Chapter 94: “Security”
Yu Sheng found himself suddenly rethinking the concept of “peace” as defined by the Spirit Realm Detective and Investigator cosmologies in the Borderland.
Could such a bizarre and wicked place really be described as “peaceful”?
But with a brief reflection on that ominous Valley they’d previously encountered, he began to think Little Red Riding Hood’s description might not be so far off. The Museum, while certainly eerie, at least operated by a set of rules—ones that, if followed, guaranteed safe passage. In contrast, the Valley harbored a Dangerous Entity that would unrelentingly hunt down any intruder, no matter how well they obeyed the rules. Lethal hazards were woven into every corner of that Otherworld. When it came to sheer deadliness, the Valley was clearly the greater nightmare.
One of the key distinctions between Danger Level 2 and Danger Level 3 environments was this: could fatal threats be avoided by following the rules? In realms rated Level 3 or higher, death came unconditionally.
“We’re looking for a statue called the Weeping One,” Little Red Riding Hood whispered as she scanned the corridor ahead, her posture tense. “It’s a small statue, between fifteen to twenty-five centimeters in height. It’s a half-length figure of a weeping woman, her face buried in her hands. The lines are abstract, and the back is hollow. Normally, the statue is displayed alone in a White Exhibition Hall, with no guards or watchers. So once we find that hall, it should be relatively easy to grab the statue and leave.”
Yu Sheng trailed closely beside her, curiously taking in the surroundings of the Museum, and casually asked, “What does the Association of Strange Objects want with this thing anyway?”
“Who knows?” she replied with a shrug. “Maybe a collector offered the Association a fortune and they outsourced the job to us, or maybe the Association wants it for their own research. The Museum is one of the rare Otherworlds that continually generates ‘collectibles.’ Many of them are highly artistic. Not that I get the appeal myself, but some rich lunatics are obsessed with collecting harmless objects from this place. Sometimes, though, you’ll also find mysterious antiques and machines, things that seem to belong to some imagined civilization. Scholars consider them valuable for research, so they’ve been collecting too.”
Yu Sheng nodded thoughtfully and turned back to glance at the path they’d taken.
“What are you thinking about?” Little Red Riding Hood asked.
“I was thinking about that ‘stage’ earlier, the invisible clapping audience, and that ticket booth before that,” he said, voicing the question in his heart. “Those were clearly parts of the anomaly too. Doesn’t that mean the whole Old Theater is an Otherworld, and Night at the Museum is just one section of it?”
“You’ve hit the nail on the head,” she smirked. “The Old Theater is indeed the source of all the surrounding anomalies—but it’s not a full-fledged Otherworld. It’s just an entrance. A true Otherworld has its own closed-loop rules and spatiotemporal structure. The rules of the Museum don’t apply on the theater stage, so the two mustn’t be confused. Also…”
She paused and turned to look Yu Sheng in the eyes. “There’s another intel I’ll share with you: the theater connects to more than just the Museum.”
Yu Sheng raised an eyebrow. “More than just the Museum?”
“During sunset hours, the night performance leads to Night at the Museum. But in the daytime, another ticket window opens up, and the day performance leads to the Manor Mystery. That place is far more dangerous. Inside, there’s a ‘Suspect Zero’—a being that actively hunts down the ‘cast members.’ And it’s extremely powerful.”
“How’s it compare to Hunger?”
“…It’s no match for the Hunger influenced by the Dark Angels, but its abilities are strange and dangerous. I’ve never faced it personally, so I can’t say for sure.”
“I see.”
As they walked further into the Museum, Yu Sheng absorbed every shred of knowledge about the Otherworlds with keen interest. Irene perched silently on his shoulder, unusually quiet, as if deeply engrossed in listening.
Foxy, meanwhile, stayed alert, her fluffy ears swiveling with sharp precision, picking up every faint rustle within the Museum.
“Benefactor, that painting up ahead… it’s making a sound.”
She suddenly tugged at Yu Sheng’s sleeve, lowering her voice.
He and Little Red Riding Hood instantly froze.
A faint, almost imperceptible sound of breathing emerged from a painting ahead.
The image depicted a lion, pierced through the forehead by a sword. At the edge of the canvas, a gloved hand was visible, as if it had just hurled the weapon a moment before.
The sound of breathing came from the direction of the Blade Thrower, and as Yu Sheng and the others turned their attention to the painting, that breath grew suddenly clearer and heavier—like someone truly stood just beyond the unseen edge of the canvas, gasping with exertion after a brutal struggle against the painted lion.
“Skirt around it. Stick to the wall,” whispered Little Red Riding Hood, immediately lowering her voice as she guided Yu Sheng and the others to bypass the artifact emitting that dreadful breath.
The breathing gradually faded behind them.
Crossing the vast hall, they entered a corridor lined with numerous Doors. Yu Sheng cautiously opened one.
“Red Room,” he reported after a glance, withdrawing quickly.
“Skip it. Try the next one,” said Little Red Riding Hood without hesitation.
Yu Sheng nodded, walked a few more meters down the corridor, and tried another Door.
Behind it lay an empty hall, spacious and bathed in sky-blue light. Only a single pillar bearing a display plaque stood near the entrance. Upon it was written:
“My Friend and My Endless Wealth”
Creator: Fang Wen
Below was a curator’s note: A sorrowful piece, imbued with the creator’s lifetime of thoughts and reflections.
Yu Sheng stared at the plaque for a moment, then blinked and turned to Little Red Riding Hood. “…Does this Museum have a sense of humor?”
“The humor comes from those who were ‘devoured’ by the Museum,” she replied, shaking her head. “Their ‘final works’ often carry a bizarre, self-deprecating absurdity. But no one knows what state they were in when they created them—or if they were even still sane.”
She lifted her gaze, looking toward the far end of the hall of emptiness. There stood an exit.
“Let’s go through here. Many of the Exhibition Halls and corridors in the Museum are repetitive and randomly generated after each entry. No use memorizing a route. But the place isn’t truly infinite. If we keep following the rules and moving forward, with a bit of luck, we’ll reach the Exhibition Hall that houses the Weeping Ones.”
Yu Sheng nodded and moved ahead with Miss Foxy beside him.
But just as he stepped into the center of the hall, a stiff, mechanical footstep echoed from the opposite corridor, halting him in his tracks.
In the next instant, several staggering figures emerged.
They were mannequins—plastic dummies clad in security uniforms. Their glossy faces bore grotesque, artificial features, and with awkward, stuttering steps, they wobbled into the hall.
The fur on Miss Foxy’s tail and ears stood up in a sharp bristle.
“It’s the Security!“ Little Red Riding Hood gasped under her breath. “Why did the Museum suddenly generate Security units…”
She quickly regained composure, edging closer to Yu Sheng and lowering her voice. “Don’t step back. Don’t act suspicious. Security are Dangerous Entities, but they follow protocols. We haven’t broken any of the Museum’s regulations since entering. These things shouldn’t initiate atta—”
Her sentence cut short as Yu Sheng caught movement in the corner of his eye: one mannequin at the corridor entrance raised its hand—as if to blow a whistle.
A shrill, piercing sound erupted, echoing throughout the Exhibition Hall.
Instantly, all the Security mannequins snapped to action—charging toward them with a ferocity and speed no Human could achieve.
“Shit—!”
Yu Sheng barely had time to shout before he dove to the side, landing with a roll and lashing out with a vicious kick. His boot connected with one mannequin’s waist, producing a deafening clang of metal-on-stone.
The mannequin snapped in half at the waist, yet the recoil left Yu Sheng’s leg throbbing in pain.
“These bastards are solid! Like they’re made of damned rock!”
Almost simultaneously, a swarm of black threads erupted from the hand of the little doll perched on his shoulder, snaring another mannequin mid-charge and suspending it in the air.
Miss Foxy pounced with savage grace, tearing the suspended Security unit apart limb from limb, then spun and lashed her tail—sending its detached head flying.
But even before it hit the ground, the dismembered mannequin began to twitch violently. Its fragmented limbs twisted and writhed, crawling together like magnetic puzzle pieces—until it reassembled into a full form and lunged once more.
Worse still, from the direction of the corridor came the sound of countless other feet. More wobbling figures poured into Yu Sheng’s peripheral vision.