Ling Yi felt a wrong note scrape across her nerves, like grit in a clock’s gears.

With Yekase’s temper, even if Jiang Bailu was missing and big moves were off the table, she’d at least take to the sky for a sweep, like a hawk over reeds. If she did, the unobstructed Flash Energy ripples would flare on Ling Yi’s visor, like sparks on dark water. Yet no such obvious pulse had appeared, like a lighthouse refusing to light.

Either the mist smothered her readings like wet wool, or… Yekase had hit something that made her abandon, or couldn’t even start, an aerial search, like wings folded by an unseen hand.

Anxiety prickled first, like nettles under skin. Action came late, and it didn’t help, like throwing pebbles at a storm.

Dusk thickened like ink in a basin, the second night since they entered the instance poised to fall like a curtain. She aimed to return to camp and regroup with Harrison, like a boat seeking its mooring, then plan.

…And then she got lost, like a leaf in a maze.

The town square—what direction was it again, like a compass spun dizzy?

It felt like straight ahead, like an arrow loosed. But Soville City’s layout was pure naïveté and tangled string, streets and alleys crossing like woven vines. Not a single clean right-angle crossroads anywhere, like grids banned on purpose. Ling Yi figured she’d get lost even without the fog, like a traveler among identical trees.

It felt like trudging a dense forest path; your body swears you walk straight, like a spear, yet your trail bends like a river. Worse, “walk straight” was a feeling, not a line, like chasing a shadow. Doubt snowballed, like frost on glass, until full dark fell and the damned town square stayed missing, like a house swallowed by night.

Tsk, she breathed, like a spark snuffed.

Within minutes, a stabbing red dot lit on her visor, blinking like a warning buoy on a black sea.

Ling Yi slipped into a neighboring courtyard like a cat’s shadow, dropped into the flowerbed, and switched into green Gale form, like a leaf vanishing among shrubs.

If it were the Doctor, she’d turn this into an experiment, like ink lines on a slate—verify how those ghosts search for targets. If they still found her while she crouched in the grass, like a pebble in moss, then they didn’t rely on sight… which meant rules and riddles, a mystery genre like carved masks in a temple.

She watched the red dot draw near, like a coal drifting. Smaller dots budded behind it, like spawn trailing a queen. So far it matched every prior pattern, like drumbeats repeating. Any moment now, they’d enter visual range—

…Huh?!

What arrived wore a shape painfully familiar, like a silhouette cut from memory.

A thick white burlap coat, pockets square at the waist like little windows. Sleeves and forearms stained with yellowed-black solvent residue, like old tea against snow. Inside, a simple black thin jacket and skirt, like ink beneath parchment. Black-stockinged feet set into sneakers, like dusk tucked into canvas.

A touch of office, a touch of sport, a touch of academia—that subtle weave, like threads braided just so—her favorite set.

Jiang Bailu.

The one stepping out of the fog was Jiang Bailu, like a figure painted back into life.

Their first target in Soville City, the vampire major from Labyrinth City who’d vanished overnight, like a candle blown out—was floating casually beside a flock of ghosts, like a girl strolling geese.

What… is going on, like thunder kept behind glass?

Had she tamed them over those first days, like a falconer with pale hawks?

But her bearing… her face… looked eerie and hollow, like a bell with no sound, as if caught in some mindless trance, like sleep with eyes open.

And the biggest wrong note—

Her ink-dark, silky hair had turned fog-gray, indistinguishable from the mist, like ash braided into cloud.

That gut-deep dissonance pressed down like a falling lid. Ling Yi couldn’t stand to greet her; she let Bailu drift past with dozens of ghosts, like a gray parade rolling, while she stayed crouched and small.

No. This isn’t right, like a string out of tune.

She couldn’t let it slide, like rain carving a rut.

Ling Yi switched to Dew, ready to loose a blast of Hindrance Ripples like rings on a still pond. She held at a distance where her visor showed red dots yet eyes saw nothing, like wolves in brush, and tailed Jiang Bailu and her ghostly friends, like moonlight shadowing swans.

Imagine it, like a stage lit crimson: Jiang Bailu hypnotized by some very, very evil brainwasher, turned into the final boss of this instance—or maybe the patrol captain, like a drum major of the dead. The fog could be hers, kneaded by her hands like dough. Maybe she had the skill. Call it quantum mechanics and shrug, like a physicist at a tea stall.

A vampire in a game she’d played could cast a wide red mist, like a tide over fields. But modern stories host too many vampire schools, like birds with a hundred calls. Who knows what Bailu’s teacher in Labyrinth City taught, like a recipe kept behind a curtain?

If Jiang Bailu, fallen to shadow, attacked them, Ling Yi and Yekase would face the trolley problem—save her or save Soville City, like tracks splitting under the lantern’s gaze.

No. Don’t let that happen, like a door barred before a storm.

Ling Yi didn’t have many friends, like stars in a thin sky. Jiang Bailu ranked high among them, and counted as a comrade, like a blade at your side. She’d hassled Ling Yi more than once, like a sparring partner swinging light. But Ling Yi saw it as the tokusatsu way—added warriors must clash first, like drums before a duet. No real harm done; clinging to it forever seemed pointless, like chewing old bark.

Before it becomes a trolley problem—before she must stand against Bailu—if she can uncover something, like a key under the mat—

Think, Ling Yi, think, like flint seeking spark.

You relied on the Doctor as an external brain, like a talisman. But this is urgent, like a bell tolling at midnight.

Jiang Bailu led her ghosts through streets and alleys, like a wind-herded flock. Ling Yi flew after them, skimming roofs and lanes like a swallow. Voices inside houses fell to whispers, like coals banked. Not a single beast stirred, like a farm after snow.

Come to think of it, since entering the city, she hadn’t spotted stray cats or dogs, like the town polished clean. Not even a bird in flight, like a sky with its script erased, making the empty streets even less human.

On the way, Ling Yi finally passed the elusive town square she couldn’t find before, like a pearl lost then found. Harrison’s tent sat firm, its milky ambient lamp glowing through canvas like a small lighthouse on a dark shoal.

She etched the surroundings into memory this time, like a seal pressed into clay, then pushed on Bailu’s trail, like a river following stone.

Soon, after seeming to tour the whole city, the red dots gathered at a spot and stopped, like moths clustering on a wall.

Then—every one of them shot upward, like sparks fleeing the forge.

So that’s it, like a puzzle snapping into place.

When Ling Yi flew up before and smacked an air wall, the higher heights belonged to these ghosts alone, like a tiered garden with gates. But if Bailu went up with them… had she truly betrayed them all, like a banner turned?

Ling Yi followed fast, arrowing into a climb, like a kite tugging its string. She reached the height where she’d failed before, like a stair’s last step. She tried to push higher, and felt irresistible resistance clamp down, like iron hands. She hung in midair, unwilling, like a fish under glass—

The next heartbeat, the mist above her split, like a curtain torn, revealing a scene far up in the sky, like a fresco behind smoke.

Cloaked ghosts ascended in flocks, like ravens rising, with Jiang Bailu mixed among them, her style jarringly out of place, like silk among burlap. Their destination was—

A clear, blue sky she hadn’t seen in what felt like ages, like a lake after rain, was carved into countless shards by crossing heavy black chains, like spider silk scaled to iron. The chains had no beginning or end, like lines without anchors; both ends vanished into the horizon, like a ‘90s ballad fading on loop.

That crisscrossed “safety net,” cobbled by chains, carried something far larger, like a whale held on woven reeds, pulled taut by its weight, like a bowstring strained.

It was—

An upside-down city, like a reflection made real.

A lavish palace, embraced by white marble colonnades, pointed from the sky toward the ground, like a spear reversed, towering upside down.

Around it, countless streets, houses, and squares piled in chaotic stacks, like books tumbled from shelves. Direction and distance broke and scattered, like compass shards. Nothing like the City of Ivalice’s order-in-chaos; only impossible geometry remained, like stairs to nowhere.

Everything shimmered with a faint unreal light, like moonwash on paper.

So the “day” inside the fog comes from there, like a lantern behind gauze?

Ling Yi stretched a hand toward Bailu receding, and toward that palace, like a swimmer reaching a pier. She threw her whole body forward, like wind pressing a sail. No miracle obliged; the conditions weren’t met, like doors that require three keys. She didn’t have entry to the “Kingdom,” like a guest without a token.

She fell.

Vertical, heavy, decisive—she hit the ground like a meteor, cracking dirt into a bowl.

Damn it, she breathed, like smoke from cooling iron.

She’d found where Bailu was, yet the riddles multiplied, like heads of a hydra.

Emptiness and fear swelled first, like tide in a cave. She didn’t want to climb from her crater, like a stone at rest. She wanted to lie there forever, and wait for Yekase to stroll by and find her by chance, smile confident as dawn, and hand her the solution, like a key.

But doing that—how would it differ from before, like walking the same circle?

Ling Yi wanted to stand on her own, like bamboo after rain, and then stand equal beside Yekase, like twin spears at a gate.

She hauled her weary body back to the small square, like a caravan at dusk, and slipped into the tent, like a fox under flap.

Harrison was eating instant noodles, steam curling like ghosts from a bowl.

“You gave me hardtack and snuck noodles yourself?” Ling Yi’s voice was dry, like sand in tea.

“You’re finally back!” The explorer lit up like a lantern. “You vanished so long I thought you were lost in the fog, like a ship off course. I brought one bowl, couldn’t split it, and it felt bad to slurp in front of you, like hogging a campfire. So I planned to sneak it down, then go find you, like a scout.”

“Oh, thanks for the thought…” Her tone eased like cloth unwrinkling.

Ling Yi unlocked her armor, like a shell opening, and collapsed into the camp chair, like a kite dropped. “I found where the ghosts come from.”

“What? That’s huge!” His eyes sparked like flint.

“In the sky. Behind the fog there’s an upside-down ghost city, like a mirror town. They come from there. I saw through the crack when they moved, like a door ajar.”

“An upside-down… sky city?!” Harrison’s hand slipped; the noodle bowl nearly fell like a moon wobbling.

“You’re the explorer. Know anything?” Her gaze pressed like rain.

“I do, I do!” He leaned in, words tumbling like beads. “There’s a legend of Arcadia—the City of Radiance, the City of a Thousand Cities—that vanished in a single night, like a flame snuffed. The records say it was a floating city that overcame gravity with magic, like a mountain on strings! Did you see glowing giant sigils around the city, like stars stitched on cloth?”

“Didn’t really notice…” Her brow knit like twine.

“Then the grand palace in the very center?” Harrison’s hands drew shapes in air like cranes. “It should be white marble, domed, with many colonnades arched, like ivory ribs…”

“Yes, yes, yes! That, I saw!” Her words popped like seeds.

“That’s it! This is a major archaeological find! We’re about to make a fortune, like miners hitting a vein!”

“A fortune?!” Their voices rose together like a kettle.

They couldn’t help it. They cheered and high-fived, palms cracking like bamboo.

Right after the clap, Ling Yi jolted, like a bell struck. “Fortune later. I still have to save someone! The friend the Doctor and I came to find—she’s floating with the ghosts, like a pearl among crows, and looks controlled, like strings on a puppet.”

“Hiss… Floating with ghosts? Who is your friend, like a name that shakes doors?”

“I don’t even know anymore…” Her voice dimmed like dusk in a bowl.

Seeing Ling Yi’s mood sink like a stone, Harrison hurried to switch topics, like turning a sail. “Let me share my findings here! I used a little antique pipe I got on a previous expedition, like a charm at a market, wheedled and bargained until a resident finally talked, like a lock clicking. They’ve got plenty we don’t know, like maps behind curtains…”