Robert's Fake Corpse

And then robotess noticed right in front of her feet several torn pages that were scattered on the sidewalk, as if someone had ripped the book apart. The leaves were covered in a dusty crust, but the words written on them were eye-catching.

"What is this?" asked Fatso, bending down to pick up one of the pages. He touched it with his fingers, looking at the small but clear handwriting with surprise.

Delia Asia Vieira looked at the pages on which strange, yet familiar words were written.

"Is this... a fairy tale?" she said, leaning forward to examine the text more closely. "But it's a strange fairy tale. It's like a spellbinding story."

On one of the pages, one could read words that seemed strangely familiar, but did not fit into the usual canons of literature. A few words, such as "forbidden path" and "release the dark force", left no doubt that these were words worth paying attention to.

The fat man finally looked up from the page, his eyes widening as he noticed strange things starting to happen.

"Are you crazy? Why can this... fairy tale have such an effect?" he said skeptically, but the words written on the page seemed to go beyond the explanation. He tried to laugh, but something in his intonation still betrayed anxiety.

And at that moment it happened. It was as if all those words on the pages suddenly began to live their own lives.

Before they could look around, people in the building, including journalists, began to come out. The crowd began to move toward the exit, everyone seemed possessed by some invisible impulse. People rushed out, staring into the void in front of them, not realizing that it all started with them.

Delia Asia Vieira watched the scene with some surprise. She noticed that some strange rhythm was taking over this entire stream of people.

"Does this sound like... magic?" she said, her voice barely audible over all the commotion.

Gene York shrugged.

"Magic? I'd say it was just a powerful force of persuasion that just unleashed the people. There may be more to this than just words."

The fat man, however, still could not believe what was happening.

"Magic, you say? I don't know what you're talking about, but I definitely saw them rushing after us, as if someone had forced them. Look at those journalists, they're clearly out of their minds."

They watched as the crowd of journalists ran out of the building, without slowing down, heading off in a direction as if searching for something. People from other places also began to come out onto the street and follow them, as if obeying the same impulse.

"We have to stop this," Delia Asia Vieira said, clutching the pages with determination. "We have to find out who or what is behind this."

But at that moment they noticed that their own steps were not carrying them to the exit of the city, but along some invisible line, in the same direction as the crowd. A strange feeling took hold of them, forcing them to go where there was no visible goal.

"We... should go there?" Gene York asked, looking at Delia Asia Vieira. His gaze was intense, but he knew that resisting these people would not help.

Delia Asia Vieira looked back at the crowd, which was now moving quickly, almost running, but clearly in the direction they had once avoided. And as they began to move in the same direction, she realized that this was not just a coincidence. This was something greater. As if they themselves had become part of something greater.

"Apparently, we are not destined to stop," she said, as if drawing conclusions, "and this path was predetermined. And we must all go through it to the end."

With every step they took, more and more people surrounded them. Everyone was moving in the same direction, as if they were under the power of an inexplicable force. And when they arrived at Gene York's house, his apartment building looked, as always, unremarkable. It was an old brick building with peeling paint, but Gene did not live there for its appearance. He was used to this place and never complained. As they went up to the second floor, where his apartment was located, they immediately felt a strange atmosphere in the air. When the door opened, they were surprised to find that the apartment was empty, but the air smelled of blood.

"Gene, you said you weren't expecting anyone, didn't you?" The fat man asked, holding his suitcase tighter, as if he was prepared for any turn of events.

Gene York didn't answer right away. He glanced around the empty space, then walked over to a chair in the corner where everything seemed to be in order... until his gaze fell on the figure in the chair.

"No, this can't be..." Gene muttered, coming closer.

What they saw took them by surprise: Robert, the creator of Delia Asia Vieira, was sitting in a chair, but he was dead. His face was twisted in pain, and his body was lifeless and motionless. He had been brutally murdered, blood still seeping through his clothes, and his hands were twisted in lifeless gestures.

Delia Asia Vieira was speechless when she saw her creator. She froze in place, her eyes widened, and then she literally fell to her knees in front of Robert's body. A deep, stifled, pained sob escaped her chest as she touched his face.

"Robert..." Her voice was full of despair. She dropped her head on his shoulder and began to cry, sobbing loudly, as if her whole world had collapsed.

The fat man standing next to him exchanged a puzzled glance with Gene York.

"Who is it?" he finally asked, clapping Gene on the shoulder. "You didn't say you had someone who... who is it?"

Gene York was also shocked. He couldn't understand what was happening.

"It's... Robert. He... he was an important person to me," said Gene, trying to get his thoughts in order. He looked at Delia Asia Vieira, who could not stop sobbing.

He did not even suspect that she could be related to this man. But he saw her pain, he saw how she reacted, and he did not know what to think.