The eccentric doctor never makes a misdiagnosis!

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It was as if the stars were dying, causing people to feel uneasy.

Dorothy walked slowly and cautiously forward, trying to ignore the pain in her feet from the construction debris.

Inside the Mirror of Enlightenment club, she habitually went barefoot, allowing her to display her beautiful, lustrous nails and the gold thread ornaments between her toes and on the instep. This was a custom consistently upheld by the diviners of Ahanta.

Most of the time, dreams are just scattered images and fragments, lacking this level of realism, so much so that she never imagined that one day she would suffer because she didn't like wearing shoes.

The streets around here... feel strangely familiar.

After a brief stroll, Dorothy gradually realized the source of the familiarity.

This is Norlington East.

So, the collapsed building we just saw was the iconic tower of the Sunforge Order. Does this place represent some unknown past, a future in a certain timeline, or some possibility revealed by fate?

The thought that such a nightmarish scene might become a reality in the future sent a chill down Dorothy's spine.

She slowly bent down, her expression solemn as she picked up a strand of red sand and examined it closely.

Philosopher's Stone in its powdery state.

Even if you threw all the souls, flesh, bones, and spiritual materials of everyone in the entire Norrington East district into the alchemical furnace, you probably wouldn't get a Philosopher's Stone of this size. But right now, it's irrationally covering the streets like industrial sand everywhere.

Dorothy felt her heartbeat begin to become erratic.

When she stood up and looked up, the scene around her had already changed from outdoors to indoors. All the "turning points" and "processes" in the dream would be blurred, and the changes in the scene never needed any logical support.

The rigid, classical, and solemn decor... is the church of the mystery hunters.

Nearly a hundred headless corpses were placed beside the wall, resembling knight statues guarding the palace.

Judging from their leather hunting attire, they were all once hunters of the Funeral Court. Even those who had died long ago, with their skin withered and decayed, still had straight spines, as if forged from iron and steel, never bent or broken.

The chief hunter, with nothing around his neck, sat upright on a wooden square chair, his hands cradling his head with his eyes closed.

Dim light streamed through the iron-colored windowpanes, casting a shadowy figure of a nun holding a black scythe.

Her chestnut-grey eyes were indifferent, deep, and resolute, just like her heartless and emotionless father. For the funeral ministers of all generations, obsession was an incurable poison, yet it was also the only choice, or rather... the "antidote."

As the nun's gaze locked onto her, Dorothy vaguely realized that it was a face she had seen before.

5 is Sister Heda, who came to investigate after the Nightmare Guest attacked the club.

"—Sigh."

A barely perceptible sigh brushed past Dorothy's ear, bringing with it a slight chill.

She instinctively closed her eyes.

When Umbrella opened her eyes again, Dorothy was no longer in that magnificent church full of sword reliefs.

She returned to Qingqinan Street in the West District and found herself in a fortune-telling shop that bore the marks of her life over the past twenty years. The place was desolate and dilapidated, with lights still on but no sign of human life.

After a brief moment of dizziness, she saw a tall, elegant voice emerge from the oval mirror.

Second is Dorothy herself.

At this moment, she was wearing a mottled gauze dress adorned with both lamplight and velvety moths. Her expression was full of confusion and sorrow, yet also concealed a certain madness; her mental state seemed to be on the verge of collapse.

Dorothy pursed her lips slightly, then swallowed and followed this "self" on a leisurely stroll. Finally, they arrived at the edge of the secret realm, before a grave marked with a simple tombstone.

The inscription is quite simple, with no eulogy or birth and death dates, only a name.

Tong En Jin.

Tong En works as a receptionist and accountant at the Mirror of Enlightenment Club, and is also Dorothy's closest maid. To this mirror-wiping concierge, Tong En is practically family, like a sister without blood ties.

Another "Dorothy" slowly approached the grave, then pressed her cheek against the tombstone, as if a soft, sobbing murmur was gradually rising.

"It's been too long, Tong En. How many years have passed since I lost you? Forty years, fifty years, or even longer?"

"I've forgotten something."

"I never liked taking pictures or leaving portraits when I was young, so much so that I have now forgotten your face and voice. I thought that the followers of the Light of Light would never forget... but that is just an illusion, just the wishful thinking of a mortal as insignificant as dust."

Dorothy scrutinized this "self" with meticulous care, even forgetting to breathe.

She wanted to find some flaw or clue to prove that the scene before her was nothing but an absurd nightmare, but every change in the other person's expression was so real.

Even the habitual gesture of slightly curling her hair when she flips it is exactly the same as her own.

After a brief but long silence, Dorothy moved her lips again and whispered.

"I received my mother's last gifts, including this robe and the even more profound secret rituals of the Mirror of the Land. I know why she stopped at the fifth step and failed to enter the Apostle's path. I also know why she ultimately died... She died in radiance, in mercy, in compassion, and in love."

“If I didn’t exist, she would have risen to a higher level.”

At this point, Dorothy's voice took on a strange tone.

It wasn't sadness, confusion, anger, or anything else.

"Tong En, it must be cold here."

“I remember you would start buying me new clothes every September, saying you were worried I would catch a cold, but actually you were the one who was afraid of the cold. Every winter, you would wrap yourself up in many layers of cotton-padded coats and look like a round ball, then smile foolishly, like a fat snowman who had gained weight for winter.”

Upon hearing this, Dorothy suddenly realized the emotions hidden in the words of the other version of herself.

It was a pity, a pity that bordered on hysteria.

Why did I choose to bury you then? Why did I presumptuously disregard your request? Why... was I so foolish? Norrington has fallen into eternal darkness, the light is gone, and the lamps that are still burning will eventually be extinguished. I am trapped in despair.

"Why, why didn't I drink in the light from your pupils and skull in your final moments? That would have opened the tightly closed door for me, allowing me to step deeper into the incandescence. You and I would then embrace each other, never to be separated again..."

"That's how it should have been!"

A low, almost hoarse growl escaped Dorothy's throat.

"Just as the meaning of my birth was to be consumed by my mother, the meaning of your existence is to be seized by me. This is the ironclad rule of the mirror wiper, and the end of her and my life both stemmed from defying fate and that utterly foolish pity. So we both deserve to die, to turn to dust in a miserable decay."

At this point, Dorothy finally understood... that the "self" before her was not mourning a deceased person.

She was simply regretting that she hadn't drunk her fill of Tong En earlier and stepped into the fourth tier, nothing more.

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soup!

Chapter Nine: The Shadow of the Wax Flower Cave

From the frenzied state displayed by this other version of herself in front of the Tong En 4 graves, Dorothy sensed a multitude of negative emotions intertwined and surging within her.

They are dark and profound, so intense that they almost become tangible.

...It was the cold regret of wasted resources, the hysteria of being trapped, and the profound despair of life coming to an end. It was like the frantic struggle of a snake or rat after falling into a deep well, its weak and ugly state when it finally exhausted its strength.

Dorothy suppressed her breathing and heartbeat; her thoughts were a jumbled mess, making it difficult to form any concrete ideas.

Is this really just a dream?

Since mastering the secret rituals and truly becoming a mirror polisher, she has entered deep dreams hundreds of times, and lingered in shallower dream states countless times. But never before has it felt so real and stable, as if looking through a dark keyhole at another layer of history isolated beyond the door.

"call."

She slowly exhaled, trying to clear her mind and escape the daze she was in.

But... Dorothy, who was leaning against the stone tablet, suddenly trembled, then turned her head stiffly and strangely, like a marionette with her joints suspended by strings. Her dark eyes now flashed with a terrifying white light, as if she had heard the barely perceptible breath.

"Who is there?"

Dorothy from the future timeline focused her gaze for a moment before landing on the other version of herself in front of her.

"it's me?"

The next moment, she smiled with relief.

It was a cold, emotionless smile that sent chills down one's spine. It was like the vengeful spirit of a starving corpse discovering a feast, or a bankrupt merchant finding the last gold coin lost in a corner.

"How pathetic! You still don't know your true nature, and you still cling to ignorant and naive ideas. Do you really think the Unificationists have a way to make the Mirror Cleaner no longer need to feed on the contents of the skull? That's nothing but a complete fraud!"

"Lies, deception, and fooling—these are tricks that the mottled moth has known since the ancient, darkest times. The mirror-wiper, who seeks ascension, must seize the light of the souls and spirits of others, whether you like it or not, you will ultimately find it sweet."

[Future Peach Eight]々2∏※；<3〇儛肿`转〈：Le Si's smile disappeared, but the burning white light in her eyes intensified, almost to the point of being arrogant.

After whispering before the grave, she had shed all impurities from her mind except for reason, returning to purity. For those who follow the light, mortality should not exist... there is no room for anything else within the radiance.

Do you know why you don't have a father?

She stood up quietly and posed a question.

Of course, she didn't expect a response from the person in front of her. A moment later, a self-answering voice followed.

"Because, as Flame Lantern said, he truly does not exist. Your birth did not originate from the union of two people, but rather from the reflection of the Mirror Ritual. You, or rather I... are the independent 'past' that Flame Lantern separated from himself using the first type of ritual."

"She gave us new names, new life, and new spirit. Therefore, I should have been the key she used to unlock the doors of the apostles. Once we are united again, those seemingly unsolvable mysteries can be answered."

In the future, Dorothy stumbled towards another version of herself.

Her skin loosened and softened at a visible rate, and her bones seemed to disappear. Cracks spread like a spider web, and pure white light escaped from those tiny gaps.

"Hope remains! The Flame Lamp perished because of its mercy, and I am lost because of my weakness, but you still have the possibility of ascension."

"Abandon your hesitation, drink me dry, or be seized by me, this is your only choice."

Looking at her "self," now so close, with the light of her mind shining forth, the first thought that arose in Dorothy's mind was not fear. It was a hunger, a hunger different from physical desire and physiological needs.

But she ultimately took a cautious step back and did not accept the other party's willing offering.

This is the deepest dream, where any action could trigger unpredictable consequences. The safest course of action is to refuse all interaction with the outside world. (The remaining text appears to be unrelated and possibly machine-generated gibberish.)

If this factor weren't taken into account... would she have completely consumed the other self who was willing to give everything? The question flashed through Dorothy's mind, and she ultimately didn't avoid it. She knew she couldn't.

The answer is yes.

"You have chosen to refuse... then I shall ascend."

In the future, Dorothy's body became increasingly ethereal and hazy, her skin, flesh, and bones already in a semi-dissolved state, no longer able to contain the form beneath it composed of dazzling light. She reached out and grasped the cheeks of the person before her from both sides, then prepared to begin feeding with a ritualistic air.

At that very moment of contact, the real Dorothy realized the true nature of her other self.

The other party is some kind of formless, intangible dream creature, or perhaps we can use a more classical term to describe her... a nightmare. She has taken over and usurped an identity from a dream scene, with the ultimate goal of devouring her own soul reflected in the dream.

"Na!"

The cry of a deer rang out.

Before Dorothy could act, Luara's enormous form materialized like a bubble. She nimbly and deftly opened her mouth, seized the upper half of the nightmare's body, and then tilted her head back to swallow it whole.

A crisp chewing sound came, as if a silver mirror had been crushed to pieces.

Dorothy was suddenly overwhelmed by a strong sense of loss, as if she were falling from the clouds. After a moment of disorientation and drowsiness, she opened her eyes.

"..."

The air that filled her nostrils was no longer filled with the dust and sand of the wind, but with the soft fragrance of dream-like flowers and the osmanthus scent that belonged to Fran on her moth-shaped gauze robe. Within the veil of the divination room, tranquility reigned as always.

Flanders sat upright in a square chair, his legs crossed naturally, holding Gosnik's "The Sewing and Unraveling".

"Did you have a nightmare, Ms. Si Zhu?"

Her tone was steady and gentle, carrying a sense of calm that soothed her anxiety.

Liu: "If it's just a dream... then it's best if it's just a dream."

6. Dorothy tried to get up from the gray velvet bed, but the weakness manifested in her body from her spirit. She reached up and touched her forehead, wiping away the cold, fine beads of sweat. Even though she tried to hide it, her confusion and exhaustion were obvious.

In the past, when I tried to interpret dreams, I only got fragmented and incomplete glimpses.

But this time, it felt like stepping into a future of history... a future already decayed and destroyed by natural disasters and apocalypse. Both the horrifying scenes and the secrets spoken of by "himself" contained too much information and revelations.

Dorothy needs to try to calm herself down and carefully consider and discern the contents.

People quickly forget the contents of their dreams after waking up, but followers of the Light are exempt from this instinct. Even so, she still needs to write down the details with pen and paper so that she can recall them later.

Without a doubt, the dreamscape revealed in "Insight into the Shadow of Wax Flowers" represents a future that is heading in a certain direction.

What Dorothy cared about most was what her future self said.

I was not born through the union of two sexes, but rather a "past" extracted and separated by my mother. Like a sacrificial offering kept with me, I will be used once I have grown full feathers... This is the meaning of my existence.

Is this a fabricated lie, or a personal experience of my future self?

And my relationship with Tong En... would I really choose her as a sacrifice?

Dorothy desperately wanted to stop thinking about these problems, but she also knew all too well that running away would only make the worst possible outcome a reality. Fate had given her a clue; she had to find the optimal solution.

Besides, where did the enormous deer shadow that appeared at the end come from? Being able to feed directly on nightmares, it's probably no ordinary dream creature.