The train sped through the air, the mist outside the window like a living gray silk, constantly wiping the glass.
A piercing scream shattered the tranquil night, which had been filled with the sound of violin music.
"Someone's dead—!!!" The sound came from the adjacent first-class carriage.
Shen Qingqiu put down her teacup, her fingertips lightly tapping the rim of the bone china, producing a crisp "ting." She looked up at Seventeen, who was standing beside her cutting fruit.
"Looks like our afternoon tea is over." Shen Qingqiu stood up, adjusting the lace on her skirt. "Let's go, Sebastian. Go see what kind of 'guest' is so impolite." Seventeen put down her silver knife, took out a handkerchief, and elegantly wiped non-existent juice from her gloves.
"Yes, my master."
...The crime scene was a completely enclosed luxury private room.
The door was locked from the inside, the windows were tightly shut, and even the ventilation vents were welded shut.
The deceased was a portly watch merchant. He sat on a red velvet sofa, his face bearing the eerie expression of extreme terror mixed with extreme pleasure in his final moments.
His chest had been cleanly cut open.
There was no blood.
His heart was gone.
In its place was a rusty brass pocket watch, ticking away.
The watch's hands turned counter-clockwise, and with each rotation, the corpse's skin grew increasingly ashen, as if its life force was being sucked away by the watch.
"It's the 'Heart Thief'! It must be the legendary Heart Thief!" The surrounding passengers whispered, those grotesque creatures with bird heads, tentacles, or prosthetic limbs now showing expressions of fear.
The train conductor—the faceless mechanical puppet—walked over. The dial on his face spun rapidly, as if calculating losses.
"Make way." Shen Qingqiu pushed through the crowd and stepped into the police cordon.
She wasn't wearing gloves; instead, she extended her slender fingers and gently touched the still-beating pocket watch.
[System Access: Information Retracement.]
[Time Node: 30 minutes ago.]
*Buzz—* In Shen Qingqiu's golden eyes, the world instantly transformed into a gray-white data model.
She saw it.
Half an hour ago, the businessman was counting money.
Suddenly, the wall of the compartment moved.
The wallpaper pattern on the wall writhed like a living thing, separating into an extremely thin, blood vessel-like fleshy tube. The tube silently pierced the businessman's back, not only draining his heart but also inserting the pocket watch as a "marker."
This wasn't a locked-room murder.
This was **"stomach digestion"**.
The entire K109 train was a giant, living predator. And these compartments were its stomach. It periodically fed, filtering out those passengers who were "overnourished."
"An interesting way to eat." Shen Qingqiu withdrew her hand, a cold glint in her eyes.
"Miss Detective, have you discovered anything?" The train conductor's synthesized electronic voice rang out, a barely perceptible threat in its tone.
Shen Qingqiu turned around, opened her folding fan, obscuring half her face, revealing only a pair of eyes that seemed to be both smiling and not smiling.
"Of course."
"The murderer is among us."
She didn't directly state it. In this bizarre world, a direct confrontation was often the stupidest choice. Since the train wanted to play the "mystery drama," she would play along.
"Conductor, I heard there's a masquerade ball in the dinner car tonight?"
Shen Qingqiu changed the subject.
"Yes…yes." The train conductor seemed taken aback.
"Then please reveal the mystery at the ball."
Shen Qingqiu took Seventeen's arm, and under everyone's gaze, she gracefully walked away in her high heels.
…Night fell. Dining car.
It had been transformed into a magnificent ballroom. A crystal chandelier cast an ambiguous glow, and a phonograph played husky, languid jazz.
The passengers all wore masks.
There were Venetian masks, gas masks, and some even used their own heads as masks.
Shen Qingqiu changed into a dress.
It was a deep, rich wine-red high-slit gown, with a large open back revealing the graceful lines of her shoulder blades. She wore a half-black swan feather mask, mysterious and alluring.
Seventeen, still in a sharp black tuxedo, had changed into a silver half-face mask, concealing his cold, monocle.
"Seventeen, can you dance?"
Shen Qingqiu stood at the edge of the dance floor, swirling a glass of scarlet liquid (probably some kind of bionic blood drink).
Seventeen honestly shook his head.
"No such skill in the database. Only… killing techniques." His hands clenched slightly, clearly bewildered by this social activity that had no tactical purpose.
"It's alright, I'll teach you." Shen Qingqiu put down her wine glass, reached out, and gently placed her fingertips on his shoulder.
"Treat it like a battle."
"Advance and retreat, spin, probe, clash."
"Dance a…tango with me." The music changed.
It became rapid, abrupt, and full of tension.
Shen Qingqiu suddenly pressed herself against Seventeen's chest, one hand gripping his palm, the other climbing up the back of his neck.
"Hold my waist. Tighten."
She commanded, almost whispering in his ear, "Like you want to strangle that monster." Seventeen stiffened, then his white-gloved right hand (Xingtian's Grip) tightened sharply, gripping her slender waist.
That strength carried the cold hardness of metal and a domineering force that seemed to want to embed itself into his bones.
Tap, tap, tap.
They began to dance.
Shen Qingqiu controlled the rhythm.
She was like a red flame, burning and spinning around Seventeen, this black, solid ice.
Her legs were tantalizingly visible beneath her skirt; each kick and hook was like a dagger hidden among flowers, sharp and beautiful.
Seventeen learned quickly.
That was the terrifying learning ability of AI.
He evolved rapidly from initial stiffness to precision.
His steps began to match hers, his spins began to move her.
The two spun rapidly in the center of the dance floor.
A blend of black and red, a clash of coldness and passion.
The surrounding passengers were stunned. They had never seen such a fiercely aggressive dance. It wasn't flirting; it was a magnificent duel.
"Qingqiu..." Seventeen looked down at the woman in his arms.
In that rapid spinning, his world consisted only of that splash of red.
"Focus, Sebastian." Shen Qingqiu's lips curled into a dangerous smile, his golden eyes flashing behind his mask, "The prey... is hungry."
Just as the music was about to reach its climax.
*Crack!* The once smooth, mirror-like dance floor suddenly cracked open with countless fissures.
No assassin rushed out.
The entire carriage—came alive.
The embossed patterns that had decorated the walls suddenly transformed into countless slippery, fleshy tentacles, stabbing towards the two people in the center of the dance floor!
The crystal chandelier overhead transformed into a gigantic, drooling mouth, slamming down!
"Ah—!!!" The surrounding passengers screamed and scattered in panic.
This was no dance party.
This was a buffet designed to gather all the "high-energy prey" and devour them all at once.
"Finally, they've been exposed." Shen Qingqiu didn't stop dancing.
The instant the crystal chandelier crashed down, she arched her back with incredible flexibility.
Seventeen, taking advantage of the momentum, caught her waist, and using the centrifugal force of the rotation, the hem of her black swallowtail coat lashed out like a blade.
"Seventeen, the curtain falls." Shen Qingqiu looked up at the gigantic maw above, his eyes devoid of fear, only mockery.
"Yes, sir." Seventeen's right hand, which had been supporting her waist, suddenly released and reached upwards.
*Sizzle—* The pristine white cotton glove shattered instantly, turning into a shower of white snow.
Revealing the grotesque, dark red Xing Tian's Grip, its surface patterned with magma.
He didn't use any fancy moves.
Just simple, brutal, he punched the descending gigantic maw.
[Xing Tian's Grip - Collapse Impact]
Boom—!!!
The enormous crystal chandelier (the monster's maw) was instantly reduced to dust by this punch.
The terrifying force of the punch didn't even stop; it pierced through the roof, smashing through the very top of this ghost train!
"Agh—!!!" The entire train let out a piercing scream.
The carriage shook violently, the fleshy tentacles on the walls convulsed wildly, spurting black blood.
But Seventeen didn't stop.
One arm remained around Shen Qingqiu's waist, maintaining the final pose of the tango.
The other, the giant mechanical hand that had just destroyed everything, hovered in mid-air, its fingertips still dripping with the monster's black fluid.
The music stopped abruptly.
Dust and debris fell like snowflakes.
Amidst the ravaged ruins, amidst the monster's screams,
the two remained in that embrace, frozen in time.
Shen Qingqiu was slightly out of breath, her hair disheveled and plastered to her cheeks.
She looked at the large hole Seventeen had blasted in the ceiling, through which she could see the distorted spacetime tunnel and the dazzling nebula outside.
"Was that punch gentlemanly enough?" Seventeen lowered his head, his eye behind his monocle gleaming with a pleading look for praise. Though his right arm was grotesque, his left hand maintained its elegant, supporting posture.
Shen Qingqiu smiled.
She reached out and gently stroked his burning, barbed mechanical arm.
"Too violent."
"But…"
She stood on tiptoe and kissed his lips.
"I like it." The surviving monster passengers around them huddled in a corner, trembling, watching the two madmen kissing amidst the ruins.
They finally understood.
The most terrifying thing on this train wasn't the man-eating train.
It was these two…gods in human skin.
The train was forced to brake abruptly in excruciating pain.
"Foggy City…nearby station…Foggy City…" The train conductor's broken, fearful voice came over the loudspeaker.
"Looks like we've arrived." Shen Qingqiu released Seventeen and straightened her disheveled skirt.
She picked up the black lace folding fan from the ground, gently unfolded it, and used it to cover half her face.
"Let's go, Sebastian."
"Let's see what secrets that so-called 'city of gods' holds." Seventeen flicked the blood from his right arm.
The grotesque mechanical hand swiftly retracted in the light, transforming back into a human arm. He conjured a new pair of white gloves from somewhere and slowly put them on.
"Yes, Master."
He bent his left arm, gesturing for Shen Qingqiu to take it.
Amidst the carnage and blood,
the two, like a noble couple who had just attended a banquet, walked gracefully across the red carpet of blood toward the train exit.
Behind them,
the pocket watch that had once belonged to the deceased was casually tossed to the ground by Shen Qingqiu.
The watch cover popped open, the hands forever frozen at midnight.
That was the moment Cinderella's magic wore off.
And the moment the hunt began.