Dimensional Hotel

(.)

Little Red Riding Hood didn’t seem to doubt Yu Sheng’s explanation. After all, adults who were less than reliable often covered up the truth in disturbing ways, fooling people who weren’t even eighteen yet. Instead of pressing him further, she simply warned him to be careful dealing with the dark angel and then guided the conversation back to Otherworlds.

“Otherworlds are mainly divided into four types,” she said earnestly. “The first three are easier to understand and are labeled as ‘wilderness,’ ‘kingdom,’ and ‘fortress,’ based on their scope and structure. You can probably guess what they mean just from their names.”

Yu Sheng shook off his casual attitude and focused. “I’ve read a little about that. A wilderness-type Otherworld is described as ‘an open space with no clear visual borders, mostly covered in natural terrain, and you can’t leave just by reaching the edge,’ right?”

“Exactly. That’s why the Night Valley is a classic example of a wilderness-type Otherworld,” she said with a nod. “They’re usually huge, without fixed entrances or exits. You often need specific conditions—or certain times—to escape.

“Kingdoms are another type of large-scale Otherworld,” she continued, “and they can be just as big as wildernesses. But kingdoms show major ‘signs of human activity’—things like cities, houses, maybe factories producing strange, unknown goods. Still, if you look carefully, you’ll see plenty of contradictions in their buildings and machinery.

“One key difference is that kingdoms typically have stable entrances and exits, unlike wildernesses. This makes them a lot more manageable.”

She paused, as though giving Yu Sheng a chance to absorb what she’d said, then went on. “The third type, fortresses, usually appear as single, enclosed buildings or complexes. They’re smaller than wildernesses or kingdoms, but that doesn’t make them any safer. In fact, fortresses can be the riskiest of all. Their rules are complicated and often change suddenly, and unpredictability is their main feature. Some fortresses do have permanent entrances and exits, but others are like wildernesses—you have to meet certain requirements to get in or out.”

Her eyes met Yu Sheng’s. “Our little museum adventure took place in a fortress-type Otherworld. And there’s another fortress you know very well… Any guesses?”

She sighed. “Obviously.”n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

“Well, now that you bring it up, I guess it’s pretty clear,” he said, a bit embarrassed. Eager to change the subject, he added, “So we’ve covered three types. That leaves the fourth, which must be ‘fairy tales,’ right?”

Little Red Riding Hood let out a deep breath, and her expression turned serious. “Those belong to the anomalous category.”

Before Yu Sheng could speak, Irene, who had been listening quietly, blurted, “Ugh, just hearing ‘anomalous’ sounds like a nightmare.”

Foxy, holding Irene in her arms, tilted her head. “Why do you think that?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Irene rolled her eyes. “Otherworlds are already dangerous. And now there’s a type that literally screams ‘weird’ in its name? That’s like Yu Sheng walking into Wutong Road No. 66—nothing good can come of it!”

Yu Sheng flicked Irene’s forehead. “Stop using me in your examples!”

Then he turned his attention back to Little Red Riding Hood. “Please go on.”

“Ordinary Otherworlds are warped pockets of space and time,” she said carefully, “while anomalous Otherworlds exist outside of that. They’re abstract, more like concepts brought to life than physical spaces. They can revolve around emotions, memories, sounds, or even… a story.”

Yu Sheng, Irene, and Foxy stared at her, trying to grasp what she meant.

After a few moments, Yu Sheng managed a baffled, “Huh?”

He raised a hand before Little Red Riding Hood could answer. “I think I get it, sort of. But you’re saying that things like feelings, memories, or sounds… can become Otherworlds?”

“No, you’ve got it a bit reversed,” she corrected him. “Some Otherworlds manifest as these intangible forms, but it’s not those forms that create the Otherworld.”

“Right,” Yu Sheng said, nodding uncertainly. “But still… I always assumed that, no matter how strange they got, Otherworlds had to be places—real locations you could physically enter or leave. This is… I can’t even find the words to describe it!”

She blinked. “Wait, you’re a writer?”

Off to the side, Irene piped up, “He is! And his stories are incredibly creepy. Just ask Ren Wenwen from the Special Affairs Bureau.”

“That’s not the point!” Yu Sheng huffed, pushing Irene away gently, then turning back to Little Red Riding Hood. “So, they’re called ‘anomalous’ for a good reason. And you’re saying that ‘fairy tales’ fit here—basically a ‘story-type’ Otherworld?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“But the Black Forest felt very real,” Yu Sheng pointed out. “It felt like an actual place. Or maybe it was just a dream?”

“That’s typical of anomalous Otherworlds. Even though they’re abstract at the core, they still pull people into seemingly physical spaces, sometimes through illusions or dreams. Some of them affect only the mind, while others drag in your entire body. Because of this, people often misclassify them at first. By the time they figure it out, it’s usually too late for those trapped inside.

“Within anomalous Otherworlds, fairy tales are a special case,” she continued. “They have tons of branching sub-areas.”

She paused for a moment. “The Black Forest is just one of those branches.”

She looked a little uneasy, then explained, “Think of ‘fairy tales’ as an invisible, intangible building—impossible to see or touch. But it can spawn endless ‘rooms.’ The wolf-filled Black Forest is one. Dorothy’s ‘Wilderness’ is another. Then there’s the ‘Tower’ where the Long-Haired Princess is kept, or Cinderella’s ‘Ball,’ repeating in an endless cycle. And there are even stranger rooms that don’t match any known fairy tale.”

Yu Sheng raised an eyebrow. “Stranger in what way?”

“They’re not connected to any specific story—just classic fairy tale tropes, like a king’s castle or a dragon’s hoard of treasure. We haven’t been able to tie them to any character or plot.”

He fell silent, mentally piecing together what she was saying. Little Red Riding Hood’s calm voice seemed to pull him deeper into her explanation.

“This place,” she said softly, turning her gaze toward the window. Outside, children’s laughter echoed by the swings. “This is where the first fairy tale took shape.”

Yu Sheng looked at her in surprise, noticing her eyes shift to the courtyard. Children were having fun, playing on the swings, their shouts floating into the room.

“A long, long time ago, before these buildings were here, there was a smaller orphanage on this very spot. It was still used to care for children. After the first fairy tale outbreak, the entire area was sealed off for a while.

“At first, the Special Affairs Bureau treated it like a typical Otherworld event and moved all the affected children to a high-security zone. But within a few years, fairy tale incidents popped up in other parts of the Borderland. The relocated children began showing strange symptoms. That’s when people realized that something new—a previously unknown anomalous Otherworld—was spreading across the region.

“Ever since, the Bureau has tried all sorts of methods to rein in this fairy tale phenomenon, but it hasn’t worked. Even their most skilled investigators often don’t come back from those fairy-tale sub-areas. Many lives were sacrificed to figure out just a handful of rules. The most important rule…” She stopped and looked Yu Sheng straight in the eye. “…is that fairy tales don’t like adults.

“That’s the foundation that allowed this child-run orphanage to form its own sort of kingdom.”