Chapter 31: False Identity Claims
Zhang Wei frowned, the tactician in him overriding the shock. “This ‘man in the white mask,’ it’s a terrible identifier. All he has to do is take the mask off. Then he’s just a man. We’d never find him.”
From within Su Yao, a bitter, mocking laugh echoed, and her voice slipped back into the Tamamo-echo’s dual-toned sneer. “The mortal isn’t entirely a fool. Without the mask, he is nothing. An average, pitiful soul. The mask is the source. It’s the conduit, the focus, the key that unlocks the echoes of the void. He can’t sing the old songs or command the fragments of the dead without it.”
Su Yao wrestled back control, her own voice gritting with effort. “So, the mask is the real target. The man is just an afterthought.”
“Precisely,” the Tamamo-echo hissed, its interest momentarily aligning with theirs out of sheer self-preservation. “Shatter the mask, and you sever his power. You break his connection to me, and to all the other toys he has created.”
Mei snapped her fingers. “There we go. We’re looking for an artifact. That’s a much cleaner case. Unlicensed operation of a spiritual weapon, creating public nuisances, the list of violations writes itself.”
“Then the plan is simple,” Su Yao said, pushing herself fully upright. A new, predatory focus shone in her eyes. “We find a man who owns a very powerful, very distinctive white mask. And we break it.”
Su Yao’s hand twitched toward the gourd at her hip again. The mere thought of the Void, of that absolute nothingness that had once swallowed her whole, sent a cold dread coiling in her gut. She needed the numbness, the blurry edges that only the fire-wine could provide.
Just as her fingers brushed the gourd, a wave of cold, alien amusement washed over her from within.
Go on, the Tamamo-echo purred in her mind. Drink. Lose your focus. Let the warmth cloud your magnificent fury. I am waiting.
Su Yao’s hand froze.
A terrible, crystal-clear understanding dawned on her. The alcohol loosened her grip on her own body and spirit in addition to dulling her senses. In her intoxicated state, her control slipped. The parasitic consciousness nestled inside her could more easily slither into the driver’s seat.
“Damn it,” she whispered, her voice thick with frustration.
She let her hand fall away from the gourd. The burning need for oblivion was still there, a physical ache, but it was now overridden by a colder, sharper imperative: control.
“The faster we find that mask and break it, the better,” she ground out, her voice sober and strained. “I can’t afford to be drunk until this stowaway is evicted.”
Zhang Wei, observing the internal struggle on her face, nodded grimly. “Understood. We hunt sober.”
The Tamamo-echo let out a sigh of disappointment in the depths of her soul. You are no fun at all, vessel.
“Don’t call me vessel,” Su Yao muttered, straightening up and forcing a sharp, sober clarity into her eyes. “I’m your landlord. And your eviction notice is coming.”
Su Yao watched as Mei stifled a genuine yawn. Her demonic armor was now completely gone, leaving only the rumpled rabbit pajamas. The cosmic threat had momentarily passed, leaving behind only exhaustion and absurdity.
“Hey,” Su Yao said, her voice rough but lacking its usual edge. “I told you to stay out of this. Why did you even come?”
Mei blinked sleepily, scratching her head. “Will you believe me if I say I was sleepwalking?”
A beat of silence followed. Zhang Wei looked like he had been slapped. Jian Feng just stared, his brain seemingly having given up on processing anything else today.
Su Yao stared at her best friend for a long moment, then let out a short, sharp laugh that was more relief than amusement. “You’re a terrible liar. And I’d believe that about you before I’d believe the sky is green.”
She reached out and flicked a stray piece of chip off Mei’s shoulder. “But, thanks for crashing the party.”
Mei gave a lazy, two-fingered salute. “Any time. Now, if you will excuse me, my bed is calling.” She turned and started walking away, then paused, glancing back over her shoulder. “Oh, and Su Yao? Try not to get possessed by any more historical knock-offs before breakfast, okay? It’s rude.”
With that, she vanished by turning a corner between two shattered rocks and not appearing on the other side.
Inside Su Yao’s mind, the Tamamo-echo was unnervingly quiet, but Su Yao could feel its simmering, fearful attention fixed on the space where Mei had been.
What, what is that? it finally whispered, its bravado utterly gone.
Su Yao ignored it, turning to Zhang Wei and Jian Feng. “You heard her. Let’s wrap this up. We have a mask to find.” The unspoken thought hung in the air, clear to all of them: Before I need a drink so badly I let this thing out again.
Su Yao’s eyes lit up with a sudden, dangerous spark. She looked at the faint, lingering spiritual residue of Jian Feng’s mother, then down at her own hands.
“I have an idea,” she announced.
Zhang Wei immediately looked wary. “That tone never precedes anything good.”
“The problem,” Su Yao said, ignoring him, “is that I can’t get drunk because this squatter,” she tapped her own forehead, “uses my intoxication as a window to take over. So, we give her a different window.”
She closed her eyes. A wisp of crimson foxfire, tinged with the same dark energy of the Tamamo-echo, split from her body. It swirled on the ground, coalescing into a perfect, though slightly translucent, clone of Su Yao. It stood empty-eyed, a vacant vessel.
“What are you doing?” Zhang Wei asked, his voice tight with alarm.
“Creating a controlled environment,” Su Yao said. She focused inward, addressing the parasitic consciousness. Hey, forgery. You want a body? A taste of freedom? Here’s a temporary one. I’ll even pour some power into it. You can have it.
The Tamamo-echo within her stirred, intrigued and suspicious. A trap.
It’s a leash, Su Yao corrected mentally. The clone is tied to me. The moment you try anything beyond existing in it, I dispel it. You vanish back into the cage in my head. But if you behave, you get to feel the wind on your face again. For a little while.
The temptation was too great. A stream of dark energy, the core consciousness of the Tamamo-echo, flowed out of Su Yao and into the waiting clone.
The clone’s eyes snapped open, now glowing with that familiar arrogant gleam. It flexed its fingers, a cruel smile on its lips. “A gilded cage is still a cage, vessel.”
“It’s a playpen,” Su Yao retorted. Then, without another word, she uncorked her gourd and took a long, deep, desperate swig of the fire-wine. She shuddered as the warmth flooded her system. The tension in her shoulders finally eased.
She looked at the possessed clone. Her own gaze was now slightly glazed but firmly her own. “See? Now I can get drunk, and you, you can stand there and look pretty.”
The Tamamo-echo in the clone looked utterly offended. Its form flickered with frustrated power, constrained by the walls of its new prison.
Zhang Wei pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is the most insane solution to a drinking problem I have ever witnessed.”
Jian Feng just whispered, “I need a new phone.”
Their walk back to Su Yao’s apartment was a surreal procession. A slightly swaying, drunken Su Yao led the way, followed by her own perfectly replicated and visibly furious clone, with a weary Zhang Wei and a shell-shocked Jian Feng trailing behind.
Su Yao shoved the door open. Su Nuan Nuan looked up from the kitchen table. Her expression shifted from worry to pure, unadulterated shock. Her eyes locked on the clone.
Her chopsticks clattered onto the table.
“Su Nian?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Is that you? After all these years, you haven’t aged a day.”
The Tamamo-echo clone, which had been radiating silent malice, froze. It tilted its head. A perfect imitation of Su Yao’s features now wore a mask of cold curiosity. It said nothing, simply observing this unexpected development.
Su Yao, leaning against the doorframe, took another swig from her gourd. “Auntie,” she slurred, “you’re seeing things. That’s just my stunt double.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Su Nuan Nuan stood up, her eyes glistening. She approached the clone, her hand trembling as she reached out, though she stopped short of touching it. “The resemblance, it’s uncanny. It’s her! Su Nian, my cousin, we lost contact decades ago after she went abroad. She was always so ethereal.”
The clone finally spoke, its voice a chillingly smooth version of Su Yao’s. “Was I?” it asked, its gaze boring into Su Nuan Nuan. “Tell me more.”
Su Nuan Nuan, mistaking the cold hunger for nostalgic interest, smiled tearfully. “You were! Always getting into strange trouble, always talking about things the rest of us couldn’t see.” She turned to Su Yao. “Xiao Ling, where did you find her? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Su Yao waved a dismissive hand, nearly losing her balance. “Found her in a dumpster. She followed me home. Can we keep her? She doesn’t eat much. Probably.”
Zhang Wei quickly stepped forward, forcing a smile. “Auntie, it’s a long story. We should all sit down.”
Su Nuan Nuan ignored him. She was still captivated by the clone. “You must stay for dinner, Su Nian! I’ll make your favorite braised pork belly!”
The clone’s lips curled into a slow, predatory smile. It was an expression Su Yao’s face had never made. “I would, like that,” it said, its voice a silken trap. “Tell me, cousin, what else do you remember about the old days?”
Su Yao, from her spot by the door, groaned and took another long drink. This is going to be a very complicated evening.
The braised pork belly was a delicacy. Su Nuan Nuan had outdone herself, and the table was laden with steaming dishes. The clone, ‘Su Nian,’ ate with a startlingly refined grace. Every movement was precise.
A noticeable change came over her as the meal progressed. The predatory sharpness in her eyes softened into a kind of placid contentment, and the furious energy that had been crackling around her like a storm subsided.
She even complimented the tea.
“It is adequate,” she said, holding the simple ceramic cup with an almost reverent touch. “The warmth is agreeable.”
Su Nuan Nuan beamed, mistaking ancient, forced civility for genuine pleasure. “I’m so glad you like it! It’s just the cheap kind from the market.”
Su Yao, now significantly more sober and deeply suspicious, watched the scene like a hawk. She nudged Zhang Wei under the table. “See that?” she muttered. “Feed the primordial echo and it purrs like a kitten. Pathetic.”
Zhang Wei frowned, studying the clone. “It’s calm and sated. I don’t sense any malicious intent from it right now.”
“Of course not,” Su Yao scoffed quietly. “It’s digesting. Even monsters have to focus on their metabolism.”
Once the meal was finished, ‘Su Nian’ even helped clear the plates, moving with an eerie, silent efficiency that was far more unnerving than any overt threat. She placed the last plate in the sink, then turned her gaze to the mundane cityscape outside the window.
“The mortal world is louder than I remember,” she mused, her voice now devoid of its earlier venom. “And yet, quieter in its soul.” She glanced at Su Yao. A flicker of that ancient awareness shone in her eyes. “A paradox.”
Su Nuan Nuan sighed happily, wiping her hands on a towel. “It’s so good to have family together again.” She completely missed the way Su Yao and Zhang Wei exchanged a loaded glance.
“Thrilling,” Su Yao deadpanned.
As her aunt began washing up, the clone approached Su Yao. Its movements were no longer hostile, but inquisitive.
“The vessel is less disagreeable when not fighting for its sovereignty,” it stated, as if commenting on the weather.
“Don’t get used to it,” Su Yao replied, her voice low. “This is a temporary ceasefire.”
The clone merely nodded, a strangely human gesture. “A full stomach provides a clarity that millennia of rage does not.” It looked toward the kitchen where Su Nuan Nuan was humming. “She sees a ghost she loves in me. A harmless fantasy.”
“For now,” Su Yao said, her eyes narrowing. “But the moment you get hungry for something other than pork belly, the playpen disappears.”
The echo offered a slow blink, a sign of acknowledgment. “Understood, Landlord.”
The tranquility was, everyone knew, a ticking clock. But for the moment, the most dangerous thing in the room was a contented, ancient echo doing the dishes.
Su Yao watched the echo dry a plate with unnatural precision. The alcohol had faded enough for curiosity to itch at her.
“So,” she began, leaning against the kitchen doorway. “Japan. You were there. What was it like?”
“Loud. Crowded. Full of humans who built shrines to things they barely understand and feared the shadows they themselves created.” The clone placed the dried plate on the stack with a soft click. “It is a place. Like any other place on this earth. The mountains are silent, the cities scream, and the sea tastes of salt.”
“Poetic,” Su Yao said dryly. “Did you enjoy bringing empires to their knees there?”
The echo finally glanced at her. A flicker of ancient boredom shone in its eyes. “It was a diversion. A game. They wrote poems about my smile and plays about my wrath. It was all very theatrical. Ultimately, it was no different from here. Power is power, whether it wears silk robes or a business suit.”
“So you don’t have a deep, abiding love for the Motherland? No secret longing for Mt. Fuji?”
‘Su Nian’ let out a soft, derisive sound. “Land is land. It does not love you back. I have slept under its soil in many countries. It’s all the same dirt.”
Su Nuan Nuan bustled over, wiping her hands. “What are you two gossiping about? Old times?”
“Something like that,” Su Yao said, her eyes still fixed on the clone. “Just confirming that my ‘long-lost cousin’ is as jaded and unimpressed with the world as I am.”
The echo gave a slow nod, almost like a bow. “It is the privilege of those who have seen too many seasons turn, sister.” The term of kinship was spoken without warmth, a simple statement of fact.
Su Nuan Nuan sighed wistfully. “You always were the philosophical one, Su Nian.”
The clone turned its gaze back to the window, its expression unreadable. Their conversation was over. It had confirmed a simple, crushing truth. For a being of its scope, geography was meaningless. Only power and hunger had ever truly mattered. And right now, it was, temporarily, not hungry.
Su Yao was about to turn away, dismissing the entire geographical line of questioning as pointless, when the clone spoke again, its tone as casual as if remarking on the weather.
“One thing I neglected to mention,” ‘Su Nian’ said, placing the final dried cup neatly in the cupboard. “The man with the mask. He isn’t Japanese.”
Su Nuan Nuan, confused, looked between them. “What man?”
Zhang Wei slowly put down his tea. “What?”
Su Yao’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Explain.”
The echo turned, leaning back against the counter with an air of bored recollection. “He was a tourist, a loud one. From the west, I believe. He bought the mask from a stall in Asakusa as a souvenir. It was a cheap, gaudy thing. He thought it looked ‘mystical.’”
A faint, contemptuous smile touched its lips. “He had no idea what it truly was. The power within it, called to him. Or perhaps it simply found him to be a suitably empty vessel. He put it on, and the man he was, ceased to be relevant.”
Zhang Wei’s face paled. “So we are looking for a random Western tourist who picked up a cursed artifact?”
“Precisely,” the clone said. “The mask chooses its wearer. Their origin is irrelevant. What matters is their weakness.”
Su Yao let out a long, slow breath, running a hand through her hair. The scope of the problem had just exploded. “So our target could be anyone from anywhere. A backpacker from Germany, a businessman from America, or a student from France.”
“Indeed,” the echo replied, looking mildly amused by their dismay. “The void does not discriminate by nationality. It only cares for the cracks in the soul.”
Su Yao shot a glare at the clone. “You could have led with that.”
“You didn’t ask,” it said serenely.
Zhang Wei stood up, his mind already racing through logistical nightmares. “This changes everything. We need to track international arrivals, tourist hotspots, and missing persons reports.”
“Then stop drinking my tea and get started,” Su Yao snapped, though the edge in her voice was undercut by the sheer scale of the task. She looked at the smug, placid face of the clone and felt the slipper in her hand itch with anticipation.
Su Nian placed the last dried dish away with a final, precise motion. She then turned and announced with an air of finality, “I am tired. I will sleep now.”
Su Yao stared. Her grip tightened on her gourd. “You’re a clone, a spiritual construct. You don’t need sleep.”
The clone met her gaze. A flicker of ancient weariness shone in its eyes that felt unnervingly genuine. “Just because this form does not require it,” it stated, its voice softer now, “does not mean I can’t enjoy the concept of surrender, or the quiet that comes with the cessation of endless thought.” It glanced towards the spare room. “It is a luxury I have not known in a very, very long time.”
Zhang Wei looked like he was taking mental notes for a psychological profile on multidimensional entities. Jian Feng had given up entirely and was just staring at a crack in the ceiling.
Su Nuan Nuan, of course, beamed. “Of course you must be tired, Su Nian! Traveling is so exhausting, even if you don’t look it.” She bustled over, shooing Su Yao aside. “Don’t be so rude, Xiao Ling. The guest room is all made up. You get a good rest.”
The clone offered Su Nuan Nuan a nod that was almost gracious. “My gratitude, cousin.” It then swept past a speechless Su Yao and disappeared into the guest room, closing the door with a soft, definitive click.
Su Yao stood frozen in the hallway, listening from behind the door. She took a slow sip from her gourd.
“That,” she said to the closed door, her voice low, “is the most pretentious thing I have ever heard.”
From inside the room, there was no answer, but Su Yao could have sworn she felt a faint, smug sense of satisfaction emanating through the wood.
Zhang Wei finally spoke, his voice hushed. “It’s indulging in the simulation of mortality, studying it.”
“IT is avoiding the issue and getting a free nap,” Su Yao corrected, draining her gourd. “Fine. Let it play house. We’ll see how much it ‘enjoys the concept’ when we drag it out tomorrow to find a tourist with a world-ending mask.”