Chapter 1: The Chase

  One sandal flew, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to slow down before her eyes. Leticiel watched it arc over Mrs. Ch'en's vegetable cart in a strangely graceful spiral. Then, reality snapped back. Her leading foot punched through a pyramid of bok choy and hit the pavement running. The stems crunched wet under her sole, immediately slicking against the cobblestone. The cart's wheel squealed as her hip clipped it, sending the whole thing toppling. She didn't spare a glance, not even as Mrs. Ch'en's voice erupted behind her, colorful and inventive with curses. Instead, Leticiel only moved faster, ten meters gone in a blink, shouting "I'M SORRY!" over her shoulder without slowing.

  Her courier vest bounced with every stride. She yanked the strap of her satchel, pinning it tight next to her chest holster, and ignored the retracted OPHANIM arm swaying with a metallic clack.

  She howled, "MOCHI! GET BACK HERE, YOU!"

  Ahead, the corpulent orange cat bounded over a black puddle, clearing it so cleanly not even a drop splashed his fur. The half-eaten pork bun still clamped firmly in his mouth, leaving a faint trailing steam.

  Leticiel hit the same puddle three seconds later. She stomped through the grime for traction, sending up clods of muck that slicked the pavement and nearly took her legs out. The viscous sludge clung to her skin and black pants, but she forced a balance.

  Her lungs burned. The cat was fast—stupidly fast for something shaped like a furry basketball. Her remaining sandal kicked free near the dumpling shop and skipped across the asphalt, but she was already too far gone to notice.

  Her focus locked onto the white-and-orange tail as it whipped around the corner. Leticiel's brow furrowed. She knew this route—and she knew exactly what Mochi was planning. Sucking in a lungful of cold damp air, she braced for the spot where Old Man Wu’s roofed trike was always parked. That same roof had hooked her hoodie and banged her head uncountable times, and she wasn’t about to let the cat get away that easily.

  Leticiel weighed her options at a dead sprint: bulldoze through the trash, kick the bottles and crates and risk a face-full of grim asphalt, or attempt the parkour route up the bamboo scaffolding she'd specifically banned from since the incident yesterday.

  Either way, she'd likely end the day with a scold and a new lump on her head. Her scalp still had the bruise from last time.

  The crates it was.

  Twisting around the corner, Leticiel launched. Her bare feet slapped the plastic crates with a wet thud; the stack groaned, but she was already airborne. One stack, then another, before she slammed down onto the trike's metal roof. The sheet boomed louder than expected; the shock spurred her even faster.

  She lunged, fingers snagging the rusted ladder of the fire escape. Prickly grit bit into her palms—she swung wide, catapulting toward the bamboo scaffolding.

  She felt weightless for a heartbeat before her feet struck the protruding crossbeam. The structure groaned and rocked. Momentum yanked her sideways, throwing her off balance; her arms whipped through the air until she caught the vertical pole, pinning herself against the wood. Dried husk and construction dust rained down, catching in her hair and sticking to the sweat on her neck.

  Further below, Mochi was an orange blur threading through shadows and cracked pavement without a glance. Leticiel surged, leaping gaps and weaving through the extending bamboo. Damp shirts and bedsheets billowed in the breeze, slapping wet fabric against her face as she heaved forward.

  A plastic hanger clipped her collar and snapped, spinning toward the ground as the lines hummed behind her. The alley compressed, damp concrete walls closing in until there was barely room to swing her elbows. She hit the final stretch, the bamboo wobbling and bending until the alley opened onto a deserted backstreet.

  Before she could take the final step, the flexed wood snapped back, flinging her across the open street. Leticiel grit her teeth, her body lurching out of control until her soles struck the curve of a massive metal pipe. She slammed down with a hollow, deep-bellied thud that thundered through the morning silence. The vibration rattled her very bones more than the noise.

  'Oh shit—' Leticiel's eyes widened as the echo bounced off the walls.

  Before a single window could creak open or a shout could follow, she was moving. She scrambled down the metallic length sandwiched between the buildings, fleeing into the alley depths.

  Overhead, a chaotic ceiling of power lines and rusted poles obscured the sky. Some were lashed with fraying twine; others were merely rotted bamboo slats held in place by the friction of the surrounding decay. The air turned stagnant, smelling of iron and old grease. Scant light seeped through the gaps, casting flickering shadows against the grime as her steps slapped against the metal.

  She dropped into a low slide under a dripping air conditioning unit. An instant, humid heat washed over her face, the machine's exhaust smelling of scorched dust. She held her breath, her ribs narrowly clearing the vibrating chassis before she vaulted a second pipe crossing to the opposite building.

  There. Fifty meters down, the ground was a jagged mess of concrete slabs, stacked like a deck of cards dropped in the mud. A flash of orange darted through the gray—that taunting, upright tail.

  "HEY! GET BACK HERE!" she roared aloud. Mochi's ears flicked back, his chunky body coiling before he bolted frantically. "You little—! This isn't what we agreed upon!"

  Mochi hooked a sharp left, diving into a vertical crack in the wall. He wedged himself deep, rear paws skittering and claws scratching for purchase against the slick masonry, but his bulk wouldn't fit.

  "HA!" Leticiel grinned as she saw her opening.

  She lunged for a rusted downspout five meters ahead, jamming herself into the narrow gap between the massive pipe and the wall. She tucked her gear tight, grappling the iron as she slid. The metal groaned; friction burned through her black pants and into her thighs until she hit the concrete with a heavy splash.

  The cat jolted. His hindquarters wedged for a second—then his mass shifted, fat squeezing through like orange liquid.

  Leticiel thrust her arm into the gap until her shoulder hit the brick, jarring her to a stop. Her fingers clawed the empty, cold air. She retreated, stumbling back with a hand braced against the wall; the wet, abrasive stone bit into her palm as she leaned. She gasped in the mossy air, eyes wide in disbelief.

  "You have to be… fucking kidding me," she wheezed.

  Her lungs burned with every ragged breath. Through the slit, she watched that orange tail give one final, taunting flick before vanishing from view. Only a few dying rays of morning light pierced the narrow opening, illuminating the slow floating of dust motes in a space no human could ever enter.

  Leticiel gritted her teeth, the taste of stale alley air thick on her tongue as she scanned the heights. Two and half meters above the jagged crack, the wall broke open into a narrow, glassless aperture—a round design in the concrete barely wide enough for her shoulders.

  She snapped her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Tock. The sound was low, muffled by her closed lips, but the vibration hammered through her jawbone before detonating in her chest. It felt as if a physical weight had slammed into her torso, pinning her against the wall. For a heartbeat, her vision smeared; her form rippled and fluctuated, the edges of her silhouette drowning in a haze of shallow water. Then, the air displaced with a soft huff of pressure. A duplicate stood before her, the twin OPHANIM gear clashing with a sharp metallic rattle as the clone stabilized.

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  Neither wasted a breath. The double dropped into a crouch, straining to keep her back flat against the wall despite the OPHANIM gear jutting her shoulders. She cupped her hands, creating a stirrup of flesh and bone.

  Leticiel didn't hesitate. She notched her bare foot into the clone's palm, and with a coordinated heave, the double launched her upward. Leticiel’s fingers found purchase on the jagged masonry of the aperture. As the grit bit into her palms, her legs swung for a moment in the air—until the double caught her. Bracing both palms under Leticiel’s heels, the clone provided the final, solid boost she needed to clear the ledge.

  Momentum surged Leticiel upward, her courier vest scraping against the tight squeeze of the window frame. She hooked a sweaty elbow over the ledge; the OPHANIM arm clattered against the stone as she dragged herself through. With a final, gut-wrenching heave, she vaulted inside, tumbling onto the floor as sweat stung her eyes and splattered against the tiles.

  The view snapped from gloom to the blinding glare of the morning sun. A wall of cool air hit her, thick with a mineral tang of wet soil and crushed mint that she could taste on the back of her throat. It was a courtyard compound, though the surrounding high-rises squeezed the space until the concrete walls felt like they were leaning inward.

  A black, stagnant pond dominated the center, featuring an indecipherable animal statue that breached the surface like a fish. A safety net drooped in a sodden coil around the knee-high concrete ledge, its mesh heavy with rot, fallen leaves, and a stray pair of water-logged underwear. To her left, a jungle of greenery overflowed from ceramic pots arranged on makeshift bamboo racks. The passing breeze fluttered through petals and leaves Leticiel couldn't recognize, coloring the heavy air with a deceptive freshness. Every scrap of morning light seemed funneled into this single pit, as if the sun had picked this one spot to dump its heat.

  Across the pond, seven round plastic tables sat in a cluster under a tree. Their matching chairs were stacked upside down on the tabletops, legs pointing at the skies. The air was a thick, scented soup. Moisture clung to her skin as she stood at the edge of the light, her eyes narrow and scanning for that orange fur.

  Her head snapped left. Mochi was there, perched atop a low-profile AC compressor unit tucked beneath a set of protruding white window grills. The half-eaten pork bun was still wedged firmly in his teeth like a trophy of war. The unit hummed with a low, rhythmic thrum, and a trickle of wet condensation trailed down into the mossy brick pavement.

  Leticiel’s chest heaved in ragged, shallow breaths. She managed a jagged, triumphant grin, her finger trembling slightly as she pointed it at the entirely uninterested cat.

  "GOTCHA!"

  She bolted forward. Her tongue snapped against the roof of her mouth—tock.

  The sound was muffled, yet it rang clear behind her ears. An abrupt violent pressure clamped around her heart, crushing it before that familiar, heavy tug dragged the sensation into her guts. As her vision dissolved into a smear of colors, the space two meters behind the cat seemed to warp.

  Another Leticiel materialized. They were identical, right down to the grime on their noses and the wet, black hair clinging to their foreheads. Everything was the same except for their eyes—mismatched teal and red that the original could never fail to recognize. Neither spoke; they communicated only through their shared teal gazes. Then, they moved as one: the original lunged from the front, hands wide and low, while the duplicate surged from the rear.

  As if he realized the trap, Mochi's head whipped back and forth, his pupils dilating until his eyes were two obsidian pits of panic. He attempted a sharp turn, but his chunky paws skidded on the AC compressor. He moved with all the grace of a rusted dump truck—his heavy midsection swaying and hind legs scrambling for traction against the vibrating metal—before finally leaping just as the two Leticiels closed the two-meter gap in a pincer.

  Leticiel snatched him mid-leap, her fingers swallowed by his bulbous stomach. "YES!" she crowed, hoisting him like a heavy, championship trophy, shaking him in annoyance. She pulled him into a suffocating chest-lock, ignoring the prickle of his panicked hands clawing out. She buried her hands into his mane, messing it into a rug mess as revenge for the five blocks of hell he'd put her through.

  The duplicate stayed stoic. She simply plucked the pork bun from Mochi's locked jaw, the dough stretching until it tore, dropping bits of meat and chives. A glistening string of saliva trailed from the bun, making Leticiel recoil in disgust. Ignoring the filth, the clone reached into Leticiel's jacket and retrieved the polymer envelope.

  Leticiel's attention shifted, her frown deepening as she remembered what had gone amiss. Her brow twitched; the clone's fingers began to slough and rot, the skin corrupting into dry, charcoal-black flakes that reeked of scorched met. Even as the pork bun anomaly fought back, the clone showed no reaction. She shoved the meat into the envelope and slid the seal shut. The transparent polymer instantly flashed with a white mist, obscuring everything before the entire package shriveled inward.

  "I really should have brought the XM gloves," the clone muttered, giving voice to Leticiel's own regret. "And a proper containment unit."

  "Oh, well," Leticiel nonchalantly replied. "We'll make do with this."

  Leticiel let the clone tuck the polymer envelope into her jacket with a muffled crinkle. Her focus remained on the strange taint; its blackness spread at a noticeable pace, crawling from fingertips toward the wrist. The skin parched and split into scorched fissures.

  She frowned at the unexpected. It was a corruption, charring the flesh as if cooked by an invisible flame.

  An oily stench of acrid smoke and burnt meat hit her, coating her tongue with a metallic film of copper and soot. Leticiel recoiled, scrambling back three paces as she signaled with a sharp tilt of her head, commanding the clone to cease.

  The clone immediately responded with its eyes shut, the edges of its form began blurred, as the shape rippled into a liquid before it melted into a viscous sludge of charcoal. The liquid splashed on the concrete with a wet splatter before evaporating into a mist. A hearbeat later, the second girl was gone, leaving nothing behind but an acrid, metallic odor.

  Leticiel slowly raised her right hand, eyes locked on the fingers that had corrupted in the clone's grip. She hadn't touched the anomaly, but the sensory memory kept flashing. Her skin remained whole and muddy, yet her hand throbbed, pulsing like a deep cut.

  Mochi unleashed a jagged yowl of pure indignation, snapping Leticiel's focus. He twisted in her grip, his five-kilogram mass shifting as he tried to rake his back claws against her forearms. For a creature just rescued from an abnormality and certain death, his audacity carried a tangible, physical weight.

  Leticiel pinched his cheeks, her thumbs sinking into the stubborn warm jowls. "You absolute… menace," she gasped, gritting her teeth in annoyance. "Do you have any idea how much—"

  SMACK

  The blue rubber sandal slammed into the crown of her head with a dry, percussive slap. Jerking her chin toward down and sending a spray of saliva splashing onto the mossy brick. For a heartbeat, the courtyard wobbled; her vision smeared into a dizzying streak of green and gray as a reflexive, stinging heat spilled her tear ducts.

  "LETICIEL NAVARIS!"

  Leticiel’s shoulders shuddered as she felt her heart dropping. Her hand reached for the sore spot, finding a dull, throbbing mound; the skin wasn’t broken, at least, but the pounding ache in her skull suggested something worse than a concussion. Without even turning her head, she knew the culprit. That voice belonged to Mrs. Huang from the noodle shop.

  A sigh like a thousand disappointed grandmothers echoed through the air, followed by the hurried thump-thump of wooden sandals closing the distance with a brisk stride.

  "How many times I tell you-lah?" Mrs. Huang’s voice was every bit as loud as her heavy footsteps. "No jumping on the—"

  A gnarled hand shot out, fingers hooked like talons, reaching to snag Leticiel’s collar and wrench her around.

  But fingertips passed through empty air.

  The 'Leticiel' Mrs. Huang had been berating flickered abruptly. Her frame warped and liquified, melting into a viscous black liquid before collapsing onto the floor. The puddle of ink splattered and bubbled into a thick vapor, vanishing until nothing remained but the lingering scent of cheap perfume and floral shampoo, and laundry detergent.

  Mrs. Huang stared at her empty palm before her eyes sharpened into a glare. She snapped her head upward, eyes wide as she scanned the jagged skyline for the girl who had just dissolved into ink.

  Sixty meters away and two stories up, the real Leticiel perched on the edge of a slanted ceramic-tile roof. Mochi was wedged securely into her hoodie, chewing contentedly on something. She raised the dumpling like a victory torch, flashed an unrepentant grin and took an enormous bite.

  "SORRY, MRS. HUANG! I’VE GOT AN INSPECTION TO FINISH!" she roared.

  Her shout came out louder than expected, bouncing off the surrounding concrete walls. Without waiting for the inevitable second homing sandal, Leticiel panicked, pivoted, and dropped over the far side of the ridge. Her laughter echoed long after she had vanished from sight.