Chapter 93: Museum
Within the long-abandoned Old Theater, the ticket booth—silent for years—suddenly flickered to life. Its lights blazed unnaturally bright, and the creaky, ancient ticketing machine began to clatter. With a mechanical groan, it spat out red paper admission tickets into the air—an undeniably eerie sight. Yet Little Red Riding Hood stood beside it with calm familiarity, as if she had witnessed such a scene countless times.
Moments later, the chattering machine fell silent, and three conjoined red tickets landed in the dust-caked tray of the booth.
Little Red Riding Hood blinked in confusion. She didn’t immediately reach for them but instead tapped the booth’s glass. “Wait a moment—four tickets! There are four of us!”
No response came from the booth. Two or three seconds passed. Just as she was about to knock again, the lights in the booth flickered, then went out, plunging it into darkness.
Only the three red tickets remained, lying quietly in the dusty tray.
Yu Sheng stared at the scene in disbelief. He quickly counted the number of people present, then turned to Little Red Riding Hood, puzzled. “…What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. This has never happened before,” Little Red Riding Hood replied, uncertain. She took the tickets and glanced between Yu Sheng, Foxy, and Irene. “The entrance to the Museum is responsive. After sunset, it recognizes and answers valid entry requests on the hour and half-hour. It’s never made this kind of ‘deliberate error’ before.”
Yu Sheng furrowed his brows, scanning the group of four, including himself. Then, something clicked in his mind—his gaze fixed on Irene.
The Doll Lady squirmed. “…What?”
“Children under one meter enter free?” Yu Sheng ventured hesitantly.
Irene froze. Then, as realization dawned, she nearly exploded. “You’re the child! Your whole family are children! You have any idea how insulting that is to a mature lady like me?!”
As Yu Sheng restrained the flailing Doll Lady, he looked up at Little Red Riding Hood. “Does my guess seem plausible?”
She was still dazed. Despite her years as a Spirit Realm Detective and experience with all manner of cursed Doors, this was a first. After a long pause, she offered a vague, “There might be some truth to it…”
Irene immediately redirected her fury toward Little Red Riding Hood, leaping at her with a shriek—only to be instantly flattened by two Wolves that emerged from the shadows.
The Doll Lady looked like she was about to cry.
Yu Sheng tried to console her as he turned curiously to Little Red Riding Hood. “So… no one’s ever discovered this ‘rule’ before?”
She gave a pained smile. “Even the most reckless among us wouldn’t bring an infant under one meter tall on a mission…”
Irene genuinely burst into tears.
“Couldn’t you have put it more gently?!” Yu Sheng fussed over the sobbing Doll Lady, then sighed and looked back at the red-cloaked girl. “So, what now? We’re one ticket short. Can Irene still enter the Museum with us? Or does this ‘free entry’ rule mean she’s still eligible?”
“Hard to say. We’ll have to test it,” Little Red Riding Hood replied cautiously, distributing the tickets to Yu Sheng and Foxy. Still, she eyed the now-dark booth warily, muttering to herself, “…An entrance like this… could it really follow such humane ‘rules’?”
No answer came from the darkened booth. Instead, lights flickered on in the corridor leading into the theater, their dim glow seemingly urging the ticket-holders to proceed.
“Let’s go—the passage is open,” said Little Red Riding Hood, shaking off her doubts. She turned and headed into the lit corridor, waving to the others. “Stay behind me. Don’t do anything unnecessary.”
Yu Sheng instantly adopted a serious expression. Even Irene managed to suppress her anger, teeth gritted, and followed alongside Foxy, trailing behind Little Red Riding Hood into the long, narrow hallway.
The lights extended with their steps, slowly illuminating the depths of the Old Theater. After a while, Yu Sheng began to hear footsteps—more and more of them—as though invisible spectators were walking beside him, all heading toward the performance that was about to begin.
Then, as suddenly as they had come, the footsteps vanished.
A Door came into view—half-open, bright light spilling from within. Rows of neat seats and a stage at the far end were visible through the gap.
Little Red Riding Hood raised her red ticket. “Hold your tickets up high, like this. If you hear any scolding voices during entry, stop immediately and retreat—we’ll return the way we came. That would mean entry has failed. Forcing your way in would trigger a Dangerous Entity—the ‘Security Guard’. It’s extremely dangerous.”
Yu Sheng snapped to high alert. He and Foxy followed her example, raising their tickets as though presenting them to some unseen usher at the entrance. Then, cautiously, they stepped through the half-open Door.
He did not hear any reprimand—nor did Irene.
They entered the Old Theater, passing row upon row of dust-laden red seats from the rear. They walked to the front, settling in at the closest spot to the stage.
“These clothes are going to need a wash,” Yu Sheng muttered to Irene. “These seats are filthy—should’ve brought some old newspapers.”
Little Red Riding Hood, nearby, overheard and shot him a surprised glance. She still wasn’t used to Yu Sheng’s practical mindset, which, when applied to Otherworld operations, felt particularly bizarre.
Just then, a sharp bell rang from outside the theater.
As the chime echoed, the lights over the audience dimmed swiftly. With the click of relays, the spotlights above the stage burst to life one by one, casting bright beams downward. A second later, Yu Sheng heard it—applause.
A surge of clapping, whistling, and cheering erupted from the empty auditorium like a tidal wave crashing in from every direction.
Bathed in spotlight heat, Yu Sheng glanced around. Foxy, Irene, and Little Red Riding Hood stood nearby, all now in the center of the stage with him.
Just as the dossier had described: upon entering the Old Theater, one sits in the audience with a ticket. When the applause begins, the ticket holder transforms from an audience member into an “actor” on stage, and Night at the Museum commences.
It continues until the night performance ends—or until the “performance” so thoroughly pleases the unseen applauders that they are satisfied—or until an unfortunate actor becomes a new exhibit in the Museum.
Various stage props rose around them: beige walls, sculpted and painted ceilings, deep green and navy-blue flooring, Doors, display cases, chambers…
Everything moved quickly before Yu Sheng’s eyes, transforming into a bewildering maze-like Museum. A mural sprang into view on a distant wall, depicting a scarlet Dragon. In a blink, a plaster Knight emerged, sword raised, stabbing at the dragon in the mural. The two merged in battle, becoming a new bas-relief.
Armored soldiers marched from a distant Door—only to be ambushed midway by musketeers concealed in Paintings. Amid gunfire and smoke, the soldiers were utterly defeated. From their remains bloomed flowers, arranging themselves into neat decorative pots and green walls along visitor pathways…
The rumble of shifting architecture and the dizzying display lasted ten full minutes before silence finally fell.
Before Yu Sheng stretched a wide corridor lined with various landscape Paintings. Overhead, lights blazed, and far ahead, a hall seemed to shimmer.
Wolf whimpers came from around them. At some point, Little Red Riding Hood had already Summoned her Shadow Wolves. She glanced at the somewhat stunned Yu Sheng, smiling: “Got spooked? The ‘Museum’ is a remarkable place. Take away the danger, and it really is a wonderland of imagination—Aemorabi said as much before he died.”
Yu Sheng came to: “Who’s Aemorabi?”
“An artist from afar, quite renowned outside the Borderland. Died in the Museum—in pursuit of art,” she replied with a touch of reverence. “If we’re ‘lucky’ tonight, we might find a Painting called ‘Field’ in one of the sky-blue rooms. It bears Aemorabi’s signature. Created after he became part of the Museum.”
“You can still ‘create’ after becoming one of the Museum’s ‘exhibits’?”
“That’s the consensus. Occasionally, new pieces appear in the Museum tied to the victims who vanish here. Sometimes it’s portraits or sculptures, sometimes art bearing their signatures. The widely accepted theory is that it’s the Museum’s mechanism for ‘collection’ and ‘creation.’ But no need to panic. This place is only Danger Level 2. As long as we follow the rules, don’t confront the ‘guards’ directly, and avoid danger rooms, the Museum won’t actively try to kill you. It’s… relatively peaceful.”