The moment they returned to the abandoned cinema, Lin Wan contacted Chen Lin.
She told him everything.
Li Wei'an.Skydome Biotech.The gray-suited Zhao.The Entropy logo.
The reply came almost instantly.
And it was heavier than usual.
"Li Wei'an's background is complicated. Connected to multiple biotech institutions. Position unclear. High alert.""Zhao is confirmed mid-tier Entropy. Open contact means their patience is thinning—or they have a new plan.""Today's 'signature' display was too high-profile. It may accelerate their timeline.""Avoid public exposure.""Current safehouse may be compromised. Prepare to relocate.""New coordinates will be sent to the usual drop."
"Before transfer—final stimulus test. Let him watch this."
Attached: a video file.
Title:
"Echoes of the Abyss – Premiere Backstage Incident (Classified)"
Lin Wan's fingers went cold.
Echoes of the Abyss.
Silas Moore's final film before his disappearance.
A project rumored to have consumed him.
There had been whispers—method acting taken too far.Emotional instability.Something… breaking.
A backstage "loss-of-control" clip?
Where did Chen Lin even get this?
And why would he—
Why would he show this to him?
She hesitated.
The last time they triggered deep memory—with Silent River—he nearly shattered.
This was worse.
This was raw.
But Chen Lin never acted without reason.
Maybe Entropy was escalating.
Maybe they needed to know how stable Silas truly was.
Maybe this was pressure training.
Or maybe—
There was no choice.
She looked at Er'gou.
He was lying on the worn sofa, visibly exhausted after today's spectacle.
He sensed her gaze and lifted one eyelid.
Calm.
Waiting.
Lin Wan swallowed.
She placed the tablet in front of him.
And pressed play.
The footage was shaky.
Dim lighting.
Clearly recorded secretly.
A cluttered backstage corridor.
On screen—
Silas Moore.
Human.
Dressed in a black formal suit.
Face pale.
Dark circles carved deep beneath his eyes.
He was surrounded by staff and his manager.
He was trembling.
Not theatrically.
Not for cameras.
His eyes were hollow.
Wild.
His lips moved—muttering something unintelligible.
The manager tried to steady him.
Silas shoved him away.
Hard.
He staggered.
Gripped the wall.
His fingers dug into the wallpaper like claws.
Veins bulged along his forehead.
From his throat came a low, strangled growl—
Not unlike the sound Er'gou had made at Entropy's perfume trap.
Then—
He punched the wall.
Violently.
The camera shook.
The video cut.
Thirty seconds.
That was all.
But it felt suffocating.
Er'gou froze.
Completely.
His entire body locked in place the moment human-Silas appeared on screen.
The calm in his blue eyes shattered.
Shock.
Pain.
Shame.
Fear.
Something deeply buried—
Ripped open.
The image of himself—fragile.uncontrolled.broken.
It was a key.
And it unlocked a door he had sealed shut.
A broken sound escaped his throat.
"Wh—rr…"
His paw lifted unconsciously.
As if to touch the screen.
To reach that collapsing version of himself.
But it stopped midair.
His breathing fractured.
Irregular.
His body began shaking again—
Worse than at the masquerade.
Because this wasn't external stimulus.
This was internal flood.
Memory crashing inward.
He remembered.
The pressure.
The sleepless nights.
The role that consumed him.
The rumors.
The whispers.
The early shadows of Entropy watching.
The feeling of losing control.
That moment in the hallway—
was one of Silas Moore's deepest secrets.
One he had never allowed the world to see.
The screen went black.
Er'gou didn't move.
Still frozen.
Still reaching toward nothing.
His eyes filled—not with canine confusion.
But with human devastation.
He opened his mouth.
As if to scream.
But only a ragged breath came out.
Then—
He turned away violently.
Buried his face deep into the sofa seam.
Curled in on himself.
Tail tight.
Body shaking.
A muffled, continuous sound escaped the fabric.
Not fear.
Not weakness.
A proud man forced to confront his lowest moment.
Trapped in a dog's body.
Unable to scream properly.
Lin Wan's chest felt like it was being crushed.
She shouldn't have shown him.
She knew it.
She reached toward him—
Stopped.
There was an aura around him right now.
Don't touch.
Don't intrude.
He was fighting something enormous.
"I'm sorry…" she whispered.
"It's over… that wasn't your fault…"
The words felt small.
Useless.
The muffled sound continued.
For a long time.
Then gradually—
It weakened.
Turned into broken breathing.
The trembling eased.
But he didn't lift his head.
Just stayed curled.
Like a wounded animal licking invisible scars.
Minutes passed.
Maybe longer.
Finally—
Slowly—
He lifted his head from the sofa seam.
Fur messy.
Eyes darker.
The clarity from earlier chapters—gone.
In its place—
Depth.
Fatigue.
And something hardened.
Something settled.
He looked at Lin Wan.
That look carried too many things.
Vulnerability.
Self-mockery.
And a quiet, numb acceptance.
Then—
He raised his paw.
Not toward the tablet.
Toward the interactive voice toy Chen Lin had left behind.
Lin Wan blinked.
Confused.
She handed it over.
With effort—
Button by button—
He pressed.
"Action."
Pause.
"Stupid human."
Pause.
"Cut."
Pause.
"Coffee."
Start the performance.
Stupid humans—you, Chen Lin, the world, the madness.
Cut.
End this scene.
Coffee.
Comfort.
Even if it never comes.
Lin Wan understood.
Her nose burned.
"There's no coffee," she said hoarsely.
"But there's me."
She pulled him into her arms despite the stiffness.
Held him tight.
"There are also… a lot of canned food."
He stayed still for a few seconds.
Then—
Very lightly—
He pressed his forehead against her chin.
A small movement.
Tired.
Unarmored.
Trusting.
Moonlight poured into the abandoned cinema.
Cold.
Quiet.
But something had changed tonight.
After being dragged through that pain—
Something between them hardened.
Strengthened.
It wasn't owner and pet.
It wasn't celebrity and assistant.
It was two souls cornered by something bigger than themselves.
Leaning against each other.
Clumsy.
But steady.
The tablet screen dimmed.
Reflecting their blurred silhouette.
Outside—
The city lights glittered.
Danger everywhere.
Tomorrow—
They would run again.
New coordinates.
New escape.
New battlefield.
Destination unknown.
But at least—
They were no longer alone.