Dazzling sunlight slanted through the windows of Freak's safe house, stabbing into their eyes. It felt like something was about to happen. Nightbloom curled up in a corner of the sofa, her tail thumping rhythmically against the cushions, producing a dull, muffled sound.
Thump—thump—
Crimsonlyn sat to Nightbloom's right. From her fingertips, almost invisible silver threads extended across the floor like cockroach antennae, exploring the movements within this commercial building—their way of confirming peace.
"That crazy woman's vanished without a trace again…" Nightbloom broke the stifling silence, her voice carrying its usual irritability, but with less edge. More of a helpless resignation.
"She said she needed to replenish some soon-to-be-extinct colors." Crimsonlyn's gaze was unfocused, her eyes vacant, wholly concentrated on the vibrations of her silver threads. "Everything's normal."
"Tch…" Nightbloom scratched her hair irritably, finally giving in and pulling out the tablet Freak had given them. Slide to unlock… aimless swiping. Suddenly inspired, Nightbloom's tail shot up like a skyscraper. "How about we download a short video app and see what's out there!" The download finished. First came local news feeds—"Louvre Area Restoration Enters Second Phase," "Police Maintain Focus on Recent Gear Ability Disturbances," "Seeing is Not Believing! The Thermodynamics of Your Microscopic Lunch"—the same old official jargon, making her even more annoyed. She swiped roughly, finally just going straight to the accounts of various news media.
Then her movement stopped.
Her pale crimson pupils abruptly contracted.
"Hey… Pinky." Nightbloom's voice was a little hoarse as she turned the tablet around. "Look at this… am I blind?"
The screen was flooded with breaking news from various international news agencies, headlines full of shocking exclamation points and question marks:
"BREAKING: Unexplained Massive Geographic Changes in the Far East!"
"Satellite Imagery Confirms! Vast Territory in the Shape of a Former Soviet Bloc Country Appears out of Nowhere in East Asia!"
"'New Soviet Union'? Mysterious Nation Claims Sovereignty over New Territory, Historical Accounts Have Severe Contradictions!"
"SHOCK: Unknown National Government Announces 'Re-Joining' the UN."
"Russo-Ukrainian War May Enter New Phase."
Crimsonlyn immediately got up, took the tablet, her amber eyes rapidly scanning the text, her fingertips lightly tapping and zooming in on key reports. Her expression grew increasingly grave.
It wasn't fake news. The satellite comparison images were brutally clear: in the south of what used to be the Russian Federation, at the northern edge of China and Mongolia, a vast, neatly shaped territory was "patched" into the continent like a giant plug. The overall shape of the continental shelf had been uniformly stretched and adjusted by some incomprehensible force, other countries' borders barely maintained, but every familiar geography textbook was now useless. Reports stated that global mapping systems and undersea cable routing charts were going haywire, and multiple critical international communication and energy lines passing through the area had been "physically severed," as if cut away by an invisible giant blade.
"Plate tectonics can't explain this scale and shape… this isn't a natural phenomenon." Crimsonlyn murmured, quickly pulling up more expert analysis. Seismic monitoring networks had recorded no energy release of the corresponding magnitude, as if that land, along with the faintly visible city outlines and transportation networks, had been "pasted" in.
Nightbloom leaned in, looking at the blurry, magnified images of the cities, buildings with styles mixing a heavy, old-world aesthetic and futuristic, towering spires. She let out a confused grunt: "What the hell? Why are they all confused? Didn't this country exist before?"
"Not quite." Crimsonlyn shook her head, scrolling to the contradictory founding documents and historical summary the "New Soviet Union" had submitted to the UN. "They claim to be a sovereign state that has existed continuously since 1922, with a complete, unbroken path to modernization. But their historical records…" She paused. "Mention some 'contributors who went missing during critical periods'… vanished cosmonauts… vanished presidents… the narrative has logical faults. And their appearance directly overlays part of the original 'nothingness zones' and international waters."
"So," Nightbloom's tail tip curled up irritably, "everyone in the world wakes up, finds the map changed, with a new 'old neighbor' no one's ever heard of, and this neighbor claims it's always been there, everyone was just blind before?"
"That about sums it up." Crimsonlyn clicked on a video from three days prior by an international political analyst, who was heatedly discussing the reactions of various countries. As they'd expected, after the initial shock and military alert, almost all major powers quickly shifted their official statements towards "humanitarian concern" and "peaceful engagement." The analyst pointed out that since the "New Soviet Union" presented a complete modern state structure and population (initial detection showed dense signs of life), a military solution was politically and morally impossible. Whoever gained access and influence first would seize a huge moral advantage in this unprecedented geopolitical shift, and acquire an "untapped market" and population resources untouched by the existing international system. A brand new, polite "scramble" had already begun at the UN and in various foreign ministries.
"For reputation… they're rushing to get to know this country that fell from the sky?" Nightbloom found this even harder to understand than a bizarre battle, but an instinctive alertness rose within her. Chaos, massive chaos. For people like them, hiding in the shadows, this was even deeper water.
"This…"
Maybe feeling tired was reason enough, or maybe she just didn't care about manners, but Nightbloom laid her head down on Crimsonlyn's lap.
At that same moment, someone else acted purely on instinct.
"You… you're pretty good at taking advantage, aren't you." Crimsonlyn's eyes had no focus as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with her index and middle fingers.
"No, no, no! That's not what I meant!" Nightbloom practically bounced off Crimsonlyn's legs, her tail bristling and her cheeks flushing crimson.
Real relationships aren't supposed to be smooth.
"Ha… haha, me neither…"
Nightbloom snatched back the tablet, her fingers swiping roughly across it, the screen constantly feeding new information. Her tail flicked behind her, missing its target, then flicked again. "What the hell… bird language?!"
Crimsonlyn didn't look up, her eyes fixed on her. "French."
"I know it's French." Nightbloom turned the tablet towards her. "I'm asking about this—'Gear Abilities Recently Disrupting Social Order'… Is that about us?!"
Crimsonlyn finally glanced up. "Could be about Freak too." "Even worse." Nightbloom tossed the tablet onto the sofa. "She's way more conspicuous than us."
The sun was still glaring.
Nightbloom held the tablet up higher, blocking the direct light, and scrolled down, re-reading the news about the "Russo-Ukrainian War." She had no idea where that country was or why they were fighting.
She put the tablet down.
"Forget it. I don't get it."
Crimsonlyn was silent. She wasn't looking at the tablet either. Her gaze was fixed on the distant grey-blue sky outside the window, her eyes unfocused—like she was daydreaming, or listening to something.
Nightbloom started scrolling again.
This time, she scrolled slower. Not on purpose—the headlines just kept getting longer, she had to read them to swipe past.
Then she stopped.
"Hey."
Crimsonlyn didn't move.
"Hey, Pinky."
Crimsonlyn turned her head.
Nightbloom held out the tablet, her finger jabbing at a photo on the screen. "This."
The photo was of a street. Nothing special, just a typical Parisian street, a few half-bare trees lining the pavement, several white rectangular sunshades set up on the sidewalk. There were queues in front of the tents, long lines snaking back and forth, stretching out of the frame.
The headline above the photo read:
"New Soviet Union Citizenship Registration Office – First Day Open in Paris, Thousands Queue"
Crimsonlyn took the tablet and scrolled down.
The report was simple: The New Soviet government had set up temporary offices in the capitals of several countries, accepting applications for identity verification from citizens of former Soviet states and their successor nations. Upon approval, they could voluntarily choose to acquire New Soviet citizenship and passport.
No complicated procedures. No appointments needed.
Just bring documents proving a connection to the USSR or Russian Federation, and queue up on site.
"There's one in Paris too." Crimsonlyn said.
Nightbloom's tail curled.
"…Do we have any documents?"
Crimsonlyn looked at her.
"No."
Silence.
Nightbloom's tail thumped the floor once.
"What about that crazy woman?"
"I don't know."
Another thump.
"When will she be back?"
"I don't know."
Nightbloom took the tablet back, staring at the photo of the queue for a long time.
The people in the photo, some carrying bags, some bundled in coats, some looking down at their phones, some chatting with the person next to them. They all looked so ordinary, the kind of people you'd pass on the street and never notice.
The tip of Nightbloom's tail twitched.
"…We're pretty ordinary too, aren't we?"
Crimsonlyn didn't answer.
She just gave a slight nod.
As if in agreement.