Chapter Forty-Seven: An Attempt

After a period of careful contemplation, Lily devised two possible approaches.

First: to move her own position within this world by a certain distance, and see if that would alter the point where she returned to the real world.

Second: to attempt, by means of her own abilities, to mystically change the spot where she would reappear in the real world, thereby avoiding danger.

Having considered these options thoroughly and confirmed there were no grave risks, Lily took a deep breath and pondered where she should move.

Drawing upon her previous two attempts, she understood that simply making minor shifts in location would change nothing; perhaps she needed to traverse a considerable distance to physically alter her landing point in reality.

At last, her gaze fixed on a certain spot—the location of the closest among the thirteen figures she had previously glimpsed. This figure appeared to be a young man, with an unmistakable glow emanating from his shoulder.

This would be both an experiment and a way to test some of her theories.

She had noticed the thirteen figures were scattered at varying distances from her, and their arrangement was irregular, lacking any aesthetic order. Since they were not aligned, something else must be determining their positions.

Bold speculation, careful verification—this was a maxim Dunn had once borrowed from some detective novel, but Lily found it apt.

Thus, she first surmised that the appearances of these figures corresponded to their actual positions in the real world. Therefore, if she drew close enough to where one of them had been, perhaps she would reappear near that person upon returning.

Of course, this was fraught with danger.

After all, Lily knew nothing about the environments or natures—whether good or ill—of those represented by the figures.

Yet, as the old saying went: when faced with two evils, choose the lesser. If Lily simply returned to the real world as she was, she might die on the spot, for that spine-chilling sense of peril had already triggered her deepest survival instincts.

With no other viable choice, she had to embrace the unknown. Besides, Lily was not who she once was—her abilities had grown more potent, more practical, and harder to guard against. She felt confident she could protect herself.

Arriving at the spot where the young man had vanished, Lily did not stand precisely there, but offset herself by a small distance. Once more, she concentrated, wrapping herself in her thoughts, simulating the sensation of detachment.

Immediately, that terrifying, hair-raising sensation swept over her, forcing her eyes wide open and making her abandon the attempt. She gasped anxiously for breath.

So, merely changing her position wasn’t enough, after all…

Although she had somewhat braced herself, Lily still felt a pang of disappointment at this outcome.

But she soon gave her face a gentle rub and turned to her second idea, seeking a solution from the perspective of the occult.

“From my previous attempts, it seems no matter how far I move, if I try to return to the real world, I face immense danger, yet cannot alter my position. This… must be some kind of rule, right?”

“But what is the underlying logic behind this rule… If I can uncover that, maybe I can change where I appear.”

As someone who could briefly utilize or even alter rules, Lily naturally had a deeper grasp of them than other practitioners of her path.

Take, for example, the rule that an object’s movement requires force—this force is one of the underlying logics. If Lily could temporarily alter or steal this logic, then perhaps objects would need another means to move, or might be unable to move at all.

She proceeded to draw up a list of possible underlying principles and planned to eliminate them one by one.

The first was her once-cherished belonging—her lost backpack, which held her food, drink, and daily necessities. These items could establish a mystical link with her. If the rule was based on such connections, then things like her pillow, blanket, or desk back in her room at the orphanage would also qualify as logical targets for alteration.

If successful, Lily might reappear in her own room.

Without delay, she closed her eyes, reached out her right hand, and slowly grasped at the air, twisting her wrist as if, in her mind, she were separating two puzzle pieces and inserting a new one in their place.

After completing this step, Lily again tried to envelop herself in thought, simulating the sensation of falling.

Once more, that dreadful, prickling fear surged over her—stronger, more vivid, and closer than before.

Aborting the attempt, Lily panted in terror, her eyes wide with shock.

Why did it feel even more terrifying, even closer to death?

Did I make a mistake, or is there a limit to how many times I can try?

If it’s the latter… then perhaps I have only two more chances—at most two attempts left before I must face that unimaginable horror directly.

——————————————————

Ander trailed at the very end of the group, like a soul lost. Beside him walked the dark-haired girl.

Liu Shiqin had probably heard Dunn’s explanation and felt deep sympathy for the boy at her side, but she was not skilled at offering comfort and had no good way to help him rally.

Given the unique nature of a guest in that mottled yet pure underworld, and because she had exchanged letters with Lily, Liu Shiqin had established a tenuous connection with her, allowing her to sense that Lily was, for the moment, unharmed. But such matters of the occult could not be shared with ordinary people.

Thus, Liu Shiqin was unable to tell the despondent youth at her side that his sister was temporarily out of danger.

She now followed the rest of the orphanage group as they made their slow return to St. Lance Orphanage. Unlike their journey here, silence reigned among them—beyond the bare minimum of vigilance and marking their path, few spoke or acted at all.

This made Liu Shiqin realize just how much Lily was trusted and cherished among these children, and within the orphanage itself.

According to Dunn’s account, Lily had been buried alive beneath the rubble of the three-story building’s collapse, and, weakened and immobile from the gaze of an indescribably terrifying entity just before the earthquake, she found self-rescue nearly impossible.

Yet Lily was still alive, which meant either she remained trapped beneath the ruins but had found another way to move, or she had triggered something and crossed into that other world.

The mention of that indescribable, dreadful gaze weighed on Liu Shiqin’s mind.

Recalling the door she herself had summoned amid the ruins, a portal reeking of corruption and depravity, Liu Shiqin drew upon her own occult knowledge to make cautious conjectures.

Unlike many practitioners of other paths, those on the path of the Guest were the most frequent travelers between the inner world and that other world—a gift of unparalleled mobility, but one fraught with unspeakable peril.

The more one experienced, the more those on the Guest’s path understood the iron rule for survival: do not look where you shouldn’t, do not listen to what you shouldn’t, do not venture where you shouldn’t. Only thus could one hope to live long.