Chapter 44: Doubts
The air in Nanjiang City hung heavy with dread, despite Sunday’s promise of rest.
Chen Dongyang’s phone buzzed relentlessly with news alerts:
Five bizarre falling deaths in Nanjiang City in one day. Police urge calm.
Expert: Copycat suicides may stem from ‘Werther Effect.’
Insider: Victims’ death poses eerily similar, possibly tied to cult rituals.
Sensational headlines, paired with mosaiced photos of bodies in disturbingly uniform poses, spread panic like wildfire.
Chen Dongyang sat at his desk, sleepless, refreshing his phone mechanically.
The comments sections overflowed with fear and speculation, chilling him to the bone.
Five new deaths in hours, beyond the senior and Li Wenbo.
Not the “Werther Effect”—the “angel” or its mastermind was escalating, gripping the city.
The powerlessness echoed his past, watching Jiang Yuxin die repeatedly in rewound time.
Suffocating.
His phone vibrated—a message in their four-person chat.
Xiran Little Cutie: Situation’s changed. Usual place. Now. @All
Adrenaline surged.
He grabbed his coat and bolted out.
—
Nanjiang City’s Commercial Square
Despite the panic, the city churned on.
A massive LED screen blared a pop song by virtual idol “Stardust,” her flawless, programmed smile beaming across a towering building.
Her upbeat tune clashed with the crowd’s uneasy murmurs, ads, and screams—a warped urban symphony.
In the café, Yin Xiran and Yin Qingle were already there.
Yin Xiran, in sportswear, arms crossed, stared at the screen, brow furrowed.
Yin Qingle clung to her sister, pale and rattled by the oppressive noise.
Jiang Yuxin arrived, her calm eyes colder than usual.
“Found something?” she asked Yin Xiran directly.
Yin Xiran snapped back, irritation breaking through.
“Trouble. I tracked Zhao Haoyu, but he’s a ghost.”
She exhaled, voice grave.
“He rented an apartment under a false name three days ago, bought supplies. Then—poof. No phone signal, no online trace, no footage. He’s in Nanjiang, but hiding like a needle in a haystack.”
Chen Dongyang’s faint hope dimmed.
Finding someone in a city of millions was impossible.
“The ‘angel’?” he asked.
“It was hurt yesterday. Could it…”
“Nothing,” Yin Xiran cut in, shaking her head.
“It’s either hidden beyond our reach or doesn’t need that form anymore.”
Silence fell, heavy and grim.
“Stardust” sang on, her cheer mocking their failure.
“Wait,” Chen Dongyang said, the music stirring a thought.
“We’re chasing the mastermind, their location, their goal. But we’ve missed something basic.”
Three pairs of eyes turned to him.
“The music box collects ‘nutrients,’” he said, hesitant.
“How does it spread? How does it work? It can’t just affect anyone nearby—too limited. Those five victims were across the city. The killer isn’t hunting them one by one, right?”
Yin Xiran and Jiang Yuxin froze, their gazes shifting to the giant screen’s blaring pop song.
The idol’s voice, the crowd’s murmurs, the ad noise—it all collided.
Their eyes—Xiran’s sharp, Yuxin’s deep—met, seeing the same truth.
An invisible, pervasive medium.
The perfect conduit.
They spoke in unison:
“It’s sound.”
“It’s music.”