o'clock—two targets. One close, one further."
"You shouldn't know that," Lin Xi said coldly.
"And you shouldn't shoot that well," Lu Yan shot back.
Before the next burst of gunfire, Lin Xi sprang up, hurling a micro flash grenade. The blinding burst lit up the corridor. In that brief window, she spun behind a pillar and fired—one clean shot to the carotid artery of the closer sniper. Blood sprayed. The attacker let out a short, sharp scream before collapsing.
The second shooter froze, hesitating just long enough for Lu Yan to launch a silver needle device from his sleeve. It struck the attacker's ankle with a crackling pulse, electricity seizing their limbs and dropping them flat.
"Precision neural disruption," Lin Xi observed with a glance. "Former combat medic?"
"No," Lu Yan replied, eyes never leaving her. "Hunter."
She said nothing more, but something unreadable flickered behind her gaze.
Just then, the emergency lights flickered on. Broken shadows stretched across the floor, and behind them, the shards of glass formed a strange pattern under the refracted beams—like a symbol matrix.
Lin Xi froze.
She had seen that exact configuration in her recurring childhood dreams, since the age of six. The layout resembled a kind of language—one no one had ever deciphered.
Her breath hitched. She touched her collarbone. The rose tattoo beneath her skin was growing hot again.
"This isn't a coincidence," she murmured. "This exhibition… it was a trap from the start."
But Lu Yan had already turned toward the corridor's end, brow furrowing. "We need to move. They're coming."
"Who?"
"Not the ones sent to kill you," he said darkly. "The ones sent to retrieve."
"Retrieve?" Her voice dropped.
At that moment, footsteps echoed from the other side of the gallery—calm, deliberate. Four figures emerged in the half-light, clad in black, faces obscured by masks. They carried custom, non-standard weapons. Their steps were synchronized—not mercenaries, but trained operatives.
"They're not after you," Lu Yan murmured. "They're after the tattoo."
Lin Xi was about to speak when a familiar voice echoed in her earpiece, smooth and teasing:
"Sweetheart, did you get yourself in trouble again?"
She froze, then quickly realized—it was the emergency comms chip implanted in her ear cartilage.
"Qin Qi?" she whispered.
"Don't move," the voice replied. "That comm unit in your neck? You fried its main node, but I just routed in through its backup. I can still trace your location."
"How—?"
"Your little art gala made the trending list. Gunfire mid-broadcast? Half the darknet thinks it's performance art. I've only got one agency left who hasn't called asking what you're up to."
Lin Xi sighed. "Could you not joke right now?"
"Fine." Qin Qi's voice snapped into a cooler, more focused tone. "I just uploaded an updated route map to your local feed. There's a hidden emergency exit at the west end—point C7. You remember that one?"
"I remember." Lin Xi's eyes flickered.
"Lu Yan seems… trustable for now," Qin Qi added with a pause. "But you've got more heat signatures closing in—three of them, two stories tall, enhanced exo-rigs. Do not fight. Run to C7."
"Copy that."
Lin Xi turned to Lu Yan. "We head west. Backup's waiting."
He raised a brow. "You have allies?"
"A hacker." She didn't elaborate. Together, they sprinted down the west corridor.
At its end stood a nearly invisible metal door, camouflaged by paint. Lin Xi pressed her thumb to a biometric groove. A pale beam scanned her print. Click—the door unlocked.
"You have access to the exhibition's emergency points?" Lu Yan asked while covering their rear.
"Never underestimate an artist's network," Lin Xi replied with a cold smirk.
They slipped inside. The door sealed shut behind them. The narrow corridor was lit by dim maintenance lights. Dust coated the walls, but fresh footprints marked the floor.
"Someone's already been here," Lu Yan said warily.
"She has," Lin Xi murmured.
At the next corner, a woman in a vintage leather jacket leaned lazily against the wall, chewing gum. A chip-like silver hairpin glinted behind her ear.
Qin Qi—Lin Xi's closest friend from university. Codename: Whisper. Once a cybersecurity consultant for several national agencie, now a globally-wanted free-agent hacker.
"You're not dead," Qin Qi said, blowing a gum bubble. Her eyes flicked to the glowing tattoo. "But that thing… looks like it just caused real trouble."
"You know what it is?" Lin Xi demanded.
"I know it's not from any tattoo shop," Qin Qi replied. She pulled out a micro-scanner and pointed it at Lin Xi's collarbone. "Let's see what it's broadcasting."
Lu Yan frowned. "Are you sure about scanning it?"
Qin Qi squinted at him. "And you are?"
"Lu Yan," he introduced.
She froze, her gaze locking on the faintly glowing rose on his chest. Her tone dropped, suddenly grim. "I've heard of you. Your mother—she was the lead designer of the Rose Protocol's prototype genome."
The air turned still.
Lin Xi's head jerked up, her expression stricken.
"What does that mean?" Her voice shook.
Qin Qi exhaled. "It's not a tattoo. It's a genetic marker. You and him… may be subjects from the same program—different phases, same experiment."
"Clones?" Lin Xi's voice cracked.
"Or memory composites," Qin Qi said calmly. "Another version of 'you.'"
"This isn't the time," Lu Yan cut in, his tone sharp.
His eyes narrowed toward the far end of the corridor. "They're here."