Chapter 216

Chapter 216: Overflowing Nightmares

Yu Sheng barely processed that entire string of words. He stood there for two or three seconds before it fully sank in, and he didn’t have time to complain.

Because a new sound drifted up from deeper in the underground passage.

Bright flute notes, scattered and sweet, wavered closer and farther—as if the player stood somewhere in the corridor with the instrument pressed to their lips.

Then the flute vanished.

Dense footsteps replaced it. Wet footprints appeared out of nowhere on the floor ahead, as if a group of little children were running happily through the passage.

The footsteps turned into the rumble of a carriage rolling over stone slabs. The lights ahead dimmed in a blink, and the air filled with the sharp stink of gunpowder.

It only lasted a few seconds.

Then thick fog rolled in, layer upon layer, swallowing everything. Shadowy figures moved inside it, and the underground passage became an unfamiliar street in an instant. Crooked, tall houses leaned in on both sides. Pedestrians hurried through the night.

A bitter winter night settled over everything. The temperature dropped so fast it felt like the air itself turned to knives. Yu Sheng saw his breath crystallize into ice. The pedestrians along the street became countless lifeless ice statues almost at once.

A bright flame flared at a street corner. It grew larger, higher, brighter—warmth spreading like a promise.

Yu Sheng shook his head hard, fighting to pick out the original outline of the corridor through the fog. He lowered his head into the freezing wind and pushed forward, forcing his way through the nightmare bleeding into reality.

Then warm firelight blossomed near him.

In it, a figure with Rapunzel-like hair draped over her shoulders walked up, staring at him with confusion and surprise.

“…Brother? Why are you here?”

“Your nightmare is leaking into reality,” Yu Sheng said. Her form was already fading, breaking apart at the edges. He didn’t have time for a careful explanation. “Push tonight’s ‘stage’ forward as soon as you can, or go straight to the Sanctuary Wasteland and find Irene—”

He didn’t even finish.

The winter-night illusion began to tremble and peel away. Yu Sheng couldn’t tell if the girl heard him clearly. The last thing he saw was the sky of that brutal winter suddenly lighting up with something—flames blooming overhead as she raised her right hand high, as if summoning a white phosphorus bomb.

The corridor snapped back for a heartbeat.

Yu Sheng sprinted toward the exit. Little Red Riding Hood might still need time to gather the children, but the King’s knight company was guarding the rooms. Irene was watching over the Sanctuary Wasteland. The fairy tale members who had “fallen” into a ‘subset’ had shelter.

And yet unease spread through Yu Sheng’s chest, sharp and insistent, like he’d missed something obvious.

The moment that feeling peaked, pain stung the back of his hand.

Yu Sheng turned on instinct.

A thorny shrub had scratched him. A low branch had snagged his clothes.

Black forest.

Tangled trees and dense thickets filled his entire view. The corridor behind him—ceiling, walls, floor—was gone.

He whirled toward where the exit should have been and found only endless shadowed woodland. Trees stretched without limit, their canopies blocking the last trace of dusk in the sky. Hollow wind hissed through the trunks, carrying the distant howls of a wolf pack.

This didn’t feel like a normal leak, like illusion arts bleeding into reality.

It felt like he had truly stepped into the black forest.

Yu Sheng stopped short and listened, every nerve drawn tight.

A faint infant’s cry drifted through the trees—broken and blurry, but unending.

Then a tiny, thin voice hissed from behind a nearby bush, urgent and cautious at once. “Over here, over here—hey, I’m here—”

Yu Sheng looked toward the sound.

A hint of reddish-brown flickered behind a low bush.

Squirrel’s tail.

He hurried over and crouched beside the leaves. Squirrel was hidden behind a pile of branches, awkwardly holding two fallen leaves in front of herself while peeking out.

“Squirrel, you—”

“Shh!” Squirrel slapped a paw to her mouth, then scooted in front of Yu Sheng like she could block him with her tiny body. “Anka Aila is here.”

Yu Sheng’s nerves snapped tight. He drew a careful breath and scanned the forest. “Where?”

“You can’t see it,” Squirrel whispered, voice trembling. “It probably hasn’t seen you yet either. Only its gaze came here. I can’t explain it, but I remember that gaze. I remember what it feels like to be watched by it.”

Her eyes flicked around, frantic and sharp. “It’s searching for something. Just now, its gaze swept past here… the whole black forest went silent for a moment. Now the wolf pack is restless again.”

Not only the black forest.

Anka Aila’s gaze was sweeping across every subset in all of fairy tale, across every stage.

The thought hit Yu Sheng hard, and his expression darkened.

“What is it looking for?” he asked. “Is it still looking for that missing umbilical cord?”

“I don’t know, but… maybe not,” Squirrel whispered, shrinking farther under her leaves. “It’s been looking for that umbilical cord for years. There’s no reason it would suddenly be this frantic…”

She hesitated, then stared up at him, curiosity pushing through the fear. “Hey. Why did you come here all of a sudden? And you didn’t bring any other friends?”

“Part of the black forest has overflowed into the real world,” Yu Sheng said grimly. “I walked straight in from where the two overlapped.”

He wasn’t sure she truly understood, but time was short. After a beat, he gently reached out, cupped Squirrel in his palm, and patted her head.

“Things might change,” he said softly. “You need to find somewhere to hide. Do you have a place?”

Squirrel stared at him blankly. Without realizing it, she let the two leaves slip from her hands. She sat there dazed for a long moment, then nodded hard.

“Yes!”

Then, as if speaking the truth made her braver, she nodded again and again. “Squirrel can hide! There are lots of tree hollows in the black forest. Every hollow is a place for Squirrel to hide…”

“Good.” Yu Sheng exhaled once. “Hide in a tree hollow. No matter what happens, protect yourself first. And one more thing…”

He didn’t hesitate. He bit back a sharp breath and cut his finger open.

Squirrel jolted, staring at the bead of blood swelling at his fingertip.

“You’re bleeding!”

“Lick it,” Yu Sheng said.

“…Huh?”

“Every child has to,” Yu Sheng said seriously, meeting her eyes. “It’s the orphanage’s new rule.”

Squirrel’s tiny face went completely blank. Her walnut-sized brain clearly wasn’t built for anything complicated at a time like this. After a few seconds of failing to understand, she gave up—and, still dazed, licked Yu Sheng’s finger.

Only then did something shift in her expression. She seemed to vaguely grasp what “every child has to” meant. She looked nervous, awkward… and under the disbelief, a little happy.

Yu Sheng didn’t know if it would help. He didn’t know whether Squirrel—who had long since become part of the black forest—could gain the nightmare’s “shelter” the way the other children could.

He only knew that doing nothing felt worse.

And if he didn’t help her now, then in this endless forest she would truly be alone, hiding and running by herself.

Squirrel’s form gradually faded in his palm.

The black forest around them softened too, dimming as if the world were sinking into sleep. Darkness pooled between the trees. The dreamscape retreated once more.

Yu Sheng stood up and saw the corridor’s walls and floor reappearing between the thinning trunks.

He hurried toward the unsteady exit, found the stairs, and sprinted from the second basement level all the way to the first floor.

Grotesque scenes and strange sounds flared and died around him like stage props shoved on and off in panic—half-familiar fairy tale fragments, twisted characters, sharp horns, whistling light, a lion’s roar, princesses and princes singing. It felt like countless hands were reaching out, trying to drag him back down the stairs.

Yu Sheng tore through it without slowing.

Then he burst into the first-floor hall of the east building—and froze for half a heartbeat at the sight.

So many figures had already gathered.

Older children directed in sharp whispers. Half-grown kids helped keep order, checking belongings and helping younger brothers and sisters get dressed. The little ones stood in neat lines—some bleary-eyed, some clutching water bottles they’d grabbed in a hurry, some tense and frightened.

Yet not a single child cried out randomly. Dozens of dollheads filled the huge space, and the hall was almost unnaturally quiet.

The loudest sounds were Little Red Riding Hood and several other guardians, speaking quickly as they organized.

“Get your clothes on. Does everyone have their water bottle?”

“There’s clean water over there. Just bring your own bottle. Good—if you’re checked, wait over here.”

“Bring food and blankets too. There may not be beds or cooking conditions over there yet. It’s too rushed…”

“Count everyone once, then count again—Rapunzel, watch the line! The youngest ones are about to fall asleep again. Don’t let them lag behind!”

A high, excited shout burst from the crowd:

“Brother’s here! Door Opening Brother!”