Chapter 624: Come Out

It's a push‑pull type; the wood's surface is smooth and icy, and when the fingertip touches it you can feel the grain's undulations.

She paused, feeling along the doorframe with her fingers until she found a recessed spot that seemed to be a handle.

She grasped the handle, took a deep breath, and pushed the door open.

The room inside was darker than outside, so dark that Ilya standing at the doorway could see nothing, only feeling a stronger musty odor pouring out, mingled with the scent of rotting wood and some indescribable smell.

She waited at the doorway for a while, letting her eyes readjust to the darkness, and then gradually discerned the room's outline— it seemed to be a study, with several bookshelves against the wall packed with books and scrolls of all sizes; on the desk lay a few sheets covered in writing, the ink in the inkstone had long since dried into a black, hard crust stuck to the bottom, and a brush was perched on a stand, its tip still poised as if dipped in ink, frozen at a moment from an unknown number of years ago.

Scattered on the floor were a few fragments.

Ilya crouched down and, using the faint, almost‑extinguished light from the Red Ruby, saw that it was a porcelain vase, shattered into several pieces scattered on the floor, the jagged edges fresh as if just broken.

She reached for the largest shard, turned it over repeatedly, and found it to be an ordinary piece of porcelain, painted on the outside with a few plum blossoms, plain white inside, with nothing else.

She picked up another piece, and still discovered nothing.

She placed the fragment back on the ground and stood up.

A muffled thump sounded from behind her.

The sound was faint, but in the quiet study it exploded like a bomb, jolting Ilya so hard her whole body bounced, her heart nearly leapt out of her throat.

She spun around abruptly, clutching the Red Ruby, her fingers already pressing the staff's trigger, ready to unleash the Magic Cannon at any moment—

The door slammed shut.

The door she had just pushed open had somehow sealed tightly; the sliver of light leaking through the crack vanished, leaving boundless darkness to surge in from all sides, enveloping her inside.

Ilya's mind went completely blank.

Her first instinct was to run; she rushed to the door, reached out to push, but the door wouldn't budge.

She pulled, and the door still wouldn't move.

She pressed her palm against the door panel and rammed it with her shoulder; the panel emitted a dull thud, as if hitting a solid wall, without even a tremor.

"Red Ruby—!" her voice began to tremble.

"Calm down..."

The Red Ruby's voice emanated from her palm, "Calm down... Ilya... step back first..."

Ilya released her grip and took two steps back, her back hitting the desk; the sheet on the desk was lifted by her body, fluttered in the air for two rotations, and fell to the floor.

Her chest heaved violently, her fingers pressing the Red Ruby's trigger whitened, and the Magic Cannon gathered in her palm, ready to erupt at any moment.

"Who—!"

Her voice quivered, as if someone were choking her, "Who's there—! Come out—!"

No one answered.

In the darkness only her own voice echoed, again and again, growing farther and fuzzier, as if something were mimicking her words.

Ilya's back was pressed against the desk, her palm slick with sweat; the Red Ruby's staff slipped once in her hand, nearly falling.

Her lips trembled, her teeth chattered, something swirled in her eye sockets, about to fall out.

A ball of fire lit up.

A teal, chilling‑cold green.

The flame drifted out of the darkness; without wind it moved on its own, flickering, like a lamp being held aloft by something unseen.

Ilya's eyes widened, her mouth opened, trying to scream but unable; her throat felt constricted, only managing a "gurgle" sound.

The fire grew larger, from fist‑size to watermelon‑size, then to basin‑size; as it expanded, Ilya finally realized it wasn't ghostly fire at all—it was a head.

A massive, translucent fox head made of teal‑green flame hovered in midair, body absent; its hollow eyes burned brighter fire, its mouth slightly ajar, revealing teeth and tongue also formed of flame.

It lowered its head, gazing at Ilya, something flickering within its hollow eyes.

Ilya's mind was a void.

She even forgot she still held the Red Ruby, forgot she could still fire the Magic Cannon, and simply stood there, head tilted back, staring at the fox head larger than her whole body, lips trembling, unable to utter a single word.

"Wa—!!!"

The flame emitted an exaggerated, bizarre screech, a high, ringing sound that bounced around the cramped room several times, shaking a few books loose from the shelves.

Ilya's brain was completely empty.

She let out a scream—sharper than the flame's screech—and threw herself backward; the back of her head struck the desk edge, pain flashing stars before her eyes, her legs went limp, and she collapsed, slumping on the floor.

The Red Ruby slipped from her palm, rolling twice on the floor; the staff's faint glow flickered erratically, as if startled itself.

The flame somersaulted in the air, its gaping mouth grinning wider, the fire‑shaped eyes curving into two crescents.

"Hahaha—!"

Its laugh was coarse and hoarse, like sandpaper on metal, yet its smugness could be felt from afar, "Scared, huh? Scared, huh? Hahaha—!"

Ilya slumped on the floor, her back against the desk leg, tears swirling in her eyes, lips trembling, unable to speak a single word.

Her heart pounded as if it would leap out of her throat, every pore exuding cold sweat, soaking the already dust‑covered dress even wetter and tighter.

The azure‑gold flame drifted before her, looping one moment, somersaulting the next; its fire‑shaped face constantly faced her, mouth stretched to its widest arc.

"Why are you crying!"

The flame's voice suddenly rose in pitch, sounding both scolding and teasing, "I haven't even done anything to you! I just shut the door, called out, and you start bawling like this? Your courage is really too small!"

Ilya's tears finally fell, not from fear but from the weight of everything that had happened over the past two days.

She had been grabbed by that purple‑haired woman, electrocuted, chased, thrown into this cursed place, wandering alone in this ruin for an indeterminate time, unable to find an exit, unable to find Zhigengniao Jiejie, and even the Red Ruby nearly broke.

She crouched on the ground, burying her face in her knees, her shoulders twitching, her sobs leaking through the gaps of her knees— muffled, thin, like a rain‑soaked kitten shivering in a corner.

The flame's arrogant blaze suddenly dimmed by half.

It hovered above Ilya's head; the expression on its fire‑face shifted from smug to puzzled, then from puzzled to irritation, and finally to an indescribable awkwardness.

"Alright, alright, stop crying!"

It circled Ilya once, its voice tinged with pent‑up irritation, "I didn't do anything! Just gave you a scare! Why are you—"