That day, the rain came down in merciless sheets.
In the depths of a forgotten alley, a young man in his early twenties lay sprawled in the mud. His face had been beaten so badly it was barely recognizable, his breath ragged and shallow. Blood mingled with the rain, soaking through the tatters of his clothes.
Then, through the drumming of water, came the steady rhythm of approaching footsteps.
A shadow fell over him. When he forced his swollen eyes open, he saw a young woman standing there, her expression as unreadable as the storm clouds above.
"Let me guess," she said flatly, "you're having a bad day."
The man tried to answer, but only coughed up blood.
Without a hint of urgency, Mei crouched beside him and pulled out a small vial filled with an iridescent liquid. "You know, they say saving a life is like building a thousand bridges. But really, who's counting?"
She dangled the vial just beyond his reach, her tone languid, almost bored. "So. Do you want to live, or not?"
When he failed to answer, Mei shrugged. "Figures." She placed the vial in his trembling hand. "Drink it, or not. Makes no difference to me."
She rose, already turning to leave. "Good luck with… whatever this is."
And just like that, she walked away, leaving him sprawled in the storm, his fate as uncertain as the thunder overhead.
The young man stared at the vial. Summoning the last of his strength, he crawled toward it, clutching it as though it were salvation. The liquid shimmered faintly inside.
That color…
It doesn't matter what it is.
With a deep, shuddering breath, he tore the lid off and tipped it back.
Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.
"Cough—!"
The taste hit him like poison. Fishy. Bitter. Thick, like mucus and bile dragged up from a dead fish's gut.
"Ugh—ah, gross!"
He gagged, but nothing came up. His body seized, trembling violently as though possessed.
"Ah—what… what is this?!"
His screams split the rain-soaked alley.
…
Across the street, beneath the awning of a shuttered shop, Mei stood dry and calm, scrolling on her cellphone.
"Judging from the reaction, it's safe to say the subject won't die immediately," she muttered, tapping notes into her screen.
"Second experiment: deep-sea fish combined with black dog's blood. Resulting potion is clear and luminous. Ingestion induces growth of scales and gills, along with varying degrees of spinal and rib distortion."
"Other properties remain untested. First field trial conducted on a rainy day."
She typed one final line: Number 002: The Deep One.
"Remember that for future reference."
Snapping her phone shut, she turned slightly. "001, keep an eye on your new friend."
A crow perched on the awning yawned lazily before spreading its wings and vanishing into the night sky.
"Tch. Such a hassle," Mei muttered, slipping the phone into her pocket. "I didn't come here to babysit."
…
Beiling City.
In an old house across from the police station, Mei pushed open the door, peeling off her raincoat. "The rainy season's perfect. Even a cigarette run can turn into a new experiment."
She kicked off her soaked shoes and headed for the kitchen.
Beside the stove sat a ceramic vase with a devil's face and two grotesque ears. Fish scales littered the cutting board next to it.
Mei pulled out her cellphone and scrolled through her older notes.
"About a month ago, I picked up this odd vase from a street vendor. Half a month later, my parrot fell into it and vanished. When I dumped it out, all that remained was a pool of blood."
"This blood-water carries no DNA sequence. From every angle, it cannot be called blood."
"Out of curiosity, I let my hamster drink some. It sprouted gray wings and started mimicking human speech like a parrot."
"Then I tossed the hamster into the vase. Just like the bird, it too became nothing but blood."
That was when a more daring thought took shape.
She had dropped in a sheep's brain, a chameleon, and a chrysalis, mixing the slurry into the liquid. Then she fed it to her final pet: a raven.
After drinking, the raven's intelligence began to climb. Its feathers regained their sheen, its eyes grew sharper—and its moods turned strangely crustacean.
Yet aside from those changes, it remained physically the same.
From then on, Mei began deliberately teaching it. Language. Patterns. Knowledge of every kind.
Remarkably, the Raven proved to be a prodigy. Within a single day it had mastered human language, holding conversations with Mei as if it had spoken all its life.
Five days later, the unimaginable happened.
The Raven transformed—into Mei herself.
That's right. It took on her human form.
The metamorphosis lasted only briefly at first, a passing imitation. Mei even found it amusing. But one morning, she awoke to find Raven lying beside her in bed, clinging to her tightly—while wearing Mei's exact face.
Her first instinct was to escape, but the Raven's strength was overwhelming. Only by pinching its stomach with sudden force did she manage to make it stir. The Raven woke instantly and released her. While Mei was still checking her arms and shoulders for the ghostly sensation of its embrace, Raven calmly washed its face… then sat at the computer to play video games.
From Mei's perspective, no matter the movement, expression, or mannerism—Raven was her.
Its ability to mimic her was perfect. Indistinguishable. Absolute.
For the first time, Mei felt fear.
"If this experiment slips out of control… that's a risk I cannot afford."
While Raven was still engrossed in the game, Mei pulled out her phone and typed a new entry:
Number 001: The Imitator.
Her first creation now had a name.
But she would not stop there. The second round of experiments had to be performed on humans. Testing on herself was out of the question; she valued her own life far too much.
"Given how things stand, the results look promising," she mused.
"At present, Raven seems loyal. After all, I raised her for three years. But if the subject were some other creature? Who knows what it would do?"
She frowned. "The appearances may be grotesque, but it's safer to prepare for the worst-case scenario. If I ever create something that turns on me… I'll be the first to betray it."
Her fingers hovered over the phone screen for a long moment before she created another file:
Number 000: God.
She wrote:
"God is not a singular being, but a concept—a force beyond comprehension. Beyond understanding, beyond language, beyond reason. Overwhelming. Absolute."
She tapped the screen, muttering under her breath. "Let's hope I don't end up as some deep-sea cephalopod in the process."
Later, in her bedroom, she sat before her computer, turning the puzzle over in her mind.
"But why does that particular combination grant Raven the ability to assume human form? What principle does it tap into?"
"Parrot + hamster, sheep's brain + chameleon + chrysalis."
"Speak like a parrot. Transform like a chameleon. Rebirth like a chrysalis. Viewed conceptually, it could lead to transformation on a higher level…"
She leaned back, thinking aloud. "So if I were to use a bat, could I make a vampire?"
Her lips curved slightly. "Still untested. But if my theory holds, I could use the vase to generate an entire menagerie of mythical creatures."
She laughed softly to herself. "In this world, there are no monsters whose bodies or organs can be harvested for Potion. Very well. I'll create them."
…
Outside, the rain continued its endless fall.
In a narrow alley, a man stumbled forward, his body now covered entirely in slick, iridescent scales. His bulging eyes looked ready to burst from their sockets.
As he stared down at his warped skin, he could hear it—an endless chorus of his own scales, crying out in unison.
"I… I've become a monster?!"
"This has to be a dream… just a dream. None of this is real!"
"Fake. It's all fake!"
He stared at his own hand. The palm was webbed, each finger tapering into hooked claws. From his back jutted two pairs of twitching fish-fins.
His body no longer resembled that of a man—broad at the shoulders, tapering grotesquely toward the waist, his torso bent and hunched. Ribs pushed outward, circling around him like a grotesque cage, while his spine twisted into a crooked arc.
"So noisy."
The voice was low, rasping, right behind him.
The Fish-Man spun. "Who's there?!"
But all he saw was a crow perched calmly atop a lamppost.
"Don't panic," the crow croaked. "We're the same, you and I."
The bird spread its wings. Feathers shuddered loose as its frame elongated, bones cracking audibly as they rearranged.
In the span of a heartbeat, the crow's form twisted—and standing where it had been was Mei, draped in a flowing black dress.
"Ahem." The figure smirked faintly. "But let me remind you—I'm not Mei. Call me The Imitator. Or Raven. Or simply… 001."