Chapter 10: Killing Oneself

If, before today, someone had asked Mu Yu what his soul would feel like to the touch, he would have spat in their face and told them to take their roundness to the psychiatric ward and stop making trouble for others. But now, Mu Yu would answer, with utmost seriousness: "Cold."

Mu Yu thrust his arm through the gaping bullet hole, grasping the creature's throat with all his strength. Fortunately, the "monster" stood right in front of the glass, just close enough for Mu Yu to exert himself. Or perhaps, it was not just fortune, but rather that the monster had always stood at the glass, watching Mu Yu from steadfast resolve to helplessness.

The thought sent an involuntary shiver down Mu Yu's spine. A monster with his own face, hidden out of sight, observing his every move like an audience watching the highs and lows of a stage play—commenting, marveling at the beauty of the script, the finesse of the acting, yet never considering that the players on stage were living beings, with thoughts, with feelings.

Crimson liquid streamed down Mu Yu’s arm, pooling on the monster's neck like fiendish tattoos, and paired with that indifferent expression, it produced a gruesome beauty. But Mu Yu had no mind to appreciate it.

Pain from the glass slicing his arm finally registered, contorting Mu Yu's face into a snarl—not just from pain, but from asphyxiation. Yes, his lungs still strained for air, his heart labored to keep his blood flowing, yet the suffocating sensation gripped his throat and intensified with every ounce of force he exerted.

Dizziness, blurring vision, an overwhelming urge to vomit—his breaths were already desperate, but the feeling never eased, as if the oxygen entering his lungs vanished into some unknown place. How long can a person survive when they cannot take in air?

Mu Yu staggered back a step, his grip loosening, but his hand still resting on the monster's neck. The ordinary air in that moment tasted unbearably sweet, and Mu Yu gulped it down, feeling as though he had just circled the gates of the underworld.

The monster remained expressionless, as if nothing had happened. Odd—according to Mo Yan’s theory, at least two people were needed to keep the monster in check. But this one had shown no desire to attack from the start, only watching Mu Yu intently.

As if eyeing a succulent steak—plump, tender, full of flavor. Who would care about a steak’s resistance?

A chill of fear rose in Mu Yu as he gazed at that familiar yet alien face. The connection between himself and this monster seemed far deeper than he had imagined—strangling its throat had choked him as well.

Moreover...

Mu Yu raised his left hand, which he had used to steady himself against the vehicle, and felt his own throat. Five vivid red fingerprints burned there, stinging fiercely.

Not an illusion, but a real injury.

“Damn it!” Mu Yu withdrew his arm from the window and slammed his fist against the glass, leaving a bloody mark. “Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!”

If he had known this would be the outcome, he wouldn’t have bothered struggling—he might as well have just ended it with a single shot and been done with it.

With a bitter smile, Mu Yu slumped to the ground, exhaustion and despair welling up inside him. He’d suspected something like this might happen—after all, back in the hospital, the neighbor thrown out as a distraction had only died after the monster disappeared.

But Mu Yu and Mo Yan had both chosen to ignore that possibility, never mentioning it.

Lifting his head, Mu Yu pushed himself up with shaking arms.

The end had come; every story deserves a conclusion. With a wry smile, he gazed at the window, pondering how best to end himself—quickly, efficiently, and painlessly. A dignified death determines how soon the police will inform your family.

He didn’t want to strangle the monster now; he doubted he had the will to finish the job on himself. He’d nearly lost consciousness moments ago—his muscles had already slackened.

“Ugh, my head hurts... I’m an only child, what will Mom and Dad...”

Mu Yu’s words caught as his pupils widened involuntarily.

The monster was crawling up from the floor inside the ambulance, its limbs as stiff and awkward as wooden sticks, floundering in the cramped space like a drowning man. But soon, under Mu Yu’s frozen stare, the monster’s movements grew more fluid, mimicking Mu Yu’s earlier motions—using its hands for support, rising to its feet.

And perhaps it was a trick of the light, but Mu Yu thought he saw a glimmer in the creature’s previously vacant eyes.

It looked almost... human.

Mu Yu instinctively took a step back, astonishment written on his face. The monster imitated him, stumbling back a step and knocking scattered objects to the floor with a clatter.

Then, its dull features shifted—brows raised, mouth slightly open, facial muscles taut.

It wore the same look of shock, still a bit stiff, but otherwise identical.

Mu Yu dared not move. The monster had made no aggressive move so far, but an icy current raced up his spine. He found himself more frightened by this than by the mechanical, cold monsters he’d faced before.

He tentatively waved his arm.

The monster, no longer awkward, responded immediately, waving its arm as well.

Its expression seemed even more vivid.

Where at first it had looked like a lifeless automaton, now it bore the nuances of a living person, uncannily real. As if, by copying Mu Yu’s gestures, something nameless had begun to grow within it.

Like a soul.

Staring at the face before him, Mu Yu was gripped by a strange terror. He could no longer tell if he was looking at a monster or at his own reflection—every feature was now familiar.

It was as if he were looking at another version of himself.

Through mimicry, the monster had copied him completely. Mu Yu suspected that if he continued to move, the monster would become another him—bearing his appearance, his personality, his memories.

Would such a creature still be a monster, or would it be Mu Yu himself?

Suppressing the thoughts trying to surface, Mu Yu realized there was little time left. Whatever the means, he had to end this—either destroy the monster, or himself.

Yes, this monster was growing at a terrifying rate. If it succeeded in its mimicry, it would become a monster with a human identity, hiding among people. Mu Yu couldn’t even imagine the consequences.

Certainly, nothing good.

He locked eyes with his double and saw only cold indifference reflected back.

He could not believe such a monster would become a law-abiding citizen if it took his place. If it succeeded, his family would be the first to suffer—those closest to him would be quickest to notice the difference. Only by eliminating them would the disguise be flawless.

Mu Yu took a deep breath.

Yes, the monster was growing rapidly, and its strangeness was nearly unsolvable.

But during its growth, it was at its weakest. To perfectly copy Mu Yu, it had to mimic his every move within the ambulance.

Mu Yu’s gaze turned dangerous.

The monster, oblivious to his thoughts, stood there imitating him.

The last thing the monster should do is threaten his family.

With a sudden, almost leaping movement, Mu Yu sprang backward so quickly the monster hesitated for a moment. Then, it too leapt back, more agile than ever—a normal person’s grace.

But upon hitting the roof of the ambulance, it lost balance and crashed down, landing hard on an oxygen tank.

A piercing scream escaped Mu Yu’s lips outside the vehicle; it felt as if his spine had snapped.

The moment the monster hit the tank, Mu Yu’s tailbone twisted violently, the sound of splintering bone making his teeth ache.

He continued to fall, slamming into the hard concrete with a dull thud.

But this was only a fraction of the pain he now endured. Compared to the bruising from the impact, the agony of his bones being crushed to powder left Mu Yu voiceless—only wheezing breaths escaped his parted lips.

He no longer had the strength to lift his head or see what happened. It had all transpired in an instant, and now everything was darkness.

“So much pain...” was his last thought before consciousness faded.

In the parking lot, an ambulance had crashed with the force of a speeding truck, flipping several nearby vehicles and finally colliding with the solid wall, sending up a great cloud of dust.

No expert was needed—any bystander would quietly call the mortuary, seeing this wreckage. There was no point wasting public resources.

The vehicle was nearly flattened, pieces strewn everywhere. Yet, curiously, at the very center of the wreck, a human silhouette remained upright, collapsed but unbroken.

He—no, it should be said he—trembled continuously, as though trying to control his crushed, ravaged body.

With his one remaining eye, he peered through the shattered hull at the man sprawled on the concrete.

Gone was the former vacancy—now his eye brimmed with confusion, shock, and a deep, aching longing.

Yes, he had finally succeeded. He had copied everything of Mu Yu's—his body, his memories. No longer just a monster only Mu Yu could see, he was now a living, breathing Mu Yu in the world.

And yet, he had failed. The man who had created him had, in the last moment, destroyed him as well.

The monster—no, he should be called Mu Yu—took one last, lingering gaze at this vibrant, beautiful world.

How wondrous it was: the sky, the earth, sunlight, and air.

Things so ordinary, yet to Mu Yu they shone like jewels.

He had dwelled in darkness for so long; from the moment he had awareness, there was only unending blackness—days without hope or despair.

After all, to his eyes, the world had always been thus.

Until one day, there was light.

Though he knew what he had come for, from the moment he opened his eyes, he envied that other self.

Such a beautiful world—how he wished he could truly see it, just once.

His eye ceased to move, the last ray of sunlight glimmering in his pupil.

And in an instant, his body turned to dust, carried by the wind to settle upon the other broken, collapsed figure on the concrete.

As if, at last, he had returned home.