MMPS Ch. 21

Chapter 21: Make-Up Lessons

“An intern evaluation meeting?” Yu An muttered as he clutched his backpack, two small hands poking out of the zipper to sneak a peek at the rough-looking youth passing by.

The man’s arms were inked with flaming tattoos, an impression of fiery intensity radiating from him. He seemed to distort the very air around him, as though his presence itself heated the atmosphere. White sneakers, their soles glowing like searing iron, left melting imprints on the ground, tiny flames licking at his trail.

There was no doubt—his basketball jersey, sneakers, and the pitch-black hooded jacket were special outfits. And with that kind of gear, he was most likely a body capable of embedding cores.

Yu An frowned slightly: “Hope he’s not competition… He looks pretty strong,” he murmured to himself.

From within his backpack came a muffled protest. “Could you stop using me as a book pad? And quit shoving random junk in here!”

Distracted, Yu An glanced down. The voice came from the bottom layer of his bag, sharp and distinctly annoyed.

“Oh, Miss Bo.” He pulled out a folded cardboard standee of a glamorous woman and shook it open. “Sorry, I forgot about you. Don’t worry; we’re just staking out Eagle Bureau. Once we hand you over to the police, you’ll be fine.”

Miss Bo’s perfectly printed face twisted into panic, her voice dropping to a desperate whisper: “No! Please, I didn’t do anything wrong. They locked me up in the Xiliu Beauty Salon! If I didn’t follow their orders, they threatened to abandon me in that desolate pedestrian street forever!”

Yu An raised an eyebrow: “Who’s ‘they’?”

“I’ll tell you when we’re out of here.”

He shrugged. Not like I care that much anyway. 

With that, he folded her back into the bag and zipped it shut.

*

The clack of heels echoed from the corridor’s end. Officer Ye appeared, her brisk steps stirring a faint chill in the air. Spotting Yu An, she gave a brief nod and gestured for him to follow her into her office. Officer Timon handed him a glass of water as he sat down.

“Thank you for last night.” Officer Ye said. Her expression softened, though most of it was hidden beneath her black mask. “Thanks to you, Mr. Zhou is out of danger and recovering in a regular ward.”

“Mm.” Yu An stared at his toes, uninterested.

“During the rescue, Mr. Zhou regained consciousness several times. He insisted he wanted to see you.”

“See me? No thanks. I don’t need any gratitude.”

Officer Ye slid a card across the desk: “This is the address. Once his condition stabilizes, you can decide if you want to visit.”

“…” Yu An groaned inwardly at the inconvenience but pocketed the card.

“I have some questions.” His tone shifted, his gaze rising slightly. “Did you catch Bao Si from the Xiliu Beauty Salon?”

The nurse Bao Si, who went missing at the Guxian County hospital, was suspected of colluding with security to smuggle patients and had been unaccounted for.

Officer Ye’s brow lifted: “How did you know about her?”

“I saw a dismembered finger in the sterile tray held by Room 701’s consultant.” Yu An said matter-of-factly, slouching in the chair and idly swinging his feet. “Based on the clinic’s organ-for-beauty model, I’d bet the client in Room 702 is missing a finger. Didn’t the nurse who disappeared from the Guxian County Hospital lose part of a finger to a goat-headed Aberrant?”

Officer Ye nodded as she clasped her hands on the table: “Correct. It was her. She’s in the interrogation room now, but her actions don’t meet the threshold for criminal charges. She’ll be released soon.”

Yu An leaned back, thoughtful: “The Xiliu Beauty Salon demands payment in organs within seven days. Clients who miss the deadline are forced into abductions, targeting obese victims. That nurse must’ve had a prior procedure at the clinic, couldn’t pay up, and was coerced into kidnapping Mr. Zhou. I suspect she’s involved in larger crimes and changed her face at the clinic to avoid detection. It’s worth looking into other cases this month for leads.”

Officer Ye’s expression turned contemplative: “You’d make a good investigator. I’m already pursuing this angle.”

“By the way, we analyzed the green capsules you found at the clinic.” She retrieved a sealed bag containing a fluorescent green pill. “The substance inside was sourced from the ruins of a Hongli cultivation base. Ingesting it causes severe mutations. The same capsules were found in the digestive tract of the goat-headed creature that attacked the hospital. This wasn’t a random incident—it was deliberate poisoning. We’re investigating it as a separate case.”

Yu An barely listened, his attention drifting out the window. Nonessential details didn’t concern him; they were like background noise in a boring lecture.

“That’s all for now. Thank you for the Underground Metro’s help. The goat-headed creature’s body has been examined. Here, this is yours.” Officer Ye slid a cobalt-blue core across the table—the confiscated Tier 2 Blue Goat Horn from the Guxian County Hospital.

Yu An suddenly came to his senses and snatched it up with zero hesitation, stashing it carefully in his pocket. He waited nervously for Officer Ye to mention the Tier 3 Blue Eagle Wing he’d taken.

To his relief, she said nothing about it. Clearly, she wasn’t planning to settle that score.

It seemed he had judged others with his own petty mindset. Relieved, Yu An decided to press his luck. “Oh, I also have another suspect for you—Miss Bo Ruzhi, the one who caused chaos on the Jiu’an pedestrian street. Here, take her.”

He unzipped his bag, pulled out Miss Bo, and shook the standee until it unfolded completely: “This is her. She claims she’s not the mastermind, just a pawn.”

The cardboard figure struck a coquettish pose, frozen in a plastic smile.

…

Officer Timon snickered awkwardly. “A… poster?”

“She’s not—” Yu An began, shaking her again. “Come on, don’t play dead!”

…

Officer Ye sat silently, her hands clasped on the desk, her face impassive. “…”

“Uh…” Yu An tried to explain further, but Officer Ye firmly sent him on his way.

Exiting the Perceptive Eagle Bureau through a side door, Yu An unfolded Miss Bo and squinted as he scrutinized her. She let out a sharp, high-pitched laugh and threw him a smug, flirtatious glance.

*

Officer Timon returned to Officer Ye’s office, leaning on the desk: “Was he joking? Yu An doesn’t strike me as the type.”

“He wasn’t lying.” Officer Ye replied, tidying her files. “That really was Miss Bo. We’ll need to use her as bait to catch the bigger fish behind her.”

“Bait?” Timon muttered. “I don’t even know how to fish.”

“Forget about that, what did your report say?” Officer Ye threw two handwritten papers onto the table, the crooked Chinese characters jumbled together—

Report.

Dear Captain, this time I made a mistake. I think maybe a lot things. I very regret, not only very angry for my behavior, but also deep understand serious my mistake. I only care safety my leader, but I ignore follow orders is very important. Hope Capiain Ye come detention room pick me. Demon.

Officer Ye rubbed her temples and sighed. Across the desk, Timon was beaming like an eager golden retriever, awaiting praise.

*

At the subway station, Yu An checked his phone. A message from his boss awaited:

Boss: “Come to my place tonight. We’ll do make-up lessons.”

It was Friday. Tomorrow was the weekend. Why cram now?

Yu An: [Link]: By law, workers are entitled to…

Boss: Stop arguing. Get here, now.

With a scoff, Yu An powered down his phone and stepped into the subway station. After spending a night at the Xiliu Beauty Salon, he could finally exchange a spent core for another diary entry. His curiosity about those unremembered stories was insatiable.

He leapt onto a metal stair rail, ready to slide down—only to be yanked back by the collar.

Zhao Ran stood at the staircase, holding a black parasol in one hand and gripping Yu An’s shirt in the other. Without a word, he turned and dragged the boy away from the station.

*

Yu An was unceremoniously hauled back to a villa.

“You can’t force me to work overtime.” Yu An protested, squirming in Zhao Ran’s iron grip. With enough struggling, he was able to break free from Zhao Ran’s arms, stepping a few steps into the foyer. “That wasn’t in the contract!”

“You certainly read the fine print.” Zhao Ran retorted, pinning him to the wall. “You’re bold, parading around a mall in broad daylight. Underground Metro agents risk their lives daily, and you’re out here like it’s a holiday. Do you know how easy it would be to get snatched and gutted?”

 “I never showed my face.” Yu An said, his voice taut with frustration. “I always wear a solid black hood while working. No one can see me.” He strained against the grip that held him firm, his body twisting in vain. “I came here to work, not to sell myself to you. What right do you have to detain me—”

Zhao Ran knew he was overstepping, abusing his authority. The realization whispered in the back of his mind, but the irritation refused to dissipate. Why did Yu An’s indifferent, defiant attitude needle him so deeply? If Yu An continued to drift through his work without care, Zhao Ran’s meticulously laid plans would crumble.

A sharp rip interrupted his thoughts. The zipper on Yu An’s hood had come undone, releasing a peculiar, soft sound: “Meow~.”

The tailored jacket, crafted with zippers along the back for winged cores, slipped off Yu An’s shoulders. Beneath, a sleeveless black T-shirt clung to his frame, revealing lean arms that lacked the hardened build of rigorous training. Instead, their soft, natural lines radiated a vibrant, unassuming beauty.

Yu An turned his head sharply, glaring with a ferocity that seemed ready to bite.

Zhao Ran held the expression for a moment, then failed to suppress a laugh: “Your zipper—”

“Hmph.” Yu An grumbled, jerking the zipper shut. The defiant piece of hardware emitted another soft meow.

Face darkening, Yu An kicked off his shoes and stormed down the hallway, leaving Zhao Ran standing there. Without shedding his jacket, he threw himself onto Zhao Ran’s bed, slamming his weathered backpack beside him. He buried his face into the pillow and fell silent.

Perhaps this was the unspoken reality for every working soul: not yet battered by the cruelty of the world, but already defeated by their interviewers.

When Zhao Ran returned with a glass of juice, he paused at the door. Through the narrow gap, he could see the Kao Pu and Li Pu. One was ruffling Yu An’s hair, while the other rubbed comforting circles on his back, as though trying to atone for sins they hadn’t committed.

“Ahem.” Zhao Ran coughed. The pair froze, then darted into the shadows, vanishing.

Zhao Ran placed the glass on the bedside table and sat at the edge of the bed: “This year’s internship assessment will be more complicated than usual. If I don’t prepare you now, you’ll struggle.”

Yu An sat up slowly, clutching a pillow to his chest. His chin rested lazily on its edge: “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

“There’s a lot to cover. You should grab some paper and a pen.”

“I’ll remember it.” Yu An replied, his eyelids drooping with disinterest. “I never took notes in class.”

Zhao Ran sighed but started explaining anyway: “The assessment has three parts: a written test, a skill test, and a rescue simulation. It evaluates your professional abilities. Let’s start with the written test.”

Pausing, he asked: “Do you have any questions about your current work?”

Yu An considered this for a moment: “Hmm…Yeah. On the Core Analyzer, what does ‘Resonance Requirement’ mean? Every core has one, but they’re all listed as unknown.”

Zhao Ran nodded. “Resonance Requirement are specific triggers that allow a core you’ve used to resonate with you. It’s unpredictable; no one knows the conditions until resonance occurs. Sometimes, a seemingly random action—like saying the right phrase—can activate it.” Zhao Ran patiently explained. The concept wasn’t easy to articulate, and he was still pondering how to make it clearer for Yu An when Yu An suddenly nodded in realization.

Yu An’s eyes lit up with understanding: “Like unlocking an achievement in a game with an accidental move.”

Zhao Ran blinked, caught off guard by the analogy. His quick grasp was impressive: “Exactly. Once resonance happens, the core will gain an additional ability.”

“Got it. But another thing—there’s a silver-tier core in the analyzer called the Illusion Chamber Core. What’s that?”

“I’ve explained to you what an Illusion Chamber is before,” Zhao Ran began again. “In spaces where aberrant entities have devoured humans, there’s a chance that an Illusion Chamber will form. Once you unravel it, the space will naturally produce a core, known as the Illusion Chamber Core-xxx. This core is the true heart of the chamber, the force that sustains its operation.”

He paused, letting his words settle in, watching closely for Yu An’s reaction: “There are three types of aberrant cores: the Common type, the Illusion type, and the Mutated type. Most Aberrant Cores are Common—simple objects from the world you know, like goats or mosquitoes. Things within your realm of comprehension.”

“The Illusion type is different. It’s a core that forms within an Illusion Chamber It doesn’t necessarily grow inside any living being, it can appear out of thin air within the chamber itself.”

“Then there’s the Mutated type. It’s the most straightforward. Any core formed by a creature or object that lies beyond the bounds of human understanding—that is considered a Mutated type.”

Yu An, whose attention had been drifting, now leaned forward with interest: “Have you ever seen one of the Mutated types, Interviewer?”

Zhao Ran didn’t hesitate: “Of course, I have.” He took a slow sip from his juice, his expression impassive. “It was a creature… a grotesque mass, covered in eyes. It was like a clam, hiding inside a shell, disguising itself as a scallop. But the eyes—each blink was like a silent, sinister promise, each one accompanied by the soft, unsettling sound of bubbles popping. When it opened its shell, you could see what it had inside: a skull, tucked within. It was the skull of its ex-boyfriend.”

Yu An’s brow furrowed in confusion: “Wasn’t the scallop considered as a Common type?”

“No.” Zhao Ran shook his head slightly, a trace of a smile curling at the corners of his lips. “The true core was the creature within, the mass of eyes and flesh. The shell—it was simply a façade, a disguise.”

Yu An’s confusion deepened, but his curiosity seemed only to grow. “Why did it eat its ex?”

Zhao Ran’s smile widened, though there was something cold about it. “The Mutated type has a special power. Anyone who swears an oath in its presence… they must keep it. If they break the oath, they die.”

Yu An blinked, processing: “What did the ex-boyfriend swear?”

Zhao Ran chuckled darkly. “He swore to love it for the rest of his life. A vow of eternal love. And as soon as he swore it—he died. Right there. Just like that. Hahahahahaha…”

A laugh escaped him, eerie and mirthless, and he reveled in the moment. Yu An, however, looked even more perplexed as Zhao Ran’s laughter echoed through the room.

“Ahem.” Zhao Ran cleared his throat, his face returning to its usual mask of calm professionalism. “Now, let’s move on.”

Hours passed in a haze of explanation. Zhao Ran’s voice barely faltered, though his throat began to feel dry, the words spilling out one after the other. He’d already consumed three cups of juice. When the clock seemed to stretch endlessly, he finally reached for a sheet of paper and a pen, placing them before Yu An with a measured calmness.

“Time for a test,” Zhao Ran said. “I’ll ask you some questions. You write down the answers. Let’s see what you’ve retained.”

“I need a break… I’m tired.” Yu An groaned, sprawled out on the bed, chewing on a pen cap as he stared blankly.

“You haven’t done anything yet.”

“My brain is working.”

Zhao Ran raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. “Start the test. After that, you can rest.”

For ten minutes, Zhao Ran spoke without pause, asking ten questions. When the time passed, he gathered the answer sheet and looked at Yu An’s responses.

It wasn’t bad at all. For the multiple-choice questions, he chose C for all of them. For the short-answer, he wrote, ‘Big scallop’s ex-boyfriend loves you forever, hahahaha.’”

“Tsk.” Zhao Ran sighed deeply, slapping the paper down on the table. He rubbed at his temples, the frustration clear in the way his fingers dug into his skin. It was clear from the very start that Yu An wasn’t fully present, but those last two hours—he had to have been lost in thoughts of the scallop and its tragic ex.

Yu An, his mouth still wrapped around the pen cap, noticed Zhao Ran sitting there, eyes closed, silently staring at nothing. Unable to resist, he reached out and nudged Zhao Ran’s knee with the pen cap.

Zhao Ran didn’t respond.

“Are you mad, Interviewer?” Yu An asked, sliding off the bed. He padded barefoot over to Zhao Ran, leaning in close, his breath warm against the other’s cheek. “Come on, you’re not really angry, are you?”

Zhao Ran didn’t move, his voice a low growl. “Stay away. Let me be alone for a moment. Go find something to do.”

But Yu An, with the impishness only he could pull off, didn’t retreat. “Interviewer, I have something for you.”

Zhao Ran opened his eyes reluctantly, seeing Yu An pulling out a small velvet box. He opened it, revealing a black earring. 

“Interviewer, do you have your ears pierced?”

Zhao Ran was momentarily stunned into silence, his gaze falling on the simple, black earring. It was circular, sleek—almost otherworldly in its simplicity. After a long pause, he murmured: “No.”

Yu An wasn’t deterred. “It’s fine.” He swung one leg over the chair, kneeling between Zhao Ran’s legs. Leaning close, he gently grasped Zhao Ran’s earlobe, his fingers warm and sure as they pulled the flesh taut. He positioned the earring, its sharp edge against the skin, then slowly, deliberately, pushed it through, piercing the tender flesh.

The air seemed to freeze, the world outside fading into a hush. The only sound that remained was the heavy thrum of their heartbeats—Zhao Ran’s, slow and steady, a careful pulse; Yu An’s, erratic and unhinged, like a storm that threatened to shatter the stillness.

The earring slid deeper, a thin line of blood trickling from the puncture, staining the pale skin. It was a sharp, vivid red, stark against Zhao Ran’s whiteness, and the blood ran down Yu An’s fingers, dripping onto the armrest.

Yu An had chosen the earring when he was out shopping, noticing how it matched Zhao Ran’s fair, almost ethereal complexion.

With his fingers stained, Yu An pushed gently at Zhao Ran’s now-bleeding earlobe. “Don’t be mad, Interviewer. All those questions you asked? I can repeat every word back to you. Which part do you want me to start with?”