Contract Marriage with My Secret Partner in Crime-Chapter 13: This Can’t Be!

The moment the lights flickered, the creatures lunged.

Eclipse barely had time to react, moving purely on instinct as she twisted her body to dodge the incoming attacks. Her knife slashed through one of the figures again, but just like before, it passed through as if slicing air.

What the hell—?!

She always forgot that her knife didn't work on them.

The creature wavered but didn't vanish completely this time. It reformed almost instantly, its glitching, flickering body snapping back into place as though the attack had never happened.

Physical attacks worked somehow, so she clenched her fist and punched it.

The impact sent a strange sensation up her arm—her skin made contact, but the texture was all wrong. Cold. Empty. A crawling sensation like static against her knuckles.

She barely stopped herself from recoiling. The feeling was disgusting.

How she wished she had another way to fight them.

Obscura, however, had no such hesitation. His baton struck one of the creatures with solid force, sending it staggering backward before dissolving into thin air.

Eclipse gritted her teeth. "Why does yours work but mine doesn't?"

Obscura didn't look up from his fight. "You're using a standard combat knife. Useless against projection-based entities unless enhanced."

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Eclipse dodged another swipe, frustration building. "Projection-based—? Are you saying these things aren't real?"

"They're controlled projections," Obscura said evenly, dodging another attack. "Holographic phantoms with some kind of physical feedback system. They only react to weapons that match their signal frequency."

Eclipse swore under her breath, sidestepping another clawed swipe. "And you didn't think to tell me this earlier?"

"I just confirmed it."

"Great." Her eyes narrowed as she dodged another attack, her mind racing. If these things were projections, that meant someone—or something—was controlling them.

And she had a pretty damn good idea of who.

The Erasers.

Whoever they were, they had turned this entire place into a death trap.

She needed a weapon that could actually hurt these things.

Her gaze darted toward the powered-down machinery around them. An idea formed.

"Cover me!" she yelled, bolting toward an abandoned maintenance locker.

Obscura didn't hesitate. He shifted his stance, his strikes landing with precision as he kept the creatures at bay.

Eclipse yanked the locker open and rummaged through it. Come on, come on—there!

Her fingers closed around a shock baton. It was an old model, but if it still worked—

She clicked the switch.

A sharp crackling sound filled the air as blue electricity arced across the baton's tip.

Perfect.

One of the flickering entities lunged at her. This time, when she swung, the baton connected.

A surge of electricity pulsed through the creature's body. It let out a distorted screech before its form violently shattered.

Eclipse grinned. "That's more like it."

Obscura spared her a glance. "Took you long enough."

She ignored him and turned back to the power node. Two more to go.

But as she reached for the console, a slow, rhythmic clapping echoed through the darkness.

Both of them froze.

Then—a voice.

Deep. Smooth. Mocking.

"Not bad," it drawled. "I was wondering how long it'd take you to figure that out."

A figure stepped forward from the shadows.

He wore a sleek black coat, the edges almost blending into the darkness behind him. A metallic mask obscured most of his face, revealing only his piercing, unnatural silver eyes.

Eclipse immediately tensed. "Who the hell—"

"Me?" The masked man tilted his head. "You can call me The Watcher."

Obscura's expression darkened. "You're the one controlling these things."

Watcher spread his hands. "What can I say? I have a fondness for art. And my mannequins—" he gestured to the flickering creatures still lingering in the shadows— "are my masterpiece."

Eclipse's grip tightened on her baton. "Mannequins? You mean these projections?"

"Oh, they're much more than that." The Watcher chuckled. "They were once real people."

Silence.

Eclipse felt the blood drain from her face. "What?"

The Watcher continued, his tone almost casual. "You've seen them, haven't you? The performers outside? The headless bride. The porcelain mask dancers. The silent zombies."

Obscura's jaw clenched. "...They weren't just actors, were they?"

Watcher's silver eyes gleamed. "Not anymore."

Eclipse felt her stomach twist.

The costumed performers they had passed—the ones standing eerily still, the ones who had nodded at them without speaking...

They weren't just wearing masks.

They had become the masks.

No. No, this was ridiculous.

This was completely, utterly insane.

She forced herself to breathe. Forced herself to think. "You're lying," she said, but her voice lacked conviction.

The Watcher took a slow step forward. "This amusement park is more than a simple attraction. It's an art gallery. Every person who enters... has the potential to become part of my collection."

Eclipse's mind raced. If what he was saying was true, then the mannequins—the projection creatures they were fighting—were once real people.

Transformed. Trapped. Controlled.

No. No, no, no. That wasn't possible.

This couldn't be possible!

Was technology really that advanced? Could something like this even exist? Was there a scientific explanation for this nightmare?

She looked at Obscura, hoping for some kind of rational counterargument, some logical explanation to ground her in reality. But his expression was unreadable.

"You expect us to believe that?" she demanded. "That people were—what? Turned into projections? Puppets?"

Watcher smiled beneath his mask. "Believe whatever you like. It changes nothing."

Obscura's voice was ice. "How do we stop them?"

Watcher chuckled. "Oh, that's the fun part. You can't."

He raised his hand.

Instantly, the remaining mannequins lurched forward, their glitching forms becoming sharper, faster, stronger.

And then—the walls began to shift.

Panels slid open, revealing rows of mannequins standing lifelessly inside glass cases.

Hundreds of them.

Their blank eyes snapped toward Eclipse and Obscura in unison.

Eclipse's breath caught in her throat.

No. This wasn't happening.

She gripped her baton so tightly her fingers ached, but she couldn't move. Couldn't think.

How were they supposed to fight this many? How were they supposed to win?

The Watcher took another step forward, his silver eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Now then," he whispered, "shall we continue the game?"