Chapter 10: The small town of Siren

The keeper warned Bai Liu that the hot water room was somewhat isolated, with broken lamps leaving parts of the corridor in darkness. He added, with a mischievous smirk, that piles of mermaid wax figures were scattered along the way. "Be careful not to bump into them," he said with an impish gleam in his eye.

Bai Liu walked along a dimly lit corridor framed by towering marble columns, each wide enough to conceal two or three people behind them. At regular intervals, mermaid wax figures were stationed along the path.

Their forms were eerily lifelike yet unsettlingly static, tails draped limply on the ground, and their faces blank of any emotion. What unnerved Bai Liu most was their gaze—almost every figure was turned toward the windows, as though yearning to escape.

At the end of the corridor, the hot pool was already active, steaming water cascading out and filling the passageway with a thick, humid fog. The wax figures near the pool seemed to glisten under the mist, wax dripping faintly from their forms. They appeared to shift imperceptibly as if subtly melting, their shapes in flux.

As Bai Liu ventured deeper into the mist-shrouded hallway, he felt like he was walking through an underwater dream. The mermaid wax figures, half-hidden by the haze, seemed to sway gently, their movements just beyond comprehension.

Soon, Bai Liu noticed something unnerving. The mermaid figures, once facing the windows, began to subtly turn their heads toward him. Their necks crooked at unnatural angles, their blank faces now unmistakably focused on him.

Step by step, the figures drew nearer. Their melting forms began encroaching on the path, closing the distance between him and them. The tails of the mermaids dragged across the floor, leaving behind trails of greasy, waxy residue.

The silence of the grand, darkened corridor was oppressive. Bai Liu's soft footfalls echoed faintly, each step accompanied by the unsettling realization that the wax figures moved whenever he glanced away.

With each blink, the figures appeared closer, their positions and expressions subtly altered. The once-expressionless faces now bore faint, eerie smiles. Their pale, flawless forms glimmered under the dim light, their presence like a haunting tableau of restless phantoms frozen in time.

Bai Liu began counting the wax figures, trying to keep track of their movements. Every few steps, he'd glance behind him, locking eyes with those following. But each time he turned back to the path ahead, a figure seemed closer than before—its hand nearly brushing his neck.

The figures' movements were slow but deliberate, their sheer numbers and resilience making escape seem increasingly unlikely. Bai Liu maneuvered carefully, using the massive columns to prevent the figures from encircling him. He calculated their movements, deliberately forcing gaps to keep them from closing in completely.

Despite his strategic positioning, the figures continued their relentless approach. Their faces, originally generic and unremarkable, began to change. The wax melted and reformed, their once-uniform features now eerily mirroring Bai Liu's own face.

The resemblance was uncanny. The closer they came, the more the figures' grotesquely curved smiles twisted into a macabre mockery of Bai Liu's expression.

These malformed replicas advanced toward him, their once-static forms now brimming with life, clawed hands outstretched. The mist seemed alive with their presence, their distorted faces inching ever closer as they surrounded him.

Bai Liu finally arrived at what the keeper had referred to as the "hot tub." It turned out to be a yellowing old lavatory sink, its rust-stained tap darkened with streaks that could have been either dried blood or corrosion.

Above the sink, a rectangular tin can used for boiling water trembled and hissed, the sound of boiling liquid filling the damp air.

Without hesitation, Bai Liu calmly placed the folded newspaper he had been carrying onto the counter, his eyes scanning the room with quiet composure. As he turned back toward the sink, a group of mermaid wax figures stood silently behind him.

They loomed in rows of varying sizes and heights, completely blocking his path to escape. Their eyeless faces bore twisted, malicious grins, mouths cracked unnaturally at the corners. Under the dim light, their waxy forms shimmered faintly, and their expressions—grotesque parodies of Bai Liu's own face—seemed to mock him.

The figures tilted their heads downward, their melting features distorting further. Their greedy stares locked onto Bai Liu, who now felt as if he was surrounded by dozens of twisted reflections of himself.

The group wasn't just passively looming. They were hunting.

Bai Liu had earlier remarked that these wax figures lacked intelligence. Yet, here they were, seemingly learning on the spot, encircling him with a grim determination. Their unnerving ability to adapt and strategize reminded him of humans—a realization that made them all the more unsettling.

Hot water continued to pour out of the sink behind him, spilling over the edge. But Bai Liu didn't move to stop it—not yet. Any sudden movement, he knew, would invite immediate retaliation. His gaze stayed fixed on the figures, holding them in their place as they edged closer with every passing moment.

Instead of panicking, Bai Liu methodically reached back without turning and shut off the tap.

The mermaid wax figures inched forward, their expressions growing more menacing. Their distorted grins stretched wider, their faces curling into something almost unrecognizable. Bai Liu, however, seemed unconcerned. He stroked his chin, muttering to himself as if the advancing threat was no more than a curiosity.

"Hatching, huh? That's what this is. The closer they get, the more they resemble me. So, I guess what they eventually become will look exactly like me. Interesting... The ichor on me seems to have an effect when they get too close. Is that why the townspeople are all 'hatching' like this?"

Meanwhile, spectators watching Bai Liu's situation through small TV monitors weren't nearly as composed.

"Look at him! Still analyzing at a time like this," one sneered. "And what's with those cheap projectors he bought? Is he planning to show a movie to the mermaids?"

"Yeah, what a joke," another chimed in. "I spent my points on this guy? Should've gone for the torch guy instead. He's breaking through!"

Indeed, on a nearby screen, another player wielding a blazing torch was charging through a group of wax figures, shouting threats and forcing them to retreat. The audience erupted in cheers for the torch-wielding player's bold actions.

"See? That's how you handle it! Mermaids are photophobic, so a torch is the perfect prop!"

Bai Liu's small TV screen, however, remained mostly ignored, save for a few viewers sticking around to witness what they assumed would be his inevitable demise.

Their jeers continued as Bai Liu casually pulled out three cheap 3D projectors from his pocket.

"What is he even doing now?" someone mocked. "Projections won't work for long. At best, they'll confuse the wax figures for a few minutes. Then what? He's still stuck!"

Unperturbed, Bai Liu placed the projectors strategically—one behind him, one to his left, and one to his right. With a faint smile, he flipped them on.

In an instant, three identical projections of Bai Liu appeared, surrounding the wax figures. The figures hesitated, their movements halting as they turned their focus toward the projections.

The audience's laughter turned into awkward murmurs.

"Okay, so maybe that bought him some time," one admitted reluctantly. "But projections won't hold them off for more than ten minutes. The wax figures will figure it out. They're already reacting!"

Sure enough, after a few moments, the mermaid wax figures began to close in again, their suspicions seemingly growing.

But Bai Liu wasn't done.

Before the audience could fully dismiss him, the three projections mimicked Bai Liu's actions exactly. All four of them—Bai Liu and his projections—simultaneously pulled out torches and aimed them directly at the wax figures.

The room was suddenly bathed in bright, searing light.

The wax figures recoiled violently, their movements chaotic and disorganized. The once-confident spectators watching Bai Liu's screen were now struck silent.

Bai Liu smirked, his calm voice cutting through the tension. "One torch wasn't enough. But four?" He glanced at the retreating wax figures. "That should do the trick."