History of Consciousness

"Bang!"

A burst of flame erupted from the refrigerator door. The thick door twisted and shrank as if a vacuum had sucked out all the air, releasing a thick cloud of white vapor from inside.

The massive refrigerator shook, struggling against the force of the explosion. But it finally gave way, crashing to the ground, spilling shelves and cylindrical containers in a messy heap.

More explosions followed.

Thankfully, Hua Hongxiao was separated from the lab by a thick glass wall. It seemed sturdy, containing both the shockwave and most of the sound.

Hongxiao curled up on the floor, unsure of what would happen next.

A group of men in black suits emerged from the nearby elevator. They immediately spotted the laboratory through the glass wall, where refrigerators exploded and toppled one by one. They sprinted along the wall, shouting, "Allez! Allez!"

No one noticed Hongxiao, lying on the floor near the elevator doors.

Then, a sharp sound rang out from a distance. It seemed to bypass the glass wall, likely coming from outside the lab.

The impact made Hongxiao's ears ring. He instinctively covered them as a barrage of sharp sounds followed, each one like a hammer pounding against his heart. He felt nauseous, wanting to stand but too afraid to remove his hands from his ears.

With effort, he managed to get to his feet, glancing back at the open elevator. Like a drowning man spotting a lifeline, he stumbled in, every muscle urging him to press the button to escape this madness.

He reached out and pressed the top button.

In that split-second his right ear was unprotected, a series of rapid bangs assaulted him, leaving him nearly deaf. He quickly covered his ear again, relieved as the elevator doors began to close.

But just as they were about to shut completely, a bloodied hand shot between them, forcing the doors open. Hongxiao froze. He recognized the face behind that hand.

A wide forehead, thin brows.

It was him. The murderer. The man who had killed his grandfather.

The man's clothes were torn, blood oozing from multiple wounds. He stumbled into the elevator, collapsing against Hongxiao. Instinctively, Hongxiao pushed him away with all his strength, trying to shove him back out.

But the man held fast, one hand clutching Hongxiao's shirt, the other holding a gleaming gun aimed at Hongxiao.

Terror-stricken, Hongxiao grabbed the man's hand, desperately trying to push it away.

A loud bang. Sparks flew.

Hongxiao felt a sharp jolt as something hot and metallic struck his face, the smell of gunpowder filling the air.

"Did I… get shot? Am I… dying?"

Fury and despair welled up within Hongxiao. He fought for control of the gun, clawing and kicking, their bodies slamming repeatedly against the elevator walls.

Though not a natural fighter, Hongxiao had a height advantage from his early growth spurt and learned how to position himself to take advantage of this when he occasionally fought other kids back at middle school. Now, in this brutal struggle, he found that dominant position again, using a headlock to keep the injured man pinned beneath him.

But the man's grip on the gun remained unyielding.

In the heat of the struggle, Hongxiao's finger brushed against the trigger. He felt the gun wasn't pointed at him, so he pulled it with all his might.

Another deafening bang.

The man's body shuddered violently, a scream escaping his lips. His hands suddenly went slack, and he collapsed lifelessly to the floor.

Hongxiao stood there, panting, clutching the blood-smeared gun. Blood trickled from the man's chest and mouth as he stared blankly at Hongxiao, his eyes flashing with a strange, dying spark.

"I… have been witnessed. You… are all… sinners…" The voice faded until there was nothing but silence.

Hongxiao could still hear the sounds of gunfire outside, though it seemed less intense now.

Did I… kill him? Did I… really kill someone?

Footsteps echoed from the elevator doorway.

Hongxiao instinctively raised the gun, aiming it at the entrance.

A group of people in protective suits appeared, their suits speckled with blood.

One of them gasped, "Hua! What are you doing here?" The voice was familiar. A girl with arched eyebrows. Wasn't that Debbie, the Mexican student he'd been drinking with last night?

Hongxiao looked at her in shock.

At that moment, someone pressed a button. The elevator door began to close just as bullets clanged against it, causing sparks to fly. But the door held, sealing them inside.

As the elevator ascended, Hongxiao noticed more familiar faces. Beside Debbie were "Rodman" from Russia and "Baggio" from Italy—the students he'd been drinking with the previous night.

Why are they here? And in this underground lab?

"He's been mistaken for the Mill," said another voice, sending a chill through Hua. It was familiar yet distant, like a cold breeze that had swept through his heart countless times.

He looked over to see a figure in a protective suit, facing the door, long, obsidian-like hair draped over her shoulders.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr. Hua," laughed Rodman, using the same joking title he'd used the night before.

"Is this the new guy from the Yang family? Is he dead?" Baggio knelt beside the fallen man, inspecting him.

Hongxiao nodded mechanically.

The elevator slowed, about to stop.

"Are there more of them outside?" Debbie asked, worried.

"According to Pierre, there aren't many left on this floor. They're more concerned with keeping the underground secrets hidden," came that familiar voice.

When the doors opened, they exited in a rush. Baggio dragged the body to block the elevator doors from closing.

"Now they can't follow us up," he said with a grin.

"Should we go up?" Hongxiao asked, knowing there was a hidden staircase leading to the surface on this floor.

"We can't go up. Above us is the Pope's crypt, a tourist attraction," the familiar voice explained.

Debbie walked over to a table, tapping something that caused another door to slide open on the wall opposite the elevator. Beyond lay a long, dimly lit corridor stretching into darkness.

How many hidden doors does this place have? Hongxiao wondered as he ran alongside the others, while they were shedding their protective suits.

"Hurry up!" The familiar figure turned to him, calling out in Chinese.

Hua's heart skipped a beat. It was her. Tong!

Even with her face half-obscured by tangled hair, her eyes shone with a bright, serene beauty, like a lake sparkling under the autumn sun.

Hongxiao picked up his pace, chasing after her.

The corridor's smooth stone floor quickly gave way to rough, uneven dirt, making it harder to keep up. A hand reached out from the darkness, grabbing his arm, pulling him forward.

A door loomed at the corridor's end, thick and reinforced. Someone dashed ahead, pressing a sequence of buttons beside it.

With a creak, the door slowly cracked open, letting in a stream of light.

Before he could fully adjust, Hongxiao felt a hand tighten around his arm, yanking him out into the open.

Through squinting eyes, he saw trees and grass. Was that birdsong? Or just the ringing in his ears?

"Get in!" someone shouted.

A camouflage-patterned jeep sat hidden among the trees, branches strewn over it. The group piled in, and as soon as Hongxiao was dragged inside, the jeep roared to life, careening down the rough mountain road.

The jostling ride left Hongxiao queasy, barely holding on as they sped along. In the front were Debbie and Tong. Baggio and Rodman sat beside him in the back.

"Where are we taking Mr. Hua?" Rodman shouted.

"He's coming with us to Paris," Tong replied. "From there, he'll rejoin his classmates and leave France tomorrow."

"Was it really Hua who located the factory?" Baggio asked. "Through consciousness linkage?"

"Yes," Tong answered curtly.

"That's incredible! Mr. Hua, we owe you one. Though I didn't expect you'd be caught up in our mission." Rodman chuckled, as if it were all a joke.

"They… they dragged me in," Hongxiao stammered, his stomach churning.

"But you ended up killing their new leader. Impressive!" Rodman laughed.

Killing? Hongxiao never thought he could be connected to such a word. He doubled over, vomiting the remnants of his lunch onto Baggio's boots.

"Is this your first time? You'll get used to it," Baggio chuckled, giving Hongxiao a reassuring pat on the back.

Hongxiao slumped back, dazed.

Is this a dream or reality? Am I in someone else's consciousness, or my own?

Did I really enter an underground lab? Did I… really kill someone?

I'm just a college freshman! How did I get pulled into all this violence and secrecy?

How did any of this happen?