When the green bird's claws touched the back of her hand, the gear pattern suddenly began to rotate, meshing with the hourglass mark with a microscopic click. Ache stared down at the moving mark, the metal button at the back of her neck beginning to heat up again—the same feeling she always got when Mobius was about to reveal crucial information. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms, her knuckles turning white from the strain. She forced herself to remain calm: This time, she must remember every detail. She couldn't let the rules of the dimension manipulate her like a puppet. She instinctively pulled the gear feather out of her pocket and repeatedly traced the ridges along its edge with her fingertips, trying to deepen her memory through touch.

"The cycle is different this time," Mobius' voice was damp with morning dew. The green bird tilted its head and stared in the direction of the village, the gears on its tail feathers trembling slightly.

Ache followed its gaze, her heart twitching. She quickly crouched down, using the straw as cover to move two steps forward for a better view. Instead of cotton candy-like white smoke, the chimneys of the village emitted gray-black columns, like countless pencils stuck upside down, tracing rigid paths across the orange sky. Even stranger, the smoke didn't disperse in the air. Instead, it condensed into a giant hourglass shape, slowly rotating. The scene reminded her of the hospital monitors, the solemn expression that always crossed the doctor's face when the data stream became a straight line. She raised her hand to press the metal button at the back of her neck. The temperature there was rising, like a small spark swimming under her skin.

"They're locking down the entire dimension." Mobius suddenly flapped its wings and took flight, the gears on its silver chain tail feathers gleaming in the sunlight. "Follow me, to the operating table in the church crypt—there's the clue we've missed."

Ache clenched the gear feather in her palm. This time, it was heavier than the previous two, its edges engraved with fine lines, like some kind of map. She followed the green bird, hunched over as she crossed the wheat field, her trouser legs quickly soaked by the wheat leaves below the knees. She noticed that the wheat ears were unusually tall today, their stalks dotted with eye-shaped spots, their rolling eyeballs fixed fixedly on her back. She quickened her pace, swinging her arms slightly at her sides, as nimbly as if dodging obstacles in real-life gym class, trying to shake off the creeping gazes.

"Don't look back," Mobius's voice was extremely low, its wings circling overhead as if escorting her. "These are 'Memory Watchers,' plants contaminated during yesterday's reset." It suddenly swooped down, its wings precisely striking off a falling wheat leaf—the leaf suddenly unfolded before hitting the ground, revealing a network of blood vessels within, like a miniature hand. Che took the opportunity to sidestep past a particularly tall clump of wheat ears, the stalks brushing against her shoulder, leaving a cool touch.