Chapter Nineteen: Mai Minghe · Maternity Unit

Now that she thought about it, Jonah had been watching her quite closely. He kept glancing back from time to time, checking if Mai Minghe was keeping up; whenever she hesitated or faltered, he urged her to move faster. Even though this young man seemed compassionate, he appeared overly concerned for her safety—not only rejecting any pretense but even willing to abandon his companions for her sake.

Of course, Mai Minghe’s reflections were all hindsight.

“Are you really that sure?” Jonah’s voice remained low, no longer breathy but still cautious, as if unwilling to be overheard.

“This is your first time entering the nest. How can you be certain that ringing the bell will always summon a resident? What if one resident didn’t come, or went but couldn’t overpower the others and simply didn’t enter the room?

“If I truly am just a hunter caught during an escape and thrown into this ward, and you’re this suspicious, wouldn’t you be throwing away a powerful ally?”

“…Are you?” Mai Minghe whispered.

Jonah licked his dry lips, thought for a moment, then smiled.

“…No.”

Before the words had fully left his mouth, Mai Minghe kicked a chair hard, sending it crashing directly toward Jonah.

Without waiting to see if it hit, she spun and bolted away—the chair slammed into something solid with a sharp “clang,” echoing ominously through the empty, silent waiting room.

It didn’t sound like it struck a person, but Mai Minghe had no time to look back. She dashed past the nurse’s station, sprinted across the hall, and headed toward the corridor she had come from—she remembered there were several examination rooms there, with doors left ajar. If she could rush inside and lock the door, perhaps she could hold Jonah off.

A sharp whistle sounded behind her, followed by Jonah’s shout: “Come!”

Was he calling something?

Mai Minghe forced herself to quicken her pace again and twisted sharply into the quiet corridor. Strangely, there was no sound of footsteps behind her; it seemed Jonah hadn’t caught up.

Unable to suppress her curiosity, she glanced quickly over her shoulder.

The corridor was empty; the pale light soaked the desolate space.

Jonah really hadn’t followed.

Why he hadn’t pursued her remained unclear, but having run this far, even if he started chasing now, she doubted he could catch her.

Should she still go into an examination room?

The thought flashed through Mai Minghe’s mind, and she decided immediately: yes.

She knew nothing about the Saint Louis Hospital within the nest; wandering blindly could be dangerous. Passing the rooms earlier, she had observed them enough to know they weren’t entirely unfamiliar.

The first room’s door was firmly locked; she tried turning the handle but it wouldn’t budge. She immediately moved on to the next, whose heavy steel-plated sliding door was partially open. Seeing its weight, she cursed inwardly and hurried past it.

Fortunately, the next room was close by and the door was left slightly open. She pushed quickly but found it wouldn’t open beyond a narrow gap, as if something was blocking it.

“Why don’t you go into the room you just passed?” Jonah’s voice asked.

Mai Minghe’s heart skipped a beat.

She slowly lifted her head and looked toward the sound, spotting a face hanging upside down from the corner where the ceiling met the wall.

Of course… Jonah had climbed the wall. He had come over that way, explaining the absence of footsteps.

Jonah’s torso was pressed against the ceiling, limbs gripping the plaster like a giant insect. Somehow, he had maneuvered above Mai Minghe’s head, though she had no idea how he managed to hold on without falling.

His neck bent downward, his eyes rolling so far back that the whites showed prominently—at that moment, Jonah reminded her of one of those dolls whose eyes flipped open and shut with gravity, always seeming like a living thing pretending to be lifeless.

She understood why the door wouldn’t open.

Jonah’s hand, not gripping the ceiling, had slipped into the door gap, clutching the edge firmly, preventing her from pushing or pulling it.

“Don’t rush, wait a little longer,” he said, mouth opening to reveal a row of upper teeth hanging upside down, faintly visible between his lips. “My child is coming soon. To reach maturity, the final form depends on you.”

What child?

Mai Minghe stepped back quickly, casting a glance down the corridor.

From around the corner emerged a tiny shadow. If it hadn’t been crawling toward her with a rustling motion, she might not have thought it was alive.

At first, it looked like a ball or a crumpled plastic bag; but moments later, she realized it was about the size of two fists—a wrinkled lump of flesh the color of raw meat. Along its sides, several thin legs moved rapidly, creating a shifting shadow.

What on earth was that?

Just as the thought crossed her mind, a sudden chill brushed her cheeks; two hands dangled upside down from the ceiling, fingers like iron claws firmly gripping her head.

Startled, Mai Minghe struggled wildly, pounding hard on the muscular arms with her fists, but all her blows produced was muffled thuds, failing to loosen the grip. The two masculine hands dug deep into her cheeks, pinching her chin and prying her mouth open.

The wrinkled pink lump seemed to grow excited, crawling faster as several tendril-like legs climbed up her pajama pants.

She had never wished for a weapon more desperately—anything, even a pipe would do—but tonight she was just an old woman confined to bed, clutching only a few garments and empty-handed.

“Don’t be afraid,” Jonah’s voice comforted her. “Look, I’m fine now. As long as the memory persists, the person isn’t truly dead. After I entered Jonah, the memories of ‘Jonah’ continue, which means ‘Jonah’ is still alive… just with a symbiont added.”

No wonder the round-headed creature’s blood had no effect on him—because the blood only touched Jonah’s body, not the resident’s original form.

Mai Minghe swung her arms furiously, trying to brush the creature away, but the fleshy mass was as agile as a cockroach, its legs flicking rapidly, dodging her hands and advancing relentlessly toward her head.

“You can try covering your mouth like Jonah did,” Jonah suggested from above.

Feigning concern, was he?

His words left her momentarily unsure whether to cover her mouth or not—was that his intention?

Now Mai Minghe truly regretted pressing the bell four times; since falling off the bed, one dangerous situation had followed another, each worse than the last.

Hesitating even briefly, the creature had already crawled onto her chest. Up close, it resembled a grotesque fusion of brain and insect—an icy, bloody aura rose from her chest as several thin legs stepped over her collarbone. A slimy, folded, ugly flesh mass came into her view.

Suppressing the instinct to raise her hands, she twisted her head desperately and quickly pulled off her pajama top. As people age, they feel the cold more acutely; she was no exception, wearing several layers to bed, with the outermost layer unbuttoned for easy removal.

Two long, slender appendages had already entered her mouth, causing both nausea and unbearable itching.

Mai Minghe lifted her gaze, aimed carefully, and swung the pajama top with all her strength, striking Jonah’s eyes with a sharp slap.

Since he inhabited a human body, he must be subject to human physiological limits.

Who could keep perfectly still after being hit in the eyes?

Jonah yelped involuntarily and loosened his grip on Mai Minghe’s hands slightly.

Feeling the restraint weaken, she bent down quickly, freeing her head from his reach. At the same time, she wrapped her hand in the pajama top and grabbed the creature climbing into her mouth, pulling it out.

Fortunately, the frail patient had nothing left to vomit; otherwise, seeing the snarling, twitching ball of flesh in front of her, she might have thrown up again.

Mai Minghe wrapped the creature in her pajama top, clenched her hand despite the nausea, and ran.

She could no longer afford to hesitate. When she realized she had run back to the steel sliding door, an idea struck her. She dashed inside, immediately turning by the door—and sure enough, Jonah, with bloodshot eyes half-closed, was crawling rapidly toward her, his face twisted.

“You slippery old lady—”

Mai Minghe set her jaw and grabbed the door.

These residents, indeed.

“I’m not an old lady,” she muttered, tossing the flesh ball onto the sliding track just in time. With a strong tug, the door pressed down on the lump.

Jonah’s scream sounded like his throat was tearing: “No, wait!”

The heavy sliding door, reinforced with steel and lead, slammed hard onto the wrinkled flesh ball that had just landed, squashing it instantly. It didn’t even cry out; blood and bits of flesh splattered everywhere. In an instant, only a flattened chunk of flesh remained between the door and the wall, its legs still twitching.

Before she could kick the flesh aside and close the door, a bulging vein snapped her attention as a hand slammed down on the doorframe.

In the narrow gap, Jonah’s half-face looked almost inhuman; his nostrils flared like newly opened bellows on his face.

“My child!” he screamed.

Mai Minghe pressed hard against the door, refusing to let him pull it open. At the same time, she quickly scanned the dim room and sighed inwardly.

As she suspected, it was a medical imaging room.

X-ray rooms require radiation shielding for doors and walls, and few hospitals install windows there—not because of a lack of special protective glass, but because it’s costly and uneconomical. This meant anyone chased into the X-ray room was trapped like a rat in a cage, with no escape.

This was why Mai Minghe had initially avoided entering: in a normal examination room, locking the door still left the possibility of escaping through a window, but in the X-ray room, no such chance existed.

“Do things like you really need to reproduce?” Mai Minghe gritted out, bracing the door with all her strength. “You’re in a nest already; no need for all that ecological propagation nonsense.”

“After I kill you,” Jonah hissed, his words dragging as if sticking together, “your body will decompose in the nest, and from your constituent cells, I will rebuild my child…”

“You mean, rebuild your child using my flesh and blood?”

Leaning against the wall, hands and feet braced on the door, muscles trembling, Mai Minghe still couldn’t fully shut the sliding door. As she scanned the room for something to use as a weapon, she spoke to buy time: “I’m afraid my flesh and blood aren’t disgusting enough to make one.”

Jonah suddenly laughed loudly.

“Flesh and blood? I don’t want your old, dry flesh! As long as you have ever contemplated ‘reproduction,’ your mind and body bear that imprint. The part of you that ever thought about ‘having children’ remains a part of you. Once I obtain that part—”

Mai Minghe was stunned.

She hadn’t expected to be reminded here and now of long-past memories: anxiety over her declining fertility, confusion over the choices to make, unease about old age’s prospects…

Unconsciously, her grip on the door slackened slightly.

Jonah seized the moment.

The sliding door was suddenly shoved open with force. Startled, Mai Minghe saw a head of red hair pushing through the gap.