The Colors in Flight

Only a few steps in, Zheng Wuyou—already bruised black and blue from bumping into things—looked down in pain at the fresh shadow on her elbow.

If only this perspective effect could be added to a game!

She could only grope her way forward, like a blind man trying to understand an elephant.

Countdown: 00:13:21

The countdown on her palm was still ticking.

But why did turning into two dimensions leave her three-dimensional senses unaffected?

It still hurt!

What kind of stupid setting was this?

"...I think I found something that doesn't quite fit in this world."

Ben Yu murmured to himself, his tone carrying a hint of confusion and curiosity.

Ben Yu had been having a remarkably smooth time of it. In just a minute, he had already searched through four overhead cabinets, each with nothing but a black dot for a handle.

In the end, beneath a window with no azure sky outside, he found a box labeled "oil paintbrushes."

Apart from the title on the ceiling,

it was the only thing in this world with writing on it.

The discovery struck him as both strange and reasonable.

They were inside a black-and-white world that had been drawn, yet here was a box of colorful paintbrushes.

The contradiction set Ben Yu thinking. Could this world be more than just a painting?

Just then, he suddenly felt everyone's eyes turn toward him.

They came from all directions, including the wavy-haired woman who hadn't moved at all.

Ben Yu's heart tightened. At a loss, he suddenly noticed three huge black question marks appearing above his head.

They seemed to mock his ignorance and confusion, making him feel utterly embarrassed.

What was going on?

Had a tiny question of his really made such enormous question marks appear over his head?

Wasn't this embarrassing enough already?

Zheng Wuyou, who had noticed the discovery, watched the question marks gradually appear above Ben Yu's head with delight, secretly pleased. "You found it!"

"Hey, how hard could it be? It's like a little kids' game."

Seeing this, the curly-haired woman promptly got up from the warm bed and shot Yuan Ling an unconcerned glance.

Then she strode lightly toward Ben Yu, who was holding the oil paintbrushes, her expression smug.

While everyone's attention was fixed on the paintbrushes in Ben Yu's hand, no one noticed the black lines of shadow behind them gradually disappearing.

It was as if... the owner wasn't satisfied with the painting

and had picked up an eraser.

What did a box of oil paintbrushes have to do with the honey of dreams?

Seeing that the countdown on her palm hadn't ended, Yuan Ling knew better than to celebrate too soon. She immediately nudged Zheng Wuyou with her elbow and gestured for her to look at her palm.

She had no time to bother with that woman who only knew how to stir up trouble.

While waiting for Zheng Wuyou to think, she continued scanning their surroundings, hoping to spot some other change.

"Wuyou, do you think the black in that corner has gotten lighter?"

Unsure whether it was just her imagination, Yuan Ling worried that her eyes had grown unreliable after spending too long in a black-and-white environment, so she rubbed them.

But when she opened them again, the darkness was clearly different from what it had been before.

More and more white was slowly spreading out from that corner, like growing vines.

Zheng Wuyou turned to see Yuan Ling's arms sweeping back and forth across her face, then looked toward the corner she had mentioned.

This wasn't Yuan Ling's imagination.

The entire room was disappearing!

If one corner of a painting suddenly faded until all that remained was a blank canvas, what would that mean?

Obviously,

it meant everyone would disappear from here...

along with the room.

"What do oil paintbrushes have to do with the honey of dreams?!"

Zheng Wuyou pulled Yuan Ling toward Ben Yu, keeping as far as she could from the corner that was falling apart, while frowning and muttering to herself.

The last time she'd tackled an open-ended puzzle like this was when she and Yuan Ling had gone to play an escape-room mystery game.

"Wait, Wuyou, I get it. If a child painted this, then the surface meaning here lies in the oil paintbrushes. The child needs colored brushes to add more colors. If there's an object with a deeper meaning, then it must be something that needs color to turn it into the honey of dreams."

Yuan Ling's two sentences brought Zheng Wuyou to the answer. She hadn't expected to overlook the most basic logic.

Since the oil paintbrushes didn't fit in, they should start with them.

In the end, having someone she cared about here was what had made her lose her head.

"Got it."

Zheng Wuyou's eyes lit up. She released Yuan Ling, whom she had been holding, and headed straight for Ben Yu.

Seeing the two of them coming, Ben Yu shoved away the curly-haired woman who was clinging tightly to his side and the man in the checkered shirt, then handed the oil paintbrushes to Zheng Wuyou.

"Ben Yu! What are the most basic things you use these colors to paint? Don't overthink the design—just use the simplest color scheme!"

Zheng Wuyou glanced back anxiously at the corner, now completely erased. All that remained was a glaring expanse of white. She urged Ben Yu to hurry.

Ben Yu was puzzled about why she had suddenly asked him to paint, but he did as she said.

He glanced at the colors in the box, looked around, picked up the first paintbrush, and quickly and evenly spread color across the view beyond the colorless window.

The sky?

The sky outside the window? Was that the honey of dreams?

Or was it what the protagonist yearned for?

Zheng Wuyou didn't bother overthinking it. She called everyone over to take a paintbrush. Anyone who could manage even one stroke joined in.

The curly-haired woman watched them with bored disdain. Just as she'd thought—children playing pretend, even painting pictures.

"Tch, I don't believe blue skies and white clouds will really appear once you finish." Leaning against the wall a short distance away, the woman watched the two elderly people hunched over their work with derision.

Who would've thought these two old folks would be enjoying themselves, too?

The youth with lip piercing, who knew he wasn't good at painting, heard her remark and gave her a look that said he didn't want to be around an idiot.

He glared at her, then walked past the two of them and stood behind the busy group, watching the room for any changes.

"Should we go help them, too?"

The man in the checkered shirt was a little afraid of the youth with lip piercing. He looked at the beautiful woman behind him, her hands tucked into her pockets, and asked hesitantly.

After all, everyone else was doing it. Maybe there was some logic to it?

"Help with what? Are you a child, too? We should be figuring out how to get them to let us out, not putting on some hocus-pocus show." The curly-haired woman arrogantly walked over to the white bench where Zheng Wuyou had been sitting. With a chestful of anger and nowhere to vent it, she dropped herself onto the bench.

As everyone raced against time, concentrating on filling in the lines beyond the window, they heard a scream that sounded both male and female.

Then a sharp cry for help behind them suddenly cut off.

Everyone jumped and turned toward the sound.

They saw a streak of bright red spreading across the white bench, whose shape could no longer be made out.

Like a rose about to bloom,

it burst forth in this black-and-white world.

Vivid red blossomed amid the black and white...

strikingly beautiful...