I thought the scent of fire would make him back down, make him stop. I was wrong. A beast cornered by its weakness strikes back harder, madder, deadlier.
The next evening, I opened my door to get some fresh air, and there, on the doorstep, sat a bag of trash—unsealed, the top open, a strange odor drifting out. Not the stench, not the clear fragrance, but an indescribable sickly sweetness, like a sedative, like a poison. I inhaled a single whiff, and the world spun. Hallucinations flashed before my eyes at once—the orphanage fire, burning again, flames shooting to the sky, thick smoke billowing, the cries of children ringing in my ears. I saw people running, falling, reaching for me from the fire.
Dizziness washed over me, my legs buckling. I barely kept from falling, nausea and panic and suffocation gripping me. This scent had hallucinogenic effects. Zhou Yan had gone mad. He was fighting back with a hallucinatory scent, trying to make me live in hallucinations, in pain, just like him.
I clung to consciousness and crawled back into the apartment, slamming the door shut, closing the windows, turning on the ventilation to full blast. I splashed cold water on my face, over and over. The hallucinations faded a little, but the scent clung to the doorway, impossible to dispel, a leech on my bones.
I knew I had to counter it, to collect its components, to fight back. I grabbed a scent test paper, clutched it tight, took a deep breath to push back the hallucinations, and quietly opened the door a crack, shoving the test paper close to the trash bag and snatching it back at once. I closed the door and locked it, slumping to the floor. I held the test paper and struggled to identify the odor— the hallucinogenic components were special, a mix of several hallucinogenic plant essences and the volatile scent of a sedative commonly used by forensic pathologists. I memorized it, every note, every trace, not a single detail missed.
I set to work at once, using the spices in the house to brew an antidote spray, to neutralize the hallucinogenic components, to suppress the neurological hallucinations. I sprayed it on my body, in the apartment. Minutes later, the hallucinations vanished completely. My head stopped spinning, my eyes cleared.
I stared at the antidote spray, then at the sample of the hallucinatory scent in my hand. A wild thought bloomed: upgrade the weapon. I mixed the hallucinogenic scent with the fire spice powder, creating a new weapon—one that could both shatter his psychological weakness and induce mild hallucinations, disrupting his rhythm, destroying his calm.
I refilled the cloth bag with the new spice powder. This time, I was no longer on the defensive. I would take the offensive. Zhou Yan. You hurt me with a hallucinatory scent. I will return it to you, eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth.