Chen Lin flipped the switch.
The projector groaned awake.
Krrrk… chhk… whirrr…
A trembling beam of light tore through the dusty darkness and splashed across the yellowed screen. The image that emerged was blurred, jittering, scarred by time—
yet unmistakable.
A young man appeared.
Silas Moore.
Human.
Rookie.
Onscreen Silas was still green, his features softer, his aura unpolished—
but the eyes…
Even then, they carried that razor edge that would one day dominate an industry.
His voice crackled through the ancient speakers, distorted by age, but every syllable still cut clean.
Er'gou froze.
Completely.
Ears upright.
Body leaning forward.
Blue eyes locked onto the screen with a hunger that bordered on violent.
It was as if something inside him had been hooked—
and was being reeled back through years.
He watched.
Silas running through rain.
Silas gasping for breath.
Silas's trembling close-up—
that suppressed, shattering gaze from the monologue that had earned him his first Best Newcomer Award.
Er'gou's breathing quickened.
Claws dug into the seat's metal frame.
A faint sound leaked from his throat—
tight, strangled.
Not a dog's whine.
Something deeper.
Something trapped.
Lin Wan's heart slammed.
She had never seen him like this.
Not arrogant.
Not sarcastic.
Not aloof.
But… pulled.
Torn open.
Then—
the scene changed.
An emotional breakdown sequence.
Onscreen Silas's eyes reddened, tears spilling, voice cracking as he roared his lines into the storm.
In the dark theater—
Er'gou began to shake.
Violently.
Muscles spasming beneath his fur.
He threw his head back toward the screen—
mouth opening—
No bark came out.
Instead—
a sound that should not exist.
A broken, mangled, agonizing noise clawed its way free:
"Wuu… ahh… ghhk…"
A vocal cord twisted beyond design.
A beast's throat trying to form a human's grief—
and failing.
Lin Wan's blood ran cold.
Er'gou's blue eyes glistened.
Not canine emotion.
Not instinct.
But raw, human anguish.
Pain.
Rage.
Despair.
Silas Moore was screaming from inside a husky's body.
"Stop it! Turn it off!" Lin Wan lunged toward the projector.
Chen Lin caught her wrist mid-stride.
"Wait!"
His voice was sharp, urgent.
"Look at his paw!"
Er'gou's right forepaw had lifted.
Slowly.
Unnaturally.
Five toes spread apart, trembling—
then curling inward with excruciating effort.
Not a scratch.
Not a reflex.
But a grotesque imitation of a human hand clawing at empty air—
as if grasping for something lost.
Lin Wan's breath hitched.
"That's not… a dog movement…"
Chen Lin's eyes burned.
"He's immersing."
"He's responding to the anchor."
"He's trying to perform."
Onscreen, the crying scene ended.
Rain faded.
Dialogue softened.
Er'gou collapsed sideways into the seat.
Breathing ragged.
Chest heaving.
The wet shimmer drained from his eyes, leaving only a vast, hollow exhaustion.
His raised paw dropped lifelessly.
Chen Lin killed the projector.
Darkness swallowed the screen.
Only a few dying wall lamps remained.
Silence.
Heavy.
Unforgiving.
Chen Lin spoke quietly, voice edged with gravity.
"Did you see?"
"That's the humanity fluctuation."
"Triggered by intense memory anchors."
"But his body can't sustain or express it."
Lin Wan swallowed hard.
"It drains enormous energy," Chen Lin continued.
"Destabilizes cognition."
"Causes pain."
"And if that happens outside…"
His gaze sharpened.
"…and Entropy's watchers witness it…"
He didn't finish.
He didn't need to.
Lin Wan's fingers tightened.
"The audio file you sent…"
"A stabilizer," Chen Lin nodded.
"It helps calm neural overload after emotional spikes."
"But it's a bandage."
"Not a cure."
He crouched beside Er'gou, gently resting a hand against the trembling husky's back.
"We need structured guidance now."
"Deliberate training."
Lin Wan whispered, "Training… how?"
"We stimulate the human side."
"Reinforce identity."
"Stabilize consciousness."
Chen Lin's tone hardened.
"But we also teach control."
"He must learn to operate within a dog's physiology."
"To express human intent through canine behavior."
His eyes flicked to Lin Wan.
"And meanwhile…"
"You maintain your cover."
Influencer.Pet blogger.'Cute Er'gou.'
Reality crashed down like a verdict.
Lin Wan exhaled slowly.
"So from now on…"
"He might randomly go into 'Best Actor Mode'…"
"And we just explain it as…"
She gave a hollow laugh.
"…'Wow, the husky is unbelievably dramatic.'"
Chen Lin didn't smile.
"Exactly."
Lin Wan looked at Er'gou.
At the exhausted, breathing, impossibly complicated creature beside her.
A superstar's mind.
A weaponized nose.
A predator's body.
A fractured identity fighting not to disintegrate.
"…That's hell difficulty," she muttered.
Er'gou's ear twitched faintly.
As if he agreed.