Chapter One: September Thirty-Fifth

“Who is Uncle Chen?” the director demanded sleepily. “Our contractors only work days. No one is there at night.” “He has guarded this building for eleven years.” “We moved into it seven years ago. You've worked too late.” At the corridor's end, the uniform stood beneath the exit sign. Features gathered on its white face: Chen's wrinkles, the director's eyes, then the face of a girl Lin knew better than he should. Lin Xi. His sister had died in an old-city fire seventeen years ago. More precisely, Lin alone remembered that she had died. The family register contained no Lin Xi. His parents insisted they had one child; the news called the fire casualty-free. Lin had treated her as a false memory born of trauma—until a monster borrowed her face.