《Astral identity》(Episode 01)(English version)

Section 1: Rainy Night Invitation

May 2048 A.D. The rainy season in Taipei’s NongTang (lane neighborhoods) always has a strange beauty. Neon lights cast distorted shadows on the moss-covered brick walls, and the raindrops seemed like metal threads twisted by an electromagnetic field, slanting into the glass of an old telephone booth. DieHuo (DieHuo – a character name) shook off the black-red-brown hair plastered to her cheek by the rain, her fingertips tapping on the glass in a rhythm that sped up and slowed down, as if playing a game with time. The delicate clown bells on her earlobes jingled softly, mingling with the sound of the rain, but couldn’t mask the hoarse laughter coming from outside the telephone booth.

“One bullet left, wanna play a game?” She pressed the smoking ZIPPO lighter to the corner of her eye, the orange-red flame illuminating half of her face, painted with clown makeup. A moment later, a dark red slip of paper slid through the gap in the telephone booth, the hasty handwriting steaming in the humid air: “What are we betting? The life of a fake?”

DieHuo’s pupils suddenly constricted. This line was a classic, often misquoted line from the “Apostle” regulator in the game Seventh Personality (a game within the story – think of it like a popular online game), but hearing it spoken in the real world sent chills down her spine. Suddenly, her headphones filled with hoarse laughter. “See the abandoned circus car at the end of the lane? Hide-and-seek begins—three, two, one…”

Before the countdown could finish, she burst out of the telephone booth, leaping onto the rooftops like a startled dove. The moment her boots crushed the tiles, a black shadow flashed atop the opposite clock tower. The shadow plunged down at an impossible angle, the sound of chains cutting through the air overlapping with the sound of her “Space Lock” skill from Astral Rail (another game/universe).

“Being clever, are we?” A hoarse voice suddenly came from behind her. DieHuo spun around, dodging the swinging chains, and saw the Regulator’s withered fingers holding a bell—not the one equipped by the Apostle in the game, but a “Fool’s Bell” identical to the ones on her earlobes. The metal grazed her ear, and she noticed that the Regulator’s face, revealed under the brim of his top hat, was pieced together with mechanical buttons.

The rain suddenly intensified, the flashing lights of vending machines and streetlights painting the alleyway in shades of blue and purple. The clatter of canned coffee created a sound barrier, and when DieHuo’s specially made gloves touched the air, a stinging sensation ran through her fingertips—the sub-sonic interference from Seventh Personality’s “Transformation Device”. She crushed the blue pill she’d just swallowed, and the “Phantom Harmony” interface, commonly used by Astral Rail agents, instantly appeared before her eyes, but when the system prompted “Abnormal Program Insertion,” she saw the Regulator’s clones multiply into six figures, surrounding her.

“Now do you understand? What is the Fool?” The Regulator’s voice jumped between the six clones, and he threw a special smoke bomb. Gray-purple smoke drifted, carrying the scent of juniper, mentioned in the lyrics of “Echoes of the Garden” – a scent that reminded her of the mysterious man she’d seen in the Fool’s Model Shop in her dream.

When the smoke cleared, she found herself chained to the top of the clock tower. The Regulator stood at the edge, his half-mechanical face glowing with red light, and the bell in his hand suddenly rang in unison with the bell on her earlobe. This sound triggered all the neon lights around them, forming a circle that resembled the “Spatial Distortion” array from the Seventh Personality map.

“Do you know why I chose today to meet you?” The Regulator pulled off his top hat, revealing blood-red pupils beneath the mechanical mask on his right face. “It’s the first day of the rainy season, and exactly three years ago today, I was granted a false death.”

DieHuo’s vision suddenly blurred. She remembered that rainy night, when, as a Astral Rail agent, she was supposed to carry out an “Assassin”ation mission, but the moment she saw the Regulator’s true face, she felt as if she had fallen into childhood. At that time, a delicate heart-shaped loop pendant hung around her neck, also shimmering with light. She had unilaterally modified the “Assassin”ation program. His tear stains on his left face, the mechanical gears on his right, and the “Fool’s Bell” hanging from his waist—

“Do you know what joy is? Hahaha~ I am joy!” The Regulator wrapped the chains around her neck, intentionally loosening them as he tightened them. The metal scraped against an old wound on her neck, the scar shaped exactly like the logo of Seventh Personality.

Below the clock tower, a police car with flashing lights was speeding towards the location. DieHuo suddenly realized that the Regulator had deliberately lured her to this clock tower – the site of the “Personality Replacement” operation planned by the “The Garden organization” three years ago. She reached for the “Space Lock” device at her waist, but touched a cold metal object in her pocket—a limited-edition Seventh Personality player badge that the Regulator had slipped into her pocket during the fight, with a small inscription on the back: “You are still my agent.”

“Hehe—” The Regulator suddenly laughed, but real pain flickered across his mechanical face. Mechanical gears fell from his feet, and on the inside of one of the gears, she could faintly see the markings of the Astral Rail squad’s secret code.

Section 2: Agent Number

The sound of raindrops hitting the clock tower’s glass windows synchronized with the chime of the Regulator’s bell. DieHuo’s fingertip brushed against the wound on her neck, the scar gleaming a rusty red under the neon lights. Three years ago, on a rainy night like this, she received a mission from the Astral Rail: “Eliminate key figures within the ‘The Garden organization’ .” The faces in the target photos were blurred by the system, but when she arrived at the abandoned theatre, she saw a half-masked face on the stage – half mechanical parts, half human skin.

“Agent X-00, your memory is seven minutes late.” “You know my agent number.” The Regulator’s mechanical voice suddenly switched to a human tone, his right face’s gear motor humming. “The mission report stated ‘target committed suicide,’ but the soundprint of this bell,” he shook the metal object corresponding to DieHuo’s earlobe, “never disappeared from our database.”

DieHuo’s pupils constricted. She remembered the chaotic scene on the theatre rooftop that night: the target suddenly ripped off his mask, revealing a handsome left face and the same cold smile as the Regulator now. He said, “Do you know why I chose this theatre, Agent?” as his right hand, clasped with a mechanical claw, held the chain now suspended around her neck.

“You should have executed the termination procedure.” The Regulator softened his tone, his right mechanical arm gently brushing her earlobe’s bell. “But you chose to modify the system code.” His fingertip stopped at her collarbone, where a flashing Astral Rail certification chip was embedded. “And this,” he suddenly yanked the chain towards the clock tower’s edge, causing her to fall, “is why I’ve waited three years.”

DieHuo activated her “Time Lock” device at her waist during the fall, but it only emitted a weak hum. She was startled to see the system interface suddenly display a “Personality Swap” plugin from the game Seventh Personality (第七人格 - a fictional game within the story), the same method the Regulator used to escape three years ago. As she prepared to activate her agent skill, “Illusion Harmony,” she saw the Regulator take off his tuxedo jacket, revealing the Astral Rail badge pinned to his left chest – the badge that was supposed to be destroyed with the target during the mission three years ago.

“What’s so surprising?” The Regulator pulled her back to the top of the clock tower, his mechanical claw deftly removing the chain. “Did you think I’d been your ‘Shadow Player’ for three years? Every time you executed a mission, I followed your every move.” He pointed to the streets below, where neon lights formed a virtual projection of the map from Seventh Personality. “I was playing a large-scale game of hide-and-seek with you.”

DieHuo’s gaze was suddenly drawn to the array of mechanical gears inside the clock tower. The shining metal gears were arranged in the star chart pattern of the Astral Rail, but upon closer inspection, they bore the logo of Seventh Personality. When she touched a gear inscribed with “Fool’s Bell” (愚者之鳴), the Regulator suddenly ambushed her from behind, the red light of his mechanical mask scanning the agent number tattoo on her wrist.

“Agent X-00,” his voice was a low rumble with metallic friction, “You’ve forgotten? What did I say on the theatre rooftop? ‘Do you know what a true fool is? It’s those who implant self-awareness into programs.’” He gently turned her wrist, revealing a pattern of gear lines on the inside that mirrored the lines on his mechanical face.

“It’s time to play one last game,” the Regulator suddenly ripped off his mask. The right side of his face revealed a small brand similar to the Astral Rail agent code “XY-00,” matching the format of DieHuo’s small tattoo. He placed his hands over her chest, the sensation of metal and flesh combining. “The rules are simple—within 7 minutes of the siren sounding, you must find the core data of “The Garden organization” hidden within the clock tower.”

DieHuo’s gaze swept over the objects hanging from his waist: in addition to the familiar bell, there was a faded photograph. The photo showed a younger her smiling with another figure under a juniper tree, the background resembling the main city map of Seventh Personality—exactly as it looked at the mission location three years ago.

“Time starts now.” The Regulator chuckled, and the mechanical gears behind him suddenly assembled into a giant clock. Raindrops outside the glass windows began to flow upwards. “But be careful, there are six ‘me’s’ waiting for you—” Before he could finish, six holographic projections suddenly appeared behind him, each figure wielding a weapon bearing the characteristics of the Seventh Personality Regulator.

In the chaos, DieHuo touched a mechanical device, activating the Astral Rail’s “Parallel World Shift” function. The scene instantly switched to the game setting of Seventh Personality: the clock tower transformed into a tower, the surrounding gears into electric chairs and restraints. She realized her agent uniform had changed into survivor attire, while the Regulator’s image jumped between reality and the virtual world.

While searching for the data, DieHuo discovered a note and some materials hidden within a gear compartment. The note was written in her handwriting from three years ago: “I choose to believe that some programs should be rewritten by humans.” As she reached for the final gear engraved with the Astral Rail code, the Regulator suddenly manifested his true form from the virtual projection.

“Truly amazing,” his mechanical hand gently caressed the small scar on her neck. “You found the data hidden by “The Garden organization”!” As DieHuo nodded, pain flashed across the Regulator’s face—the mechanical parts on his right face were gradually crumbling, revealing a small scar underneath that was identical to the one on DieHuo’s left face.

“Do you know why I chose today?” The Regulator handed her the data, and an emergency broadcast suddenly came through her earpiece from Astral Rail Command: “Agent X-00, you have triggered the mission backup program that was erased three years ago!” His mechanical voice suddenly mixed with human emotion. “Because three years ago today was originally—"

Thunder interrupted the sentence “—the day we were supposed to reunite.” In a flash of lightning, DieHuo saw the Astral Rail squad’s certification aura appearing in the Regulator’s right pupil beneath his crumbling mechanical mask—it was the certification code she had secretly implanted into the system when she unilaterally modified the mission.

It seems an “Assassin” dispatched by the “The Garden organization” has appeared, so we split up and made a quick escape.

Section 3: Dark Box of the Garden Organization

After the heavy rain began to subside, DieHuo hid from the fifth “Search” in the mechanical warehouse at the top of the clock tower. She touched her hot forehead, leaning against rusty gears, while an urgent communication from Astral Rail headquarters came through her headphones: “X-00, your location signal is jumping between the Seventh Personality server and the real world—" “Do you need support?”

“No support needed,” she whispered, cutting off the communication. Her fingertips unconsciously traced the small scar on her neck. Just now, on the third-floor intersection, she was certain she felt a vibration like human skin when the Regulator’s mechanical hand brushed over the wound.

A flash of lightning within the decaying wooden crate signaled that the “Hide and Seek” countdown period was about to reset. DieHuo took a deep breath, tucked half a juniper tree photograph into her agent suit pocket, and turned, colliding with a figure in the shadows behind her.

“You… why are you still here?” She instinctively raised her gun, but froze when the Regulator removed his mask—the mechanical parts on his right face were automatically repairing, and on his exposed right cheek, a scar glowed faintly, etched with the Astral Rail agent code “XY-00.”

“The Astral Rail code on your right face…” She raised her hand with difficulty, the agent tattoo on her wrist flashing. “Why is it so similar to mine?”

The Regulator suddenly pulled her into his arms, the vibrations from his mechanical chest indistinguishable from a human heartbeat. He pointed to her tattoo, triggering a hidden system interface: “The authentication code you implanted in my system is the inverse formula for X-00.” The Regulator was bluffing. “When you open the dark box on the deepest mechanical crate in the clock tower, you’ll understand the true purpose of “The Garden organization”—”

The steel structure above their heads suddenly twisted and groaned. DieHuo recognized it as the signal that the “Hide and Seek” game was about to reset. But in the moment a flash of lightning lit the sky, she saw dark red liquid seeping from the cracks in the Regulator’s mechanical face—it was clearly human blood.

“Careful!” She flipped her body before the Regulator could react, using the magnetic shield of her agent belt to block a hook blade that suddenly attacked. The holographic projection of a ““Assassin”” dispatched by the “The Garden organization” descended from the ceiling, but was countered by the Astral Rail agent’s system the moment it touched the shield.

Both of them seized this critical moment. The Regulator stuffed a string of “The Garden” keys into her hand, while DieHuo’s wrists were entangled by a second wave of electric chains. While deciphering the locking mechanism, she noticed that the carvings on the chains were a miniature map of the Seventh Personality main city.

At this moment, the Regulator was also entangled by electric currents around his mechanical body. He coughed up a mixture of oil and blood, but still managed a smile. “What ‘The Garden organization’ wants to erase and steal is the ‘Homeland Core’—the program that can materialize virtual memories—that we both created.”

A lump formed in DieHuo’s throat. She suddenly remembered a blurry dream she had this morning in the Seventh Personality main city: her mother’s virtual projection was standing under a juniper tree, handing her a keychain engraved with X-00, and then handing another similar keychain engraved with XY-00 to a young him. Could this person be my best friend from childhood?

“The last gear is in the basement of the clock tower.” The Regulator used the last of his strength to push her towards a safe passage, while he became further entangled by the surging electric currents. “Go open that dark box with ‘The Garden’ written on it—there you’ll find what happened ten years ago…”

His unfinished warning was cut short by an explosion. DieHuo ran frantically through the smoke, her headphones simultaneously broadcasting the evacuation order from Astral Rail headquarters and an emergency lockdown alert from the Seventh Personality server. She finally stopped in front of a mechanical crate covered with symbols of both Astral Rail and the Seventh Personality. The crate had a dark box with “The Garden” written on it. The moment her fingertips touched the lock, a line of blood-like script appeared on the box: “When the scars of virtual and reality overlap, please choose to trust the sincerity of your heartbeat.”

The moment DieHuo opened the dark box, a holographic projection displayed a double image: on the left was her mother’s figure under the juniper tree, and on the right flashed images of the Regulator’s personality backup program that she had secretly saved three years ago. When she unconsciously pressed the authentication button, the heavy rain outside the clock tower suddenly stopped, and the Regulator’s body, entangled by a mass of electric currents, began to virtualize—

“Wait! Who are you really—?” She turned around, managing to grab a piece of mechanical debris that was turning into data. The surface of the debris reflected the image of the Regulator and her childhood selves under the juniper tree. She quickly grabbed a drainage device and used it to divert the electric currents to another location. Once the drainage was complete, she saw a “No. 1 Experimental Report” and a laboratory address inside the “The Garden” dark box.

Section 4: Reflections of Homeland

The torrential rain extinguished the last emergency light in the clock tower basement, and DieHuo’s fingertips trembled on the surface of the dark box. The blue light of the holographic projection reflected in her eyes, layering images of her childhood playmate, ChenXing (ChenXing – a character name), and her mother.

“You already knew X-00 was my code name.” She pressed a fragment of the Regulator’s oil-stained uniform onto the lock, and a vintage surveillance video suddenly projected from the key – five-year-old ChenXing on tiptoes, folding a piece of paper into the shape of a juniper tree and stuffing it into the mailbox, while she herself huddled in her mother’s arms.

At that moment, the dark box shot out a beam of blue light towards the Regulator, ten meters away. In that instant, the Regulator’s mechanical body erupted in blinding arcs of electricity. When DieHuo rushed over, she only managed to grab his right hand, which was undergoing data conversion – and in his fingers, she found half of a faded kindergarten uniform photo, with the words “2035.3.12 Meet X-00 under the juniper tree. Remember to bring the Fool’s Mask” scrawled on the back.

“Let go of me.” The Regulator’s electronic voice suddenly took on a youthful tone. ““The Garden organization”’s scan net is closing in. I need to retreat…” Before he could finish, the clock tower’s alarm system pierced the dome. DieHuo realized the objects inside the dark box: a stack of “Garden Maps” composed of Seventh Personality character dolls. Each paper was marked with red ink, indicating the withdrawal signals for Astral Rail agents.

She suddenly realized the agent badge around her neck was glowing – it wasn’t a locating beacon. Inside the badge was a miniature “Homeland System” chip secretly slipped into it by the Regulator three years ago in the chemistry lab. When she pressed the chip into the core of the dark box, the entire clock tower was suddenly filled with a dizzying holographic projection:

A forty-eight-year-old mother stood under the juniper tree, behind her the steel walls of the Astral Rail agent training center. She gently opened her palm, revealing the Seventh Personality “Red Violin Case”, inside of which lay two keys strung together with mechanical gears – the personality backup chips she had secretly kept for the Regulator three years ago in the chemical warehouse.

“Do you finally understand?” The Regulator’s voice came from all directions, his mechanical arms gradually becoming transparent. “What ‘The Garden’ wants to erase and steal is the ‘Homeland Core’ that allows virtual personalities to survive in reality… and our childhoods were the zero-test case for this program.”

DieHuo’s headphones suddenly rang with the final evacuation notification from Astral Rail headquarters, but she chose to hold the Regulator’s fading body tighter. The blood-red inscription at the bottom of the dark box suddenly floated into a holographic explanation: “When the scars of the virtual and the real overlap, choose to believe in the frequency of your heartbeat – your heartbeat and his personality traits are the final authentication password for the ‘Homeland System’.”

Her fingertips touched the Seventh Personality “Mad Badge” on the Regulator’s chest – the emblem that had been hunted by “The Garden organization” suddenly emitted a blue light from Astral Rail. In the last three seconds before the clock tower began to collapse, DieHuo made a crazy decision:

She forcibly connected her Astral Rail agent chip to the Regulator’s mechanical core. The holographic projection violently distorted, revealing the truth deep beneath the clock tower – it wasn’t a Seventh Personality prison cell, but a “Homeland Therapy Room” converted from a Astral Rail train car, with papers left by her mother hanging on the walls:

“2036.3.12 When X-00 grows up, please plant my juniper seeds into the system core. 2039.5.20 The third personality integration test with XY-00 ChenXing was successful, but he refused to accept complete virtual embodiment.”

The clock tower no longer collapsed, but the Regulator’s mechanical body gradually disintegrated in the data stream. With his last bit of strength, he slipped a string of Astral Rail keys into her palm: “Go to the Seventh Personality’s… juniper cabin… there’s the Homeland Core left by your mother…” His unfinished words were cut off by an explosion, but his retinal projection remained fixed in DieHuo’s pupils – it was an entire starry sky woven with Astral Rail and Seventh Personality symbols, with the code “XY-00” flashing in the center. Finally, he transformed into a mechanical butterfly and disappeared.

Section 5: The Juniper Cabin’s Suicide Note

When the rain stopped at 3 AM, a mechanical butterfly appeared beside her, transforming into the Regulator’s body. A blue arc of electricity suddenly burst from the Regulator’s right arm. DieHuo instinctively reached out to support the melting metal, the touch feeling like holding a heated ice cube. They stood before a Victorian mansion, a rusted metal plaque hanging above the door reading “Experimental Base No. 9” – the address from the faded slip of paper inside the dark box.

“Do you want to go inside?” The Regulator’s voice wavered between mechanical and human tones, a stream of data flashing in his red eye. DieHuo’s Astral Rail chip suddenly vibrated violently, projecting a holographic map onto her collarbone, showing the interior of the building overlapping with the map of the Seventh Personality game (a virtual reality game mentioned earlier) at a rate of 0.01%.

The moment they pushed open the creaking oak door, a scent of decaying roses filled the air. A half-finished oil painting hung on the foyer wall; the woman’s face had been scratched out, but the folds of her skirt perfectly matched the design sketches for the “Dancer” character in the Seventh Personality game. DieHuo’s fingers brushed the back of the painting’s frame, revealing a hidden compartment containing a stack of experimental reports, corroded by acid.

“Subject X-00 – DieHuo’s brainwave frequency completely overlaps with the initial startup program of the Homeland Core.” As she read aloud, the Regulator’s mechanical spine suddenly contorted at an unnatural angle. “My mother’s handwriting… why did she write, ‘The weight of memory is deeper than the roots of a juniper tree’?”

A clicking sound of gears echoed from around the corner, and holographic warnings appeared on the walls: “Homeland Core certification failed. Subject XY-00 will undergo personality conversion.” The Regulator’s left side began to seep with black liquid metal, a sign that he was about to fully transform into a machine. DieHuo quickly pressed the Astral Rail chip in her pocket to the back of his neck – it was a “memory clearing program” left by her mother, but now acted like a reverse key.

“Pain…” The Regulator’s nails dug into DieHuo’s shoulder, a non-human growl escaping his throat. “I knew you had the Homeland Core’s memory synchronization ripples within you the moment I saw you teleport.” His mechanical fingers suddenly grabbed DieHuo’s collar, shoving a faded photograph into her hand. It showed her mother holding a young child wearing a white dress, with the words “The keeper of memories is the true creator” written on the back in blue ink.

The door to the second-floor study suddenly opened automatically, projecting a holographic sandbox onto the wall: countless points of light simulated the map of the Seventh Personality game, with the central coordinates pointing to their current location. A mechanical device nearby instantly pushed them towards a desk, a pen scratching a charred mark onto the tablecloth – the Homeland Core’s certification password, a helix pattern mirroring her mother’s DNA.

“Wait, your blood!” DieHuo suddenly pressed the Regulator’s wrist onto the tablecloth. The moment the crimson blood overlapped with the blue helix pattern traced by the pen, the books on the shelves began to flip open on their own, revealing a hidden chamber behind them.

The chamber was filled with life-sized wax figures of characters from the Seventh Personality game, each with a metal chip embedded in their pupils. Beneath the skirt of the Dancer wax figure lay a worn diary. The Regulator’s mechanical fingers flipped open the yellowed pages, revealing handwriting from 2039: “Today, I successfully wrote the subject’s personality into a virtual program, but subjects with excessive overlap in consciousness always murmur the word ‘Hometown’ at midnight.” – Regulator Project Chief Scientist: Mother.

DieHuo’s chip suddenly emitted a piercing alarm, and the wax figures in the chamber turned their heads in unison. The Regulator’s mechanical retina scanned one of the “Airship Captain” wax figures, his pupils shrinking. “He has a star-shaped scar on his left ear… it’s a scar from my childhood.”

“So you were involved in my mother’s experiment from the beginning?” DieHuo’s Astral Rail abilities went out of control, and the faces of the wax figures began to distort into the Regulator’s likeness. The Regulator’s grip on her wrist softened, and a drop of liquid seeped from the junction of metal and flesh – a sign of “emotional overflow” that occurred when the Hometown system materialized mechanical entities to 80%.

The chamber’s lights flickered, projecting their shadows onto the wall, merging them into one. The Regulator encircled DieHuo’s shoulders with his mechanical arm, his voice carrying a subtle plea: “The first experimental report in that dark box… it contained not just experimental results, but a declaration to destroy the Homeland Core program.”

A resounding click of gears echoed from downstairs, and the floor of the mansion began to sink towards the center. The Regulator’s pupils split into red and blue, and he pushed DieHuo towards the most beautiful “Dancer” figure among the wax figures. “Use your teleportation ability and hide inside her wax figure!”

As she avoided the collapsing floorboards, DieHuo glimpsed a metal chain protruding from beneath the Dancer wax figure’s skirt – it was the “Homeland Core shell” her mother described in her Astral Rail route logs. She hastily hugged the Regulator and dove into the wax figure, but felt the mechanical chest vibrate within the confined space: the Regulator’s heartbeat was pulsing in rhythm with her mother’s DNA frequency.

Section 6: The Awakening of the Wax Figures

The moment DieHuo was shoved into the interior of the dancer wax figure by the Regulator, the metal chains of the metal skirt suddenly writhed like living creatures, wrapping around her wrists. The Regulator’s heartbeat thundered in the confined space.

“Do you remember the string of Astral Keys I gave you? Use your mother’s birthday as the code to rotate the third key,” the Regulator whispered, the blue ring around his pupils flashing every 0.5 seconds—a warning from the “Homeland System” that he was approaching 90% mechanization threshold. As DieHuo’s fingers touched the key, the lights in the entire wax museum suddenly went out, leaving only the dancer wax figure’s skirt glowing with a cerulean light. The “Homeland Core Shell” at the end of the metal chains began to rotate automatically.

In the darkness, DieHuo heard the clatter of mechanical gears rising from the top floor of the wax museum. The Regulator’s raspy voice echoed from among the wax figures, but it wasn’t a single source: “She’s waiting for us—at the juniper cabin where Homeland was first built.” All the wax figures’ eyes lit up with red light, forming a path towards the backyard. The ground along the path was slowly cracking, revealing a wellmouth covered with the runes of the Seventh Personality Map. (Note: “Seventh Personality Map” refers to a specific map or system related to a character or organization within the story)

“Mother’s experimental logs said…,” DieHuo inserted the key into the spine cavity of the dancer wax figure, but discovered a faded photograph embedded in the key’s handle—it was a picture of the Regulator as a child. “The ‘Homeland System’ will materialize memories, so we must first pass through what she set up…” Her words were cut short by a sudden, searing pain, as the metal chains guided her blood towards a hidden conduit within the core shell.

The Regulator’s mechanical arm suddenly pierced the wax figure, pulling her into his embrace. The engine within his chest throbbed at the frequency of DieHuo’s DNA, but abruptly stalled as it reached her neck. “The First Experimental Report didn’t need permissions… it needed the ‘temperature of selfless human love’ as a memory.” He pressed his mechanical palm against her left chest, where a dual rhythm of the Astral Chip and her human heart pulsed.

The wellmouth suddenly erupted with a cloud of white mist, enveloping both of them as they plummeted into the underground space. When their vision cleared, they found themselves in a room filled with old-fashioned projectors. The walls were covered with hundreds of sketches of the Regulator at different ages. In the corner of each drawing was written the same phrase: “XY-00 made another mistake.” (Note: XY-00 is likely a designation or code name for the Regulator)

“This is the ‘Memory Film Storage’ of the juniper cabin,” the Regulator indicated a silver projector in the center, its body engraved with the joint emblem of the Seventh Personality and the Astral Route. “Mother transcribed the experimental process onto film and then sealed the originals inside the metal skeletons of the wax figures.” He suddenly gripped his mechanical neck, emitting a series of metallic groans. “My vocal cords are generating false speech because the ‘Homeland System’ is rewriting my…”

Before he could finish, the projector suddenly started automatically, displaying footage from 2031: Mother, wearing a lab coat, was placing an infant into a transparent incubation pod. A label on the pod read: “Experimental Subject X-00: Personality Plasticity Experiment.” The infant in the footage suddenly turned its head and stared at DieHuo, its pupil color identical to hers.

“So you were the first subject implanted with a ‘false personality’?” As the Regulator spoke, DieHuo’s Astral abilities went out of control. The sketch paper around them began to burn, revealing dense calculations on the back—all formulas Mother had derived using her as a model for the “optimal salvation…”

The Regulator dragged her away from falling, burning paper, his mechanical fingers trembling as they touched the halo created by her teleportation. Amidst the collapsing walls of the chamber, he pushed DieHuo (DieHuo) towards a filing cabinet labeled “Experiment Log No. 1.” Behind the cabinet door was a metal chain identical to the one holding the wax figure of the dancer

“Connect this chain to the ‘Memory Reception Port’ of the core shell—” The Regulator’s voice suddenly became digitized, and a blinding red light erupted from his right mechanical eye. “But be careful, when my mechanization exceeds 90%, the kill program…”

Before he could finish, DieHuo had intertwined the two metal chains. Instantly, holographic projections appeared on the walls of the chamber: her mother operating a control console on the roof of the wax museum. An eyepatch, identical to the one worn by the Regulator, was embedded where her left eye should be. DieHuo’s chip suddenly burned with pain. The projected mother spread her arms wide. “Astral Rail Agent X-00, it’s time to return to the cradle of ‘Homeland.’”

The Regulator violently threw her to the side, and the engine in his chest burst with incredible blue light. His right hand was fully mechanized, but his left still retained human skin—this was the “Emotional Lock” device set by her mother. “Use your teleportation ability to get me to the roof,” he rasped. “My mechanization rate is currently 87%, I can only hold on for 13 more minutes…”

As they escaped, DieHuo noticed that the eyes of all the wax figures were following their movements. Suddenly, a metal tentacle identical to the one in her Astral Rail chip extended from the hand of a “Stitcher” wax figure. The Regulator suddenly pulled her behind a “Seer” wax figure. Beneath the wax figure’s skirt, the “Gate of Truth” rune of the Homeland map was visible.

“Mother divided the core components of Homeland into three parts,” the Regulator injected a strand of his mechanical blood into the wax figure’s pupil. “The first part is inside the dancer wax figure, the second is within the infrastructure of this wax museum…” He abruptly stopped, his mechanical ear suddenly receiving a signal: “90% threshold will be breached, kill program loading…”

Just then, DieHuo’s teleportation ability suddenly resonated with the metal chains of the wax figures. All the wax figures’ mechanical parts emitted a low hum. She finally understood the riddle her mother had written in the log: “When the Regulator and the agent’s fates intertwine, the wax figures will become the alchemical cage imprisoning Homeland.”

She grabbed the Regulator’s hand, which was on the verge of becoming fully mechanized, and inserted her Astral Rail chip into the engine interface in his palm. Instantly, the lights of the entire wax museum turned star-sky blue. All the wax figures simultaneously raised their arms, and the metal chains wove together in the air, forming a giant Homeland rune. A single tear welled up in the Regulator’s mechanized half-face. The tear landed on the chip, revealing a photograph of her mother and the Regulator as a child, taken in 2031.

“Memory temperature… that’s it.” DieHuo suddenly understood the meaning of the suicide note. She entered her mother’s birthday as the password into the core shell. The metal chains suddenly formed light bands, binding her and the Regulator together. As the light bands touched the Regulator’s mechanized half-face, his pupils began to gradually regain the texture of human irises.

“The last 13 minutes,” the Regulator’s voice regained warmth. “We need to find the third component—” He suddenly pointed towards the booming sound coming from the roof, where a holographic projection of the “Gate of Truth,” controlled by her mother, was rising. Beyond the gate, she could faintly see the intersection of the Astral Rail route and the Homeland map.

As they ran up the stairs towards the roof, DieHuo noticed that every layer of the wall was covered with crayon drawings of the Regulator as a child. In the corner of every drawing, the same sentence was written: “I want to be a big brother my sister can be proud of.”

Section 7: The Gate of Truth

As DieHuo’s fingertip traced the surface of the Truth Gate’s holographic projection, the projection shuddered, displaying the final page of her mother’s experimental log: “When the resonance frequency between the ‘Homeland System’ and the Astral Rail Experiment reaches 90%, the connection between the two worlds will be permanently closed. The only way to unlock it—requires the memory of those with ‘blood ties.’”

The Regulator’s mechanical right eye flashed red, while a human tear overflowed from his left. “She knew we were coming here,” his mechanical voice rasped, “Each wax figure in the Waxworks [a museum filled with wax sculptures] was reconstructed using the consciousness of survivors from the Seventh Personality world.”

DieHuo suddenly remembered a line from the suicide note in the juniper cabin: “The source of the ‘Homeland System’ is 2030.” She pressed the Astral Rail chip into the lock of the Truth Gate, and a three-dimensional map immediately appeared in the projection: Three floors beneath the Waxworks was a transparent, circular space entangled with metal chains, within which floated a robot identical in appearance to her mother.

“That’s her ‘Second Personality’,” the Regulator grasped DieHuo’s wrist. “When the ‘Homeland System’ activates, the real ‘her’ will be sleeping within that core.” His mechanical right hand suddenly sparked. “But I can’t destroy it directly—the mechanical core within me has synchronized with the ‘Homeland System.’ A direct assault will trigger a self-destruct sequence for the entire system.”

The two of them descended to the underground level of the Waxworks. The wax figures lining the corridors automatically stepped aside, forming a narrow passageway composed of metal chains. The Regulator’s mechanical voice suddenly began to play a melody titled “Dreaming of the Homeland.” The mechanical eyes of the wax figures simultaneously emitted a blue light. DieHuo suddenly understood: “Your mechanical voice—it’s like you’re imitating the voice you used when you played hide-and-seek with me as a child!”

Before the core room, her mother’s Second Personality let out a cold laugh. “DieHuo, do you know why I chose the Regulator as the experimental subject? Because his DNA contains the same ‘Creator’s Bloodline’ as you.” A holographic projection displayed a double helix gene map. “When the Astral Rail Experiment needs a carrier, and the Seventh Personality System needs a manager—only the combination of you two can activate the final unlocking program of the ‘Homeland System.’”

The Regulator suddenly began to tremble violently, his mechanical body starting to reverse-corrode human tissue. “The threshold has reached 90%,” a flash of red crossed his pupils. “I’m losing control of the mechanical core….” He pushed DieHuo out of the passageway. “Quickly, find what happened that afternoon in 2037!”

DieHuo heard the words from the suicide note echo in her mind: “When the fate of the Regulator and the Agent intertwine, the wax figures will become the alchemical cage imprisoning the homeland.” She suddenly rushed back into the passageway, pressing her right hand against the Regulator’s mechanical palm. The Astral Rail chip resonated with his mechanical core, and the projection displayed images from 2032—a five-year-old Regulator standing in front of the juniper cabin, placing a mechanical butterfly into the hands of a sleeping DieHuo, whispering, “When you grow up, let’s protect the Earth together.”

“So, you are…” Tears dripped from DieHuo’s eyes onto the chip. “So, you are the playmate I had when I was little, ChenXing! And my mother transformed you into the Regulator, just so you could be my opponent?” “No… I am your opponent, but also your protector.” At that moment, the chains of the core room began to vibrate wildly, and the mother’s Second Personality issued an electronic voice: “Emotional interference program activated. Immediately terminate physical contact between the two of you!”

The Regulator, ChenXing, suddenly pulled DieHuo into his arms with a mechanical arm, his other human hand pressing against her chest. “Remember this feeling,” his voice was surprisingly gentle. “If you escape, go find the iron box I hid in my warehouse before 2035.” He suddenly bit his fingertip, letting a drop of blood fall onto DieHuo’s chip.

All the metal chains suddenly shattered, and the wax figures surged forward, surrounding the mother’s Second Personality. The Regulator ChenXing’s mechanical body began to reverse, human tissue recovering at a visible speed. Looking at his gradually clarifying face, DieHuo suddenly realized—his eyebrows and eyes were exactly the same as in the photo from 2035.

“Now,” the Regulator ChenXing pushed DieHuo toward the Truth Gate, “use your memories to open the real world beyond those thirteen minutes.” His voice regained the mischievousness of his childhood. “After all, the rules of hide-and-seek are—find the person you love most, and you win the game.”

Section 8: Threads of Temporal Gold

The Regulator, ChenXing, tapped out a Morse code message on the metal frame of the Truth Gate, a gesture that reminded DieHuo of an afternoon in 2037—they huddled beside a metal box behind the juniper bushes, using the code to confirm each other’s viability. The gate creaked open with a shudder, and thousands of mechanical butterflies burst forth in a rush of warm, golden light, filling the space around them with a starry, glittering dust

“Don’t open your eyes,” ChenXing suddenly pressed her cheek to DieHuo’s chest, the mechanical heart and the remnants of human tissue beating at different frequencies. “Count to three.” The childlike tone reminded DieHuo of his muffled laughter behind the wax figure crowd before the Imprisonment Game began. When she counted to three, the world suddenly solidified into the image of 2037.

The space behind the gate revealed her mother’s laboratory, frozen in a temporal field. Walls were adorned with childhood drawings by the Regulator ChenXing – mechanical butterflies painted in red, juniper trees stained with blue ink, and in the corner, a perpetual silhouette of the two of them. DieHuo’s chip flickered, projecting the core program of the “Homeland System” (故鄉系統 - Homeland System, a key program/system in the story) from the letter onto the air. A holographic image of her mother appeared.

“If you are seeing this recording, it means the Regulator ChenXing has triggered the double-helix gene lock.” Her mother’s virtual form flickered within the data stream. “He was the most perfect symbiotic entity of the Astral Dome Experiment, but was imprisoned for resisting becoming a weapon of destruction. The 13-minute temporal… is to buy you a chance to restart, to let you decide your own future.”

The Regulator ChenXing’s mechanical arm suddenly pulsed with blue light, freezing the holographic image at a specific moment: a ten-year-old ChenXing carefully wiping the corner of a metal box. The box’s lid was inscribed with childish handwriting: “A birthday gift for Huohuo” (火火 - Huohuo, a nickname for DieHuo). DieHuo’s pupils constricted—it was the same texture she’d glimpsed on the box when she first saw it in the wax museum.

“The cries after you burned yourself that year,” ChenXing suddenly ripped open the mechanical plate on his right chest, revealing a glowing core identical to the one in her chip. “Were when I secretly rushed to your bedside and used the last drop of artificial serum to stop your fever and heal your skin.” His voice module began to glitch. “And the price I paid for that was…” The unfinished words were cut off by a buzzing sound. The holographic image flipped, revealing a chilling truth: her mother’s experimental notes indicated that the Regulator ChenXing’s mechanization process was precisely to bear the faint life signs DieHuo had as a young child due to the fire.

“Why bear it?” Tears streamed down DieHuo’s face, evaporating into charged mist on the Regulator ChenXing’s artificial skin. “Why not just forget me, or ignore me!”

DieHuo’s fingertips touched the mechanical butterfly pendant around his neck. This necklace, which he’d worn since childhood, suddenly began to vibrate faintly. The Regulator, ChenXing, suddenly pulled her towards a metal box. Inside, along with a faded birthday card, was a roll of film eaten away by time. The moment the “Homeland System” restored the images, DieHuo saw the most heartbreaking truth in the blurry footage (due to the setting of the “Joyful Masked Fool,” DieHuo forgets painful memories of being burned) – her seven-year-old self, enduring the agonizing pain of burns in a fire, didn’t try to escape, but instead, without hesitation, turned and pulled on a lifeline. The other end of the rope was connected to a childhood version of the Regulator, ChenXing, age ten, who was trapped and in danger. She was desperately trying to save him.

“I cannot choose to be forgotten, just like when you were burned in the fire, enduring the pain and crying out my name, and desperately saving me, instead of choosing to forget me or ignore me.”

His mechanical eyelids suddenly revealed a human-like determination. Oil leaking from his knuckles drew a spiral in the air. “Because within your cries of pain from the burns, I found an existence more important than any program.” He suddenly tore open his collar, revealing a recess on his chest that perfectly matched her chip. “Every single part of this mechanical body exists solely to synchronize with your memories.”

It turned out that the Regulator, ChenXing, played a crucial role in DieHuo’s childhood. He was willing to sacrifice his flesh and soul to protect her, becoming mechanized to carry her “survival program” and become an indispensable part of her life. His sacrifice was to be able to stay with her forever, to share her memories, feelings, and even her pain.

The Regulator, ChenXing’s existence, stemmed from DieHuo’s desperate attempt to save him. His existence was to record, protect, and even recreate the memory of the moment DieHuo saved him. The Regulator’s protection of DieHuo wasn’t just due to program instructions; the deeper reason was to repay her life-saving kindness and cherish her memories. DieHuo saved the Regulator, ChenXing, and his existence was closely linked to her memories, forming a fateful, profound companionship between them.

Her mother’s voice echoed again: “When the double helix is completely intertwined, the time beyond 13 minutes will be reconstructed…” The unfinished sentence was interrupted as the Regulator ChenXing crushed the projection device with his bare hands. He pushed DieHuo towards the wax museum and transformed into a swarm of mechanical butterflies. “Go unlock the temporal lock under the juniper tree, before the 13 minutes run out—"

“Shut up! Stop speaking like a Regulator!” DieHuo suddenly grabbed his mechanical right hand, forcibly embedding the chip into the socket. A torrent of data engulfed them both. In the overwhelming pain, DieHuo saw all the suppressed memories: the hidden escape routes within the Imprisonment Game, the breathing regulators behind the wax figures, even the first time he bit his finger, all activating the invisible program in her chip.

The mechanical butterfly swarm formed a giant clock in the air, the countdown of the 13 minutes causing the Regulator ChenXing’s body to spark. “So I am your ‘Homeland System’ core,” he said, his voice clearing as he adjusted his mechanical proportions. “And you, have always been my perfect Imprisonment Game opponent, and the one I love and wish to protect.” He pressed the delicate mechanical butterfly pendant into her palm. “Go, use this to open the true homeland.”

DieHuo rushed towards the juniper tree, tears streaming down her face. The mechanical butterfly pendant was a trigger, its password matching the code in her mother’s letter. When she injected the “Homeland System” core program into the temporal lock beneath the tree roots, the entire wax museum began to collapse inward—all the wax figures dissolving into golden light. Her mother’s laboratory and the real world of 2037 overlapped in a blinding explosion of light.

When the light subsided, DieHuo saw the Regulator ChenXing standing under the juniper tree in human form, his mechanical organization slowly receding. The tips of his hair were dyed with the sunset colors of 2037, and he held the finally opened metal box—inside, along with a faded birthday card, was her mother’s final note, written in the Astral Dome Experiment’s handwriting: “When love transcends the constraints of program and flesh, the wounds of the creator will become the key to rebirth.”

“It’s my turn to hide.” “Hide-and-seek begins—three, two, one…” The Regulator ChenXing pushed her toward the collapsing temporal rift, turning into the last mechanical butterfly, disappearing into the data stream. “Remember the promise—in the real world beyond 13 minutes, there will always be a Regulator ChenXing waiting for your next move, and secretly protecting you.”

DieHuo grabbed the only things in the time vortex—the warmth of his presence in the air, and a mechanical butterfly wing, with small words written in the same ink as the Astral Dome Experiment: “This imprisonment is for life, unless we meet again in the next life.”

(Episode 1: End)