"You really are reckless. Your file didn't lie; it's a miracle you've lived this long."
Chiaki stood with her hands on her hips, her composure regained, watching with a deep frown as Lin received stitches.
The shot had passed through his waist without hitting his internal organs—a stroke of luck. It only required disinfection and closure.
"The bullets?" Lin nodded to the nurse who finished bandaging him and turned to Chiaki.
"Found them all, including the one that hit you. I'm not familiar with guns, but as far as I can tell, these bullets are identical."
Chiaki was right. Looking at the casings she brought back, including the five that had been deflected, Lin recognized the caliber instantly.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"What's wrong? Isn't it normal for bullets to be the same? All soldiers use the same gear, don't they?" Chiaki asked, noticing Lin heavy mood.
"...Standard-issue sidearms for soldiers today don't use physical rounds anymore." Lin pulled out his own worn, paint-chipped handgun and thudded it onto the table. "And handguns using this specific caliber were phased out long ago."
"What does that mean?"
"..."
The attacker wanted to frame him.
The opponent was someone very familiar with Lin—someone who knew he still used this specific handgun.
"Fine, keep your secrets then." Chiaki noticed Lin silence and pouted, turning away.
Looking on the bright side, there was now a clue. The mastermind was someone close to him, or at least someone connected. The list of suspects had narrowed.
But Lin couldn't feel happy at all.
"Also, I checked the surveillance again afterward. The footage of our attack was still interfered with. Same method. It's too strange. If Prometheus No. 2 didn't do it personally, how could the feed be jammed that quickly?"
Furthermore, the power to the hub was cut and restored exactly when the attacker left. Everything pointed to the fact that the attacker could manipulate the headquarters' systems at will.
"...Let's go."
"Hey, wait! Aren't you going to rest?"
...
Chiaki's expression shifted between sunlight and shadow. She found Lin harder and harder to read.
Lin words were often half-truths. As a social engineering expert, even if she couldn't tell which of his words were sincere, she could guess when he wasn't being entirely honest.
The same applied to her.
A person becomes someone else when they put on a mask, and by wearing different masks, they can become different people.
But Lin instinctive act of shielding her... honestly, Chiaki thought...
It was stupid.
This wasn't some "tsundere" trope. The only word Chiaki could think of to describe Lin was "foolish."
A rational man doing something so emotional—it proved how little sense he had.
There was no point in asking why he did it now.
"Do you have a lead?"
Lin stopped in his tracks at that question. He scanned the surroundings before pulling Chiaki into a side room.
Unknowingly, they had reached the hallway outside Lin room.
"I need you to do me a favor." Lin pinned her against the wall somewhat roughly, speaking in an unquestionable tone.
"Ha? What are you talking about? I am helping you right now." Chiaki winced in pain internally but maintained a fake smile.
Who wants to help you, idiot?
In her eyes, everyone in Fire Moth was neurotic, and Lin was the most eccentric of them all—a severe mental patient who should be under 24-hour observation in a high-security ward.
From the start, she had only come to Fire Moth to find some fun, to see what kind of "idiots" claimed to protect humanity. As expected, it was a social club for extremists and trauma victims.
She stood on high ground, mocking them in her heart while watching their farce. As she said before, "conspicuous ordinariness" was the best way to hide one's true purpose.
She didn't care what happened to humanity. Suicide or survival meant nothing to her. "Wanting to protect humanity" was her first layer of wrapping—a disguise easily seen through.
"Fearing I'll become a mass murderer" was the second layer. Chiaki didn't actually care if she ended up killing everyone at headquarters.
She just wanted to play a "role," and Fire Moth was the perfect stage. It was a place away from reality where everyone moved in eerie patterns like clockwork toys—illusory, ethereal, and frantic.
Names, identities, and stances were all irrelevant.
Whether the person "Chiaki" was good or bad, normal or weird... what did it matter? Even her name was a lie.
"I want you to test Kevin."
"..."
Chiaki picked at her ear. She was sure she hadn't misheard. Lin really wanted her to test Kevin.
"Wait, let me calm down." Chiaki signaled Lin to stop. She held her head, her brain stalling for a few seconds before she shot Lin a subtle look. "Are you suspecting Kevin?"
Lin was blunt: "Yes."
"...Wait, how could you suspect Kevin?"
"Because all the clues so far point to him."
Lin even suspected MEI was Kevin's accomplice.
Capable of killing everyone at headquarters, capable of manipulating the systems, and having a consciousness potentially corrupted—Kevin fit all three criteria. His strength was unquestioned; manipulating the system could be done through MEI via Prometheus No. 2; and the corrupted consciousness...
The side effect of the MANTIS surgery.
The surgery involved fusing Honkai Beast genes into a human body. Anything was possible. The chance of turning into a monster was over 90%. Even if Kevin succeeded, there was no guarantee he wouldn't mutate later.
Furthermore, Kevin was one of the people who knew him best.
"If he wanted to kill me just now, you wouldn't have been able to stop him," Chiaki pointed out.
"Disguise. Framing."
Last time, Lin had seen the bodies of Kevin and MEI and assumed they weren't suspects. But Vil-V had already overturned that assumption. His final memories were blurred. Just as the chance of Chiaki being the killer was small, were the Kevin and MEI of that time truly dead?
With a MANTIS's vitality and Kevin's strength, could they really be taken down so easily?
"Are you... planning to suspect your friend?"
Chiaki lowered her voice, questioning him.
"Yes."
Lin replied coldly, sounding entirely emotionless.
A cold-blooded puppet who could neither cry nor laugh was a wise choice for investigating the dead.