The initial shock quickly melted into a roar of enthusiastic approval. "Holy shit! That is insane!" a man dressed as a pirate yelled, his voice full of genuine admiration. "How did you do that effect? It so realistic!" "Is that silicone? The lighting inside is amazing!" a girl with a glittery fairy costume exclaimed, pushing closer with her phone. "The texture is perfect, you can even see the little veins and blood!" Compliments, whistles, and the rapid-fire clicking of phone cameras filled the air. A circle formed around Yiyi, and people pressed in, eager to get a better look at the "masterpiece." They discussed the "craftsmanship," praised the "attention to detail," and marveled at the "dedication" it must have taken. No one saw a victim. They saw a prop. They saw the pinnacle of Halloween costuming.

Xiao Wang and Xiao Li beamed, basking in the praise. They were artists receiving their accolades. Xiao Wang even grabbed Yiyi by the shoulders and turned her slowly, like a mannequin on a display stand, ensuring everyone got a good view from all angles. "Of course it real," Xiao Li replied coyly to a question from the crowd, her words a poisoned double entendre. "We spared no expense for the sake of realism." Yiyi stood rigid in the center of the storm, a living sacrifice on a public altar. Every word of praise was a fresh stab wound. Their awe, their morbid curiosity, their complete and utter failure to see her pain—it was a form of violence more profound than the scalpel cut. It annihilated her personhood. She looked at their excited, smiling faces, heard their laughter, and felt the chasm between her reality and their perception widen into an uncrossable abyss.

But one person saw. A girl in a slightly-too-short nurse uniform, who had been laughing with her friends moments before, had pushed her way to the front. Her gaze, however, didn't linger on the glowing horrors on Yiyi chest. It shot straight to Yiyi face. She saw past the stoic mask. She saw the profound, dead-eyed despair in Yiyi blue eyes. She saw the faint, dried tear tracks on her chalk-white cheeks. She saw the angry red chafe mark where the metal collar was digging into the soft skin of her neck. The nurse girl smile faltered, replaced by a creeping frown of confusion, then dawning horror. She sniffed the air, and beneath the sweet smell of candy and cheap perfume, she caught it: the faint, unmistakable, coppery scent of real blood and the sharp tang of antiseptic. Her medical training, however basic, screamed at her. The way the skin pulled, the color of the bruising, the authentic tremor running through Yiyi body. This wasn't a prop. This was real.

Xiao Wang, ever vigilant, noticed the shift in the nurse girl expression. She also sensed a subtle change in the crowd murmuring; a few whispers were no longer purely admiring but questioning. The illusion was fragile. "Alright everyone, the show over for now!" she announced loudly, clapping her hands to regain control. "We have other parties to get to!" Xiao Li understood immediately. A flicker of disappointment crossed her face, quickly replaced by a final, venomous surge of malice. She wanted one last encore. In full view of the crowd, she reached out, grabbed one of the chains leading to Yiyi right breast, and gave it a sharp, brutal yank.

"AAAAAGH!" A scream, raw, primal, and utterly authentic, tore from Yiyi throat. It was the sound of every ounce of her suppressed agony being unleashed at once. The sudden, excruciating tear of flesh sent a bolt of white-hot lightning through her entire nervous system. Her body convulsed, her back arching violently as her knees buckled. The crowd fell silent, stunned. The pirate, the fairy, the nurse—all of them froze, the festive mood shattering like glass. In that moment of blinding pain, Yiyi head snapped up. Her eyes, blazing with an unholy light, found Xiao Li. All the fear, all the shame, all the pain of the night coalesced into a single point of pure, unadulterated hatred. It was a look that held no plea, no weakness. It was a silent, blood-soaked vow. A promise of retribution, so cold and so absolute that Xiao Li actually flinched, a flicker of genuine fear crossing her face before she masked it with a contemptuous sneer. Grabbing the still-beaming Xiao Wang, she began to drag the nearly unconscious Yiyi away, melting back into the chaotic, indifferent river of the crowd.

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