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墨書 Inktalez
As I kicked open the security door of Room 1704, a wave of almond scent mixed with decay hit me.
In the cold light of twenty-seven surveillance screens, a man in a white lab coat was installing eyeballs into a skeleton doll, the tip of his scalpel teasing a microcapsule that glowed with an eerie blue light.
"Professor Lu?" The gun of Old Chen trembled slightly.
The chemical expert, who should have turned to charred remains in the explosion three years ago, turned around. Beneath the scarred left side of his face, his intact right eye reflected the walls filled with death broadcasts.
19:15 - The Lethal Laboratory
The sound of the ventilation system was like the gasping breaths of a dying person. I stared at the row of reagent bottles on the workbench, their XT-37 labels stained brown with blood. Lu Wenzhao toyed with Lin Xue's earring, its diamond surface glinting as it caught the image of a girl disassembling a doll on the live feed.
"The explosion back then killed my assistant," he said suddenly, picking up a capsule with tweezers. "But it led me to discover something even more wonderful—" As the capsule fell into the culture solution, a scarlet mist revealed Zhang Mingyuan's face.
The holographic projection began to automatically play surveillance footage from three years ago. In the video, Zhang Mingyuan plunged a syringe into Lu Wenzhao's neck, stealing the XT-37 formula.
Old Chen's sidearm suddenly clicked into action: "So you cultivated an imitator for revenge?"
"No." Lu Wenzhao opened his lab coat to reveal his waist wrapped in test tubes filled with blue liquid. "I am creating a perfect closed loop." He pointed to a split screen on the live feed where a wardrobe door behind the girl was slowly opening.
19:33 - Countdown Restart
All the doll's eyeballs suddenly began to flicker red, and a new betting game popped up in the dark web live stream: [Room 1704 Survival Countdown 00:05:00]. The donation amounts skyrocketed at a rate of millions per second, and the top user with an inverted cross sent out blood-red comments: "Want to see fireworks?"
Suddenly, Xiao Zhang burst in holding a detector: "The concentration of XT-37 in the air has reached critical levels!" Before he finished speaking, the ventilation duct spewed out large amounts of Blue Mist.
Lu Wenzhao's maniacal laughter echoed through the toxic fog: "They forced my daughter to death through live streaming back then; now I want everyone to pay for it!"
As I lunged toward the control panel, I noticed a hidden folder. In three-year-old live stream recordings, a girl in school uniform was humiliated by comments telling her to "go die," and her final jump overlapped perfectly with Lin Xue's fall.
19:47 - A Desperate Turnaround
As Old Chen's bullet shattered the rack of reagent bottles, I was using an anatomical knife to slice open the doll's head. Hidden within cotton was a signal transmitter connected to a micro-detonator; the countdown stopped at 00:01:23. Lu Wenzhao suddenly tore open his shirt, revealing a biosensor taped over his heart: "Kill me, and the whole building will..."
"I don't need it." I raised the XT-37 crystal extracted from Lin Xue's fingernail. "The ventilation system in your lab has already been reverse-injected with the neutralizer."
Blue Mist suddenly turned white, and the test tubes at his waist exploded one after another. The dark web livestream began to shake violently.
As the tech team breached the server, twenty-seven doll eyes burst simultaneously, and the flying glass shards formed geographical coordinates in the air—exactly where Lu Wenzhao's daughter had fallen from the rooftop three years ago.
20:03 The Rain of Truth
Heavy rain washed over the cross marks at the edge of the rooftop. Old Chen fished out a rusty iron box from the bottom of a water tank, filled with photos of abused stray cats that had died. Each back bore a different ID—those were the accounts involved in the online bullying back then.
"My daughter just wanted to save these cats," Lu Wenzhao said with a light laugh while handcuffed. "They said all streamers should go to hell, so I'll create a hell."
He suddenly struggled and pointed into the distance. The window of Room 1702 in Jinxiu Apartment exploded, and twenty-seven dolls tied with cameras rose amidst the flames, like a wedding ceremony dedicated to demons.
As the sound of police sirens echoed through the city, I opened the notebook seized from the lab. The latest page was adorned with Lin Xue's photo, accompanied by a note: "Perfect beauty device, vocal cord modification progress 97%."
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