She murmured to herself, taking a step back, then two.
She turned to leave.
But her feet felt as if they were nailed to the spot.
Driven by some inexplicable impulse, she turned back again, staring fixedly at the box.
The drunken boast of her mentor rang in her ears: “…Opportunities, Sandrone, opportunities are always wrapped in the cloak of trouble!
A mechanic who’s afraid to reach out is only fit to tighten screws forever!”
That was probably referring to academic opportunities, not taking things from a dead person!
Her reason was screaming.
But her hand, acting ahead of her reason, reached out tremblingly.
Using her book as a shield with extreme speed, she pried open the deceased’s cold, stiff fingers and lifted the heavy box.
The leather felt cold and delicate to the touch.
After completing the act, her heart pounded wildly, and she felt as if she might vomit.
She bolted out of the alley like a startled rabbit, merging into the flow of people on the street, not daring to look back.
In the narrow rental room, on the only table, the ornate box stood quietly, forming a sharp contrast with the shabby surroundings.
A narrow bed, a crude stove, a pile of mechanical engineering books, and scattered tools were her entire worldly possessions.
Sandrone sat on the creaking chair, her hands buried in her hair, wishing she could pull a few strands out.
“Idiot!
Moron!
Sandrone, you brainless fool!”
She cursed herself in a low voice, “You’ve gotten yourself into big trouble!
The police!
The Murderer!
What if they find me…”
Images of her brother’s future being ruined and herself behind bars played on a loop in her mind.
Fear caused her stomach to cramp.
But another emotion was equally strong: curiosity, and the desperate hope of a drowning person clutching at a piece of driftwood.
The box was heavy; there was definitely something inside.
If it wasn’t money, it was something even more important.
Even if it were empty, the mechanical lock and craftsmanship of the box itself were worth a fortune, enough to cover her expenses for several months.
She forced herself to calm down, bringing her face close to the box to observe it carefully.
The locking system was exceptionally complex.
At its center was a keyhole requiring a specific bitted key, surrounded by three rotating brass rings.
Each ring was engraved with fine scale symbols, and there were several small toggle levers.
This wasn’t just a lock; it was more like a miniature mechanical puzzle.
Her professional instinct was triggered, temporarily overriding her fear.
She shook the box carefully; there was no obvious sound, but the center of gravity shifted slightly.
She gently stroked the protruding gears with her fingers, feeling their precise engagement.
“It needs a key, or…
a specific sequence of operations to trigger the internal mechanism and release the lock.”
She judged.
Forced entry?
That might damage the contents or trigger an unknown self-destruct device.
Who could solve it?
In this city, the top mechanical knowledge was at…
“Professor Hammer.”
She muttered the name, curling her lip.
That acerbic, harsh, middle-aged balding man who always loved to pick on her.
He was an authority, and the only person she could think of at this moment who might solve this puzzle—provided she didn’t directly confess the box’s origin.
Directly asking for help would be suicide.
She needed to “induce” him, to create a situation where the professor would take the initiative to study the lock without questioning its source.
Sandrone’s deep blue eyes stared at the precision components gleaming with brass light.
Her brain whirred at an unprecedented speed as fear and excitement, conscience and the will to survive, collided and intertwined within her.
The outline of a vague plan gradually took shape in her heart.
She picked up a pencil and began to sketch the structure of the box lock on scratch paper, trying to mark the possible meanings of those unfamiliar symbols.
“Risks and opportunities…”
She repeated her mentor’s words in a low voice, her lips curling into an expression that finally had a bit of life in it.
“Alright, Professor, let’s…
have an academic discussion.”
Perspective Shift.
Columbina wandered aimlessly across the lunar gravel, barefoot.
The crescent bases of her feet crushed the fine pebbles, making a slight rustling sound, yet they couldn’t stir up even a speck of dust.
Time had lost its meaning here; there were no sunrises or sunsets, no alternation of day and night.
There was only an infinite silence, wrapping around her like an airtight layer of cotton batting.
She had long since grown accustomed to loneliness, but this kind of loneliness—without even a phone or computer—still made her feel a bit stifled.
She stopped and stomped her foot hard on the ground beneath her; it was icy cold, stingy even with a single echo.
“So boring,”
She grumbled softly, her sweet, soft voice dissipating into the vacuum.
“I can’t exactly play Happy Beans here.”
All sorts of emotions tangled in her heart—irritation, confusion, and a bit of homesickness.
But strangely, she couldn’t actually feel anything.
It was as if a piece of her heart had been hollowed out, leaving only a weightless daze.
She turned around listlessly, her gaze falling on the grand hall not far away.
That giant statue of herself, set against the pitch-black background of the universe, emitted a faint Glimmer.
The raised middle finger was particularly conspicuous.
Since she was bored anyway, she might as well go up and take a look.
Columbina’s eyes lit up.
With a light tap of her toes, her body floated up like a feather.
The moon’s low gravity made her movements exceptionally graceful.
Like a nimble bird, she hopped over to the statue in a few bounds.
Her fingertips touched the stone wall of the statue, conveying a cold sensation.
The stone surface was smooth and delicate, even faintly shimmering with a soft halo.
She didn’t know what material it was carved from.
She climbed up using both hands and feet, her robes fluttering like unfolding white and blue wings.
She soon reached the top of the statue.
Standing on her own “head,” she swayed with her hands on her hips, then took another leap, landing steadily on that straight, upright middle finger.
She sat down cross-legged, her skirt falling to just cover the crescent base.
Resting her chin on her hand, she gazed toward the distant planet she had identified as Teyvat, wondering if she should make another funny face at the planet.
At that moment, an inexplicable urge welled up.
She unconsciously opened her eyes.
Those purple eyes were vacant, yet they precisely captured a sight she had never seen before.
Against the pitch-black cosmic background, the blue-and-white planet was surrounded by seven bands of colorful light.
The colors were hard to describe specifically; they looked like a crushed rainbow or frozen aurora, softly clinging to the planet’s surface and flowing with a faint halo.
And further away, at roughly the same level as the moon she was on, floated several massive clouds of gas.
Those gas clouds were a murky grey with distorted edges, like rotting pustules, emitting a nauseating aura.
Just looking at them made Columbina feel her hair stand on end, and goosebumps crawled all over her arms.
“What are those things…” she whispered, frowning.
Those seven bands of light looked soft, yet they carried an indescribable eeriness; those gas clouds were even more absurd—half the size of a planet, hanging heavily in the universe.
Just looking at them made one’s skin crawl.
She instinctively shook her head and rubbed her eyes.
When she looked again, the light bands and gas clouds were still clearly there, showing no sign of disappearing.
Columbina’s interest was piqued.
She hopped off the finger, landed in the statue’s palm, and looked toward the planet again.
Empty.
Only the planet hung there in solitude.
The light bands and gas clouds were nowhere to be seen.
She tilted her head, took another leap, and sat back on the tip of the middle finger.
The light bands and gas clouds reappeared in her vision.
After trying a few more times, the conclusion was clear: only at this specific peak could she use these special eyes to see those things.
Columbina stood on the fingertip with her arms crossed, the tips of her deep ginger-red hair moving imperceptibly in the vacuum.
She frowned deeply, her purple eyes staring fixedly at the things that made her feel so uncomfortable, especially those massive, filthy gas clouds in the distance.
“Soft but weird light…
disgusting black marshmallows…”
She summarized her observations.
“So, this is what’s outside Teyvat?
This new game version’s content is way too creepy!”
She shook her head, temporarily tossing those unpleasant sights out of her mind.
But a faint Glimmer of realization, like the cold dust on the moon’s surface, quietly settled.
This place might not be as “empty” as she had thought.
Some things had always been there; they just required a specific angle and specific eyes to be discovered.
“Such a pain.”
She grumbled, simply lying down on the middle finger, gazing at the endless pitch-black above and the planet surrounded by that mysterious halo.