Hualing crashed through the forest undergrowth, her urgent steps carrying her deeper into the wilderness. Branches snagged at her dress as she moved, until one particularly stubborn one caught the fabric. She yanked at it violently, the expensive material tearing with a sharp rip that seemed to echo through the trees.
"Dammit! Nothing is going right for me," she thought, fingers fumbling uselessly with the ruined cloth. The tear was beyond simple repair, and the realization only fueled her mounting frustration.
Suddenly, her body stiffened. When her mouth opened, the voice that emerged wasn't quite her own – it carried an edge of possession. "That dress was given to me by the young master when I became his personal maid," the foreign voice declared through her lips.
Hualing clutched her head, pain lancing through her skull as she fought for control. "Would you just shut up! I'm trying to save us here!" she snarled, struggling against the original owner's attempts. That's right, she was actually the one doing the possession, and it looked like it was working too. Until it wasn't…
The internal battle raged until her muscles locked completely, leaving her frozen in place. The world around the two fighting for dominance faded as they found themselves pulled into the mental realm.
The original Hualing found herself in a dark chamber where she hung suspended by ethereal chains. Before her sat a figure on an obsidian throne, a mirror image of herself but slightly older, regarding her with unconcealed disdain. She had been the one controlling her body ever since she entered the dungeon.
She thought to herself that this split personality of her's was delusional, believing she was from the future. That's why she always locked her inside the mental realm. But she had somehow managed to escape, even managing to turn the situation around. Hualing guessed that she probably took advantage of when she was disoriented after the spatial transfer.
"Just give up the body and I can save both of us," the older looking Hualing spoke, her tone dripping with condescension. Her thoughts churned with frustration. She'd explained the situation to her younger self countless times, yet this unreasonable version of herself refused to listen to reason.
"Tch! I should've just taken the Spirit King's offer," she thought bitterly. Her attempt to regress with only her own power had backfired spectacularly, resulting in two versions of herself trapped in the same body. And she wasn't even the dominant one.
"How about you let me go first and I'll think about it?" the original Hualing suggested with false sweetness.
"Do you think I'm stupid!" The older one slammed her fist against the throne's armrest, her composure cracking.
"Do you also think I'm stupid?" came the swift retort.
The older version drew a deep breath, visibly struggling to control her rage. When she spoke again, her voice had softened to something approaching pleading. "Could you please give me the body for just one day? I really don't have any bad intentions."
"Hmph! Says the one who's got me tied up," the younger one scoffed.
"Well... that's..." Before she could fabricate an excuse, a familiar voice cut through their shared consciousness like a blade:
[...Hualing...I]
The telepathic message cut off abruptly, leaving both versions in stunned silence. The original Hualing's expression darkened ominously.
"Wait! Don't do anything stupid..." The older version rose in alarm, but it was already too late. The chains binding the original Hualing began to crack, supernatural fractures spreading across their links until they shattered completely.
Released from her bonds, the original Hualing didn't even spare her counterpart a glance as she strode past. Massive chains, even larger than those that had bound her, materialized from the darkness and began coiling around the older version.
"Wait! Don't do this!" the older one screamed, desperation evident in her voice. "I know how—" The chains tightened, cutting off her words until she managed to gasp out, "—I know how to save him!"
The original Hualing froze, and with her, the encroaching chains.
"He used a telepathy skill," the older one pressed her advantage quickly. "Do you know how to track it? How are you going to save him?" Noting her counterpart's downcast expression, she pushed harder. "He's probably being attacked right now. With how weak he is, how long do you think he'll last?"
Hualing remained silent, her face a mask of internal conflict.
"Just give me the body and I'll save him. You like him, don't you? I'll save him – all you have to do is give up the body. Small price, right?"
"No!" The response was immediate and firm.
"What? You don't care about him anymore? Hmph, I guess that's all your love is worth," the older one sneered.
"No," Hualing's voice was steel. "I won't give you the body. You'll just tell me where he is."
"And why would I tell you? What's in it for me?" the older one scoffed. But her expression soon shifted to horror as she realized what was happening in the physical world. "No! What are you doing?"
In the physical realm, Hualing's body stood perfectly still, a knife pressed against her own throat. A maniacal smile spread across her face as she spoke, "Just like the young master, I hate people who try to take advantage of me."
The blade began to move in a slitting gesture…
…
Marcus trudged through the forest, a satisfied smile playing across his features as he carried two freshly caught hares. The successful hunt had lifted his spirits – these would provide sustenance for tonight and tomorrow morning before he needed to venture out again. The weight of the game felt reassuring in his hands, a tangible reminder that this time would be different than the last…
His contented musings were interrupted by an unusual sound – barely audible, like the gentle buzz of a solitary bee. Despite its faintness, the sound caught his attention with surprising clarity. He turned in place, scanning his surroundings, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just as he was about to dismiss it as imagination, a sharp sting pierced his ear.
Whirling around, he found himself face-to-face with a diminutive creature hovering at eye level. It was humanoid in form, with transparent wings that caught the filtered sunlight, its entire body no larger than a common housefly.
"A spirit?" he breathed, amazement coloring his voice. Spirits were rare beings, naturally born from the world's source itself. While most were benign creatures that served as nature's guardians, some possessed immense power – like the Spirit King who had granted Marcus his chance at regression. The memory stirred questions in his mind. Had this spirit somehow sensed his connection to their king?
Looking more closely at the tiny being, he noted its seemingly limited intelligence as it merely buzzed and made high-pitched sounds rather than speaking. The observation earned him another sharp sting to his ear, this one more painful than the first. Before he could protest, the spirit darted away, then paused mid-flight, turning back as if waiting.
"You want me to follow you?" Marcus asked, understanding dawning. The spirit's only response was to continue its flight, clearly expecting him to follow.
As they traveled deeper into the forest, Marcus's mind raced with possibilities. The presence of a spirit in this testing ground was highly unusual – spirits typically avoided dungeons, viewing them as violations of natural order. Perhaps it sought help for an injured companion who had entered by mistake? Or maybe it wanted to show him some hidden treasure? Each theory seemed more fantastical than the last.
His speculations halted abruptly as they reached their destination. The tiny spirit flew toward what appeared to be another spirit, this one significantly larger – about the size of Marcus's palm. While still small by human standards, for a spirit, this size was practically a giant. Though size didn't directly translate to strength.
To his surprise, the smaller spirit merged seamlessly with the larger one. Marcus assumed this must be the main body, but before he could approach, the newly merged spirit darted behind a tree. He took a step forward, thinking it merely shy, but the spirit vanished completely, leaving him bewildered. Why lead him here only to disappear?
It was then that he noticed he wasn't alone. Lying on the ground was a figure he recognized – Ambrose Rothschild, apparently sound asleep. Marcus approached slowly, his expression shifting into something predatory as he drew closer. The sleeping figure's delicate features and pure white hair created an almost ethereal image in the dappled forest light.
"S-so pretty, and defenseless," he whispered, his voice taking on an unsettling quality. His hand reached out toward the unconscious form, trembling slightly with anticipation. "I want it!"
A/N - Alr dude wtf