"Igor."
The girl's sweet voice called his name.
"elder brother."
She walked over to him, sat down, hugged her knees, and looked at him sadly.
"What's wrong with you?" Igor couldn't help but ask.
"I'm looking at you," Wendy replied.
She looked only eleven or twelve years old, wearing a white halter dress that reached her ankles, and curled up barefoot in the endless sea of flowers. An exquisite red hairpin was pinned on her short gray hair, which hung down beside her small ears. Her dark red eyes stared at Igor without blinking.
"It makes me sad to see you, dear brother."
Igor said, "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize, it's not your fault." Wendy looked away, folding her slender wrists. Her skin was much whiter than Igor's. "We haven't seen each other for a long time. I should be happy to see you again... but I'm sad, brother. I didn't expect so many things to happen after I left."
"I'm sorry." The girl shifted her gaze, but Igor stubbornly stared at her profile and apologized again, "I should have found you earlier."
"It's too late..." Wendy said softly with her eyes downcast.
Red blood-like marks appeared on her fair, delicate skin. Then, the girl's human outer shell began to crumble and peel away, revealing a scarred, stone-like interior. Her graying hair grew longer and longer, reaching her waist, and the red irises of her eyes transformed into vertical golden pupils in the blink of an eye.
A portrait as tall as a person suddenly appeared in the sea of flowers under the blue sky.
The girl stood up. She was a little taller than before, and her white skirt was shortened to her calves, making her gray-black skin look as hard and weathered as the scales of a lizard or a legendary dragon.
The only thing that remained unchanged was the cheap red heart-shaped hairpin on the side of her bangs.
"It's too late..." Wendy repeated, the sadness fading from her face, replaced by an icy coldness and rationality, mixed with a hint of bestial greed and madness, which made her pretty face look particularly ferocious. "I no longer hope to be saved, brother. Now I have the ability to protect myself, even to defeat everyone, so I no longer need you - Igor."
“…”
"Go back."
The girl walked towards the portrait and said, "Don't look for me anymore, and don't think about going back to the past. We are no longer the same, brother."
"So go back. It's not too late to give up now."
"Wait... wait a minute!" Igor shouted.
In the very center of the snow-white canvas was a swirling black hole. It looked as if Wendy was about to walk into the painting without looking back and never come out again.
He subconsciously stretched out his hand and grabbed the canvas that looked like a portal standing quietly in the sea of flowers.
Suddenly, a pitch-black, muddy tentacle stretched out from behind Igor and quickly wrapped around his waist.
"Igor." A familiar voice called from behind.
Igor paused, and Wendy vanished from his sight in an instant. The sea of flowers shattered like a broken mirror. He suddenly woke from his dream, sat up abruptly, and looked around in confusion, panting.
He was sitting on his bed in his apartment in the capital, and Azathoth sat beside him, looking at him thoughtfully.
"Are you having a nightmare?" asked the god.
"Yes." The scenes in the dream were as vivid as if they had really happened. Whenever Igor recalled them, they flowed through his mind like running water.
"I dreamt about Wendy... She told me not to try to find her anymore."
Igor hesitated and said, "In my dream, I felt very guilty. It might be because it took me so many years to find the clue, and Wendy looked different than before we separated."
Azathoth said: "You can treat this as an ordinary nightmare."
"...but you think it's unusual, don't you?"
"I think," Azathoth said thoughtfully, "that your sister is indeed no longer human. I'm not sure what form she takes, but it's impossible for a human to influence you with just a portrait."
Yesterday, Erica came home and told the adults about the portrait of Shirley Joyce in their home.
As a result, Igor had a nightmare at night.
This could be due to things like daytime thoughts and nighttime dreams, chest pressure during sleep, or recent mental stress, but...
"I just saw your sister's expression." Azathoth said a little unhappy, "She saw me at the last second before entering the portrait. That expression didn't look like she was unaware of anything. If it was just an ordinary nightmare, her details are too perfect."
It's not like he hasn't seen what ordinary people's nightmares are like. Most of the time, ordinary people's dreams are full of jumpy and absurd scenes. No matter how logical they are, they can't be as comprehensive as reality.
"W-what?" Igor stumbled. "Did you see Wendy just now?"
"Of course I was in your dream." Azathoth said as a matter of course, "Otherwise, how could I stop you from catching up in the end?"
Igor: “…”
He thought he had dreamed of Azathoth.
After all, this is not the first time that the Evil God has played such a key role of descending from the sky to save people from danger.
"What would happen if I followed?"
"I don't think she would allow you to catch up with her," Azathoth said. "After all, this is a dream controlled by her. If you can catch her, you are too weak."
Igor nodded.
No one asked such stupid questions as "If that's the case, why did you reach out your tentacles and grab me in the end?"
At about the same time, Shirley Joyce came to the research institute under the headquarters of the Federal Mecha R&D Department.
As always, she wore a simple, heavy, retro-style dress, her calf-hugging boots clacking against the floor with crisp clicks. Shirley expertly verified her identity and entered the building, located somewhere in the suburbs of the capital planet. A group of missionaries, dressed in their parish uniforms, hurried past her, looking anxious and flustered.
"……what happened?"
Watching this group of people quickly leave with their mobile devices in their hands, Shirley asked a little confusedly.
"Lord Viscount Joyce!" A short, fat Beta approached like a bee and said attentively, "You're here! These people are testing our new security system."
"Isn't that used by the military? What does that have to do with the Vatican?"
"Who knows?" The Workers' Institute spread out its chubby hands. "I heard there's a minor issue with their internal forum. Headquarters only gave out invitation codes for seventy-two anonymous discussion areas, but now the peak number of people online has reached seventy-three. I guess one of the old bishops miscounted."
He muttered, "Although they are all respected veterans, this does not prevent them from being electronic product killers."
Shirley cleared her throat.
The staff member immediately said, "How can I help you?"
"...I want to repair a portrait."
"...We are the Mecha R&D Department, Mr. Director." The staff member changed his address. "What did you want to do by coming to the institute today? I may have heard it wrong just now." Shirley looked down at him condescendingly.
She stood over 5'8" in her high-heeled boots. Her short white hair was pulled back into a bun, and her icy blue eyes were narrow and cold. Compared to the cool, misty aura she had exuded when she met Annie at the school gate, Shirley now looked even more like an iceberg. Her whole being exuded the feeling of "I'm not wrong, it's just that you don't understand."
"Report this to your superiors and tell them I've brought her here again."
The staff member rolled away in shame.
After a while, he rolled back: "Ms. Margarita is talking to Mr. Antonio and Bishop Gilbert. They said you can wait here for a while or go over now."
Shirley walked away without saying a word.
Margarita was a senior researcher at the institute, and her office was on the top floor, hundreds of meters high. Shirley took the elevator for a long time, and when she reached her destination, Defense Minister Antonio came to open the door for her.
The two Alphas stared at each other expressionlessly for two seconds.
Antonio: "I heard that you were scolded and ran away by the Griffin family master?"
Shirley: “…”
She pretended not to hear and looked past Antonio to see Bishop Gilbert discussing his dagger with Margarita.
The old bishop frowned. "Is there any way to make it quieter? Or perhaps more ordinary, less conspicuous?"
"No." Margarita leaned lazily in her chair and said, "This is a side effect of the 'divine blood'. It will warn of danger. You should go back and think carefully about whether you have encountered any dangerous people."
"By the way, I'm sorry about your kidneys."
Gilbert: "...I didn't injure my kidney, Ms. Margaret. You have been misled by rumors."
He nodded to Shirley, turned and left, and only three people were left in the room.
"I'm here to inquire about the performance of the new product," Antonio said automatically. "Langman Griffin has signed a new contract with the Vatican. Divine arts and supernatural powers may be used in the development and construction of civilian aircraft. If possible, this research institute will become the pilot site for the new federal project."
He looked at Shirley meaningfully again and followed Bishop Gilbert.
Finally, only Shirley and Margarita were left.
"Busy man, huh?" Shirley hummed, sitting down opposite Margarita and taking out the portrait next to her.
"I don't mind you taking on extra income, but you have to remember that this is the fundamental purpose of our research."
"Of course~" Margarita's frivolous voice passed by her ears like silk, then she stood up, took the portrait, and pulled away the black cloth covering it.
A black-skinned girl with long gray hair and golden vertical pupils suddenly appeared in front of the two.
Margarita looked at the girl in the painting across the paper, her eyes filled with obsession and excitement.
"When did she become like this?"
Then her eyes shifted to Viscount Joyce's hands wearing white lace gloves. After a pause, she asked, "What's wrong with your hands? Why are you wearing gloves?"
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