Illusion Report

Chapter 341: Chapter 296: Brianna’s Death Triangle

The closer to the finish line, the more dangerous things become.

Westley had dug in his heels at the fourth Illusion, determined to halt the Domination Game right there — in his eyes, the Illusion Report that would lead him to the fifth was no different from a death warrant.

"There are conditions for moving forward."

Westley held up two fingers. A small bulge pushed out from his cheek, then settled back.

"First, do what you proposed — bring Vulture into the human world and make it a second me."

The idea had originally come to Brianna from the Illusion Report.

If Vulture could enter the human world and take the mayor’s place, what was stopping them from bringing in another one to "replace" Westley?

Let "Vulture-Westley" stand in for him — walking around in public, drawing fire, absorbing accidents and assassination attempts — while the real Westley stayed locked inside the safe room without ever taking a single step out. After all, the safe room had everything he could possibly need.

"...Mr. Westley,"

Brianna forced the words out, swallowing down the writhing, slick mass of revulsion coiling through her chest. "’Rumor’ is in your possession. You released the Vulture rumor, but it still hasn’t come true, and we have no idea how long we’ll have to wait. If Vulture doesn’t enter the human world for another year..."

New players would definitely be joining in the meantime.

Westley raised his second finger. "Which brings me to my second point. Find a way to put your life on the line alongside mine. I think that’s only fair, don’t you?"

Brianna stared at him blankly.

In that moment, she thought of her mother — someone she hadn’t thought about in a very long time.

Her mother standing beside the sofa, a little uneasy, saying to her husband as he climbed higher and higher through the human world’s ranks: "All this is dangerous. Just please don’t drag Brianna into any of it."

I’m sorry, Mom.

The body I’m wearing isn’t the one you raised with such care, bit by bit. Your one wish — even that one — didn’t come true.

Brianna knew full well that two bodyguards were standing right there, but her mouth seemed to have a mind of its own. "But... Dad."

Westley flinched as if he’d been scalded, spinning toward the two bodyguards. "Wait for me in the suite. Don’t go far — stay alert."

Dylan’s expression didn’t flicker — as if he’d heard nothing at all. He walked with the other bodyguard into the side room off the study suite and pulled the door shut.

Westley turned his face back toward her slowly, in halting increments, like a mechanism grinding through its rotation — Brianna was such a repellent thing to him that every muscle in his face and jaw had to clench tight just to keep him from spitting on her.

The two situations had nothing to do with each other, and yet she suddenly thought of the time she had crossed paths with Morando, and the involuntary shudder that had gone through him.

The shadows and the light of a life — it turned out they pressed this close together.

"...I told you." Westley’s voice dropped low. "I warned you."

Brianna said nothing.

"You’re upset? But think about it — the danger you’ve faced had nothing to do with you personally. It happened to this man’s body, that’s all. If something were to happen to me, though, it would be a different matter entirely. Don’t you agree?"

He paused, waiting for her response.

She gave none. He gave none either. The silence in the room grew harder and heavier with every passing second, until the pressure finally forced Brianna to lower her head and give a single, reluctant nod.

"Good. I’ve made myself clear — don’t make me repeat it."

Westley was short in stature, yet his eyes still bore straight into the top of Brianna’s bowed head. "Until at least one of these conditions is met, all collection activity stops."

He settled back into his chair, called to the bodyguards in the side room, and then flicked a dismissive wave at Brianna.

"You can go."

Brianna didn’t move.

...Collection activity stops?

No. That’s impossible.

Westley raised his eyes to her.

"I know why." The words were out of her mouth before she even knew she’d formed the thought. "I know why all the danger is falling on you alone."

"Why?"

"Because all four Illusions are in your hands."

If the real Brianna were still inside this body, maybe her heart would have been hammering right now.

"Whoever holds the target Illusions is the true competitor — teammates are just teammates, nothing more. That logic makes sense, doesn’t it?"

Westley considered it for a moment.

"I know the four Illusions aren’t all literally on your person," Brianna added. "But you’re the only one who knows where the other three are, aren’t you? In every way that matters, they’re still in your hands alone."

After what felt like an eternity, Westley finally gave a slow, measured nod.

"...I see. That is one genuine possibility."

Brianna kept her mouth shut and waited for what came next.

"You’re thinking... if you knew where they were, you’d share half the risk?" Westley tapped the tabletop, turning the idea over. "But if the danger I face stays exactly the same, and all that changes is that you gain an equal chance of dying..."

Before she could even open her mouth, he slapped his palm down on the table and made up his mind.

"Worth trying."

That quickly? She was actually taken aback — perhaps when Westley wasn’t gripped by fear, he was a man who made decisions fast.

"Come with me," Westley rose from behind the desk and gestured for the bodyguards to follow. "I’ll take you to see the other three Illusions."

...Wasn’t he afraid she’d steal them? Or did he simply believe that without his resources, Brianna couldn’t do a thing?

The main buildings of the manor were several structures joined together, spreading and stretching across nearly three thousand square meters — from above, they formed an elongated, undulating L-shape. The safe room sat precisely at the corner of that L, buried deep underground.

The safe room itself held only three rooms, one common area, and a bathroom — modest almost to the point of austerity, by Westley Manor standards. But it lived up to its name without question. Nuclear war, viral outbreak, Nest incursion — it would likely remain one of the safest places on earth through any of them.

Brianna knew little about the materials or technology involved. She only had a vague sense of what it had cost to build — a figure that had stunned even her when she’d first heard it.

And yet, for all that, Westley opened it with nothing more than a single fingerprint scan.

He descended the stairs, then turned back to wave Brianna and the bodyguards down after him.

"...I can come in?"

"You can." Westley said it with something close to cheer.

Brianna had been keeping her back turned out of discretion, staring at the wall. She walked to the top of the stairs and glanced down — and immediately understood.

What had opened was only the first door into the safe room.

"The safe room runs on a zero-trust system. Getting through the doors requires multiple layers of verification. But in an emergency, you can’t stand outside running through them one by one — so the design lets you get inside a relatively secure space as fast as possible first." Westley explained at an unhurried pace. "What you’re looking at right now is nothing more than an antechamber."

The antechamber, as it happened, was equipped with a decontamination system, infrared scanners, cameras — and something resembling an elevator car.

Inside the "elevator car" was where Westley completed his verification.

Beyond the fingerprint scan, there was iris recognition, voiceprint matching, and palm-vein identification. On top of all that, Westley still had to enter a thirty-six-character randomized passcode — and even the manner of entry was tracked: the pressure of each keystroke, the speed of his finger movements, the subtle rhythms of how his hands traveled across the keypad. All of it had been recorded by the system long ago, folded into the unlock requirements as invisible personal signatures.

And even all of that was not the final failsafe.

Without warning, Westley reached out and closed his fingers around Brianna’s wrist.

She startled so hard her skin prickled — shocked and confused, and yet in the same instant, an absurd thought flickered through her mind: does Dad want to hold her hand?

When Brianna followed him through into the safe room’s main hall, she stopped dead in her tracks — and in that moment, she marshaled every shred of willpower she had to stop herself from screaming and bolting for the door.

"You remember this, don’t you?"

Westley spoke with his back to her, his voice almost light. Having just walked himself through the fortress of his own making, he seemed to be in considerably better spirits. "When you were small, I took you to the dockside warehouse to test it... Who could have imagined it would turn out to be one of the target Illusions?"

Brianna didn’t dare speak. She took two steps back without thinking, until she was nearly pressed against Dylan’s arm. She shot a quick glance around, then dropped her gaze — cold sweat was soaking through her back and pooling under her arms.

A black cube, fully open, blazing with dark energy, stood in the middle of the hall like a crack in the floor of hell with nothing left to hold it shut. Even the light that fell onto it seemed to drown and die.

Dylan slid a glance at Brianna and appeared to swallow down whatever question had surfaced in him.

The bodyguards couldn’t see the Black Cube in its open state — they hadn’t made physical contact with Westley.

"A pity the character command didn’t work back then." Westley shook his head. "Otherwise you wouldn’t have ended up the way you are today."

Brianna said nothing, because she was afraid that if she opened her mouth, she might actually be sick.

She hadn’t thought about that night inside the Black Cube in years. She had nearly managed to convince herself that she’d never been inside it at all.

All this time later, her father’s hand was around her wrist again, leading her to stand before the Black Cube. But this time, Westley’s intent was the exact opposite of what it had once been.

"The other two target Illusions are inside."

Westley said it with something close to delight.

Brianna went still.

...Inside the Black Cube? Was that what he meant?

"Say someone breaks into the safe room — you, for instance, since I’ve just let you in. Without going into the Black Cube, you can’t get to anything. And if you step into the Black Cube, you’ll be broken down into your base elements and never come back out."

Westley’s fingers were dry and stiff, like the talons of a taxidermied eagle.

"Of course, if I die, the Black Cube deactivates and reverts to its dormant state — whatever’s inside would drop out." He smiled. "But if I’m dead, then no one could have gotten into this safe room in the first place."

Westley hadn’t come this far on luck and Illusions alone — a word rose in Brianna’s mind at the same moment it left his mouth.

"Vulture might be able to. But for Vulture to become me, we’d first need extended close contact between us, wouldn’t we? Which means the creation of a ’Vulture-Westley’ couldn’t possibly be hidden from me. The moment Vulture exists, I would move into the safe room.

"And when I’m inside the safe room, the system goes into full lockdown — no external verification of any kind is permitted. So do you see now?"

Westley finally released Brianna’s wrist.

"It’s a dead triangle. One that only I can enter or exit."

He turned to look at her. "If anyone wants to take my Illusions, the only window they have is to kill me right now. But unfortunately..." He let the pause sit. "With Dylan and the others here, that’s simply not going to happen."

So that was it.

That was why Westley had agreed to tell her where the Illusions were.

This was a show of force — his way of telling her that without Westley, she was nothing.

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