I'm sorry, dear... I accidentally scared that person away."

Turing furrowed his brows slightly, his small face looking a bit aggrieved due to regret.

She flew up above the hole in the ceiling of the park, taking a step ahead of Merka to the second floor and reaching out her hand to Merka flying over.

"It's okay, Lilies is not really a trustworthy figure anyway, it's good that she's gone."

"I'm just curious... why was she not picked up by Aside for memory extraction."

And, what's even stranger, why didn't she reverse causality at the moment Turing caught her?

Is it unnecessary to use? Or is there a limit to the number of times? Or is reversing causality a huge drain on magical power?

None of it seems quite right...

I always feel like she's intentionally provoking Turing with her words.

"Be careful, there are many small stones here."

Turing pulled Merka up to the second floor, gently cautioning.

"But the decoration here is really strange, is this still a non-smoking area?"

【As a research institute, why have so many mirrors in the corridor, what exactly is the consideration...】

Turing looked around and found that he and Merka had arrived at a strange corridor.

Embedded on both sides of the corridor were seamlessly connected long mirrors.

The dim, eerie atmosphere, along the long and straight corridor, extended seemingly to an unreachable distance.

The path underfoot was not spacious, even narrow. A narrow corridor of about two meters wide, with an indescribably damp nylon print carpet, exuded a damp atmosphere that ordinary people could hardly bear, easily reminiscent of a murder scene in a horror movie.

Above Turing's head, a dim small lamp was set every six to seven steps, sensing Merka and Turing's arrival. The lamps crackled, blooming weakly, casting light on the mirrors on both sides of the corridor.

The suffocating atmosphere of horror almost made Merka choke, even his heart skipped a beat.

Unconsciously, Merka's breathing became heavier.

Merka had to admit, this scene did scare him a bit. He didn't even dare to look at the mirrors beside him, afraid that the reflection in the mirror would move differently from him.

"Don't be afraid, I'm here with you."

A slender hand hooked onto Merka's sleeve, along his wrist, pulling his five fingers together.

A scent unique to Turing, deep and profound like the sea, came forth, dispelling Merka's fear like an epiphany, calming his mind.

With a composed mind, Merka nodded towards Turing's back.

"Well, let's go."

Turing and Merka walked further and further away, moving away from the hole they had come up from, towards the depths of the corridor.

But the long corridor seemed endless, with no sign of reaching its end no matter how much they walked.

During the journey, Turing also looked back.

The hole they had come up from had completely disappeared from view, vanishing into the deep and desolate dark corridor.

The current situation seemed a bit awkward for the two of them, as they didn't seem to make progress whether they walked forward or backward.

"Let's go a little further, my magical vision seems to have seen the end."

Just as Turing was about to cast magic on the walls on both sides to see if they could find a new path, Merka spoke up.

So Turing nodded and continued to walk forward.

After about another thirty minutes, Turing and Merka finally reached the end.

A small white porcelain door resembling a bathroom stood at the end of the passageway.

Turing slightly pursed his lips, shielding Merka behind him, and continued to move forward at an unrelenting pace.

"Merka, don't try to be brave, stay behind me."

"Mm-hmm..."

Turing's hand blocked the essential path between Merka and the white porcelain door, while her other hand reached forward, firmly grasping the door handle.

At that moment when she pulled the door open, a fresh, decaying smell, like a lawnmower cutting through greenery, rushed towards Turing.

A woman.

A teenage girl who bore a striking resemblance to her mother, curled up on the steps lined with white porcelain tiles.

Her complexion was waxy yellow, like unpainted yellow dragon jade.

The woman's dress had been cut open, a grimacing gash running from her belly button to her most intimate area.

The shattered intestines, as if smeared with blood, spilled out from her hollowed belly.

Her lifeless abdomen seemed like a bamboo basket filled with a basket of fresh flowers, suddenly tipping over into a muddy puddle.