The rain fell in whispering sheets as the private jet taxied down a silent runway on the outskirts of Vienna.
Inside the dim cabin, Liang Ruoxi sat with her arms folded, a scarf wrapped tightly around her neck—not for fashion, but for concealment. A new identity passport rested in her lap: Chen Yuyan, age 26, corporate translator. Zeyan's new alias was Han Zhihao, regional export manager.
"I still hate fake names," she muttered.
Zeyan chuckled beside her. "You're already living a half-faked life. Might as well blend in."
She shot him a glare, but the corner of her mouth twitched. "Charming."
Across from them sat Lin Qian—Linyue—who now knew her name but still wore it cautiously, like an outfit she wasn't sure fit anymore.
She hadn't said much since boarding the plane. Not since she'd woken up screaming the night before.
"I remembered something," she had told them through pale lips. "A white corridor. Glass chambers. People in coats… and someone whispering, 'You're the control batch, not the outcome.'"
It was clear now: Linyue had never just been a casualty. She'd been part of the system long before the fire.
Ruoxi reached across the aisle and gently squeezed her hand. "We're not letting them erase you again."
Lin Qian gave a small nod, but her eyes didn't lift.
Their destination wasn't just Switzerland. It was a ghost facility buried beneath Montreux—the alleged birthplace of the Firebird Protocol.
It had been quietly reopened six months ago under a corporate grant registered to a dummy company: Novae Vitae Corp.
The encryption key?
Linyue's DNA.
Which meant whoever reactivated it… either had access to her samples—or was her.
But Lin Qian was sitting right here.
Meanwhile, back in City S, Mo Corporation's internal servers buzzed to life in the dead of night.
Someone in a black hoodie, face lit only by their laptop screen, typed rapidly from within a sealed records room on the 26th floor.
Lines of code filtered through secured project folders labeled:
"Project Twin Flame — Phase Three.""Asset Reclamation List.""Subject R07: AWOL.""Subject R02: Emergent."
The hacker paused, then opened one more file:
"PRIMARY TARGET: Ruoxi // Status: Awaiting Retrieval."
They typed a final command:
RECALL REJECTED.
Then slipped out of the building, unnoticed.
Back on the ground in Montreux, the trio checked into a small alpine inn under aliases. Lin Qian remained upstairs resting, while Ruoxi and Zeyan sat across from each other in a booth at the local café.
"Explain it again," Ruoxi said, keeping her voice low.
Zeyan leaned in. "The Project didn't just create clones. It split identities—memories, emotional imprints, biological traits. Each prototype had a piece of the original soul."
"Like fragmenting a hard drive."
"Exactly. And Firebird Protocol was the failsafe. If any prototype became unstable, the system would recall the memory fragments and rebuild the original—no matter how many bodies it took."
Ruoxi's stomach turned. "So Prototype 1 was... incomplete. And Prototype 2…"
He hesitated.
"She might be the version designed to replace you. Fully. No emotion, no independence. Just a vessel to continue the illusion."
Ruoxi stared into her untouched cup of tea. "And me?"
"You were the outlier," he said. "You gained consciousness. Self-identity. That's why you're dangerous to them."
She looked at him then. "And what if I told you I'm scared I am just a vessel pretending to be a person?"
Zeyan reached across the table and took her hand without hesitation.
"Then I'd tell you I've never met anyone more human than you."
Her eyes shimmered.
But before she could respond, her phone buzzed.
Unknown Sender:
Check Room 302. She's not asleep anymore.
Ruoxi stood instantly. "Lin Qian—"
They raced back to the inn. The hallway to Room 302 was eerily silent.
Zeyan drew his sidearm. "Stay behind me."
He pushed the door open—
And found the room empty.
The window was wide open, curtains flapping like wings.
But what chilled Ruoxi wasn't that Lin Qian was missing.
It was the writing on the mirror—drawn in lipstick.
"Only one flame survives."
Two hours later, they were back at a rented safe house. Zeyan reviewed CCTV footage from surrounding streets.
"We've got movement," he said. "Lin Qian was seen entering the botanical tunnel at Montreux Station. She wasn't alone."
He froze the frame.
Ruoxi stepped forward—and felt her knees weaken.
The woman leading Lin Qian away wore white.
Identical to Linyue. But the smile was all wrong.
"She's not Lin Qian," Ruoxi whispered. "She's the reconstruction. Prototype 2... or maybe even something worse."
Zeyan nodded grimly. "They've activated Reclaim Protocol. They're trying to overwrite the original... with a synthetic one."
Ruoxi looked out the window. The Alps stretched in the distance—cold, vast, and silent.
"We're not letting them."
Far beneath Montreux, Prototype 2 opened her eyes.
Linyue's voice echoed in her mind.
But it was never her voice.
It was programmed.
"You are the original," a machine had whispered once. "You must reclaim the fire."
She stood up, eyes glowing faintly in the dark.
"The false one must burn."