novelraw Chapter 67: Sea of Darkness - (67)
Chapter 67: Sea of Darkness - (67)
“Are you ready?”
At 9 p.m., Night Cicada opened a teleportation channel and arrived at Kui Xin’s residence.
“I’ve been ready for quite some time.” Kui Xin stood up from the sofa. “Let’s go now and return promptly. I want to get back early to rest.”
As she put on her mask, Night Cicada observed her complexion. “Those dark circles under your eyes are really pronounced.”
“During critical times, my work is non-stop, twenty-four hours a day.” Kui Xin glanced at him briefly. “It’s no wonder your dark circles are so pronounced.”
“You’ve been working hard,” Night Cicada acknowledged with sympathy. He extended his arms, inviting Kui Xin to step into the teleportation channel.
Seeing Kui Xin enter, Silver Mask also attempted to follow.
“You stay here and watch over the house.” Smiling, Night Cicada gently held back Silver Mask. “This isn’t a mission tonight; the Rich Lady needs to return to Headquarters for some errands.”
“I see… Goodbye.” Silver Mask waved at Kui Xin’s departing figure.
Kui Xin traversed the channel and arrived at a silvery-white corridor.The immaculate floor reflected the light, and a blue beam scanned Kui Xin from head to toe.
“Identity confirmed, ‘Rich Lady,’ welcome back,” Eden announced.
“Chuckle.” Standing behind Kui Xin, Night Cicada couldn’t help but laugh. “Every time I hear others call you ‘Rich Lady,’ it makes me want to burst out laughing. Red must be the one who uses your codename most frequently, right? How does he manage to say ‘Rich Lady’ with such seriousness?”
“Do you have any issues with my code name?” Kui Xin turned to look at him.
“Of course not.” Night Cicada grinned widely. “Let’s go, Miss; I’ll take you to see the prisoner.”
Although Night Cicada consistently addressed Kui Xin as “Miss,” he never truly treated her like one. His tone was always casual. In his mind, these words were merely a teasing form of address; Kui Xin’s position within the organization did not grant her absolute precedence.
“We’ll start by checking out the appetizer first,” Night Cicada said. “Has the boss told you about ‘Players’?”
“Just a bit,” Kui Xin replied.
“Then let me elaborate further.” Night Cicada, arms crossed, walked ahead of Kui Xin, guiding her through the corridor. “The story begins when I went on a mission to White Whale City.”
He didn’t delve into the specifics of his mission in White Whale City but proceeded directly with his narrative.
“The first person who slipped up was Duolin Sinclair, the female assistant at the Biomechanics Research Institute. She is what we call a player, and she was the first person we met. The player took over Duolin’s body, living disguised as her, but it seemed that the player lacked Duolin’s memories. As a result, she could only poorly disguise herself.”
“Without memories, it would indeed be easy for abnormalities to be noticed,” Kui Xin observed.
Night Cicada nodded. “Yes, she went to work, but upon reaching the entrance, she surprisingly couldn’t remember the password for the duty room. How could a researcher at the institute possibly forget the duty room’s password? Her unusual behavior caught her colleagues’ attention, leading them to report it. Consequently, we began monitoring Ms. Duolin.”
“Duolin was Leini’er’s assistant?” Kui Xin asked.
“Yes. As they say, when you pull out a radish, mud follows—the dirt beneath. Soon after, we discovered that Leini’er’s behavior also became abnormal,” Night Cicada said. “Leini’er’s response wasn’t reckless; he first took a few days off and secluded himself in his residence. I imagine he was studying how to adapt to this world. In any case, after several days, his leave ended, and he had no choice but to return to work. During his time off, we did not observe any peculiarities from him.”
Curious, Kui Xin asked, “How did Leini’er expose himself?”
“The elevator,” Night Cicada replied mildly. “In White Whale City, elevators are voice-controlled. Leini’er was unaware of this feature. When he entered the elevator, he stood there dumbfounded before starting to grope around, searching for buttons like those on floating screens or similar controls. Only eventually did he remember to try speaking. This scene was captured by the elevator surveillance camera. He was quite fortunate; just as he approached, he encountered one of his colleagues, and together they entered the laboratory. Otherwise, he would have surely been seen scratching his head, trying to guess the password at the door.”
“However, his behavior in the elevator already caught the organization’s attention,” Kui Xin said. “I assume this wasn’t the only incident that led you to confirm his identity. What other unusual actions did he exhibit?”
“After noticing Leini’er’s peculiarities, we also began monitoring him, setting up miniature cameras in his residence.” Night Cicada chuckled derisively. “Guess what happened next? The camera caught him studying the household projector. It’s just too funny. He fiddled with it for several days but couldn’t figure out how to use it properly. I suspect the voice-controlled switches in the elevator gave him an idea, leading him to guess that these devices could be controlled by voice commands. However, there was an unexpected twist. Dr. Leini’er Brandonberg of the Biomechanics Research Institute had programmed the startup command for the smart home appliances as the name of a cat he had during childhood. The player impersonating Professor Leini’er didn’t know the cat’s name, so he never managed to guess the correct startup command for the household projector.”
This fellow truly had terrible luck; every compatriot Kui Xin encountered seemed more unfortunate than the last.
Chai Jian landed in the mental hospital, Xi Liang was paralyzed after being hit by a rich kid, and Leini’er inadvertently crossed over into a role at Mechanical Dawn’s research facility.
“Wasn’t it strange that this guy went unnoticed in the laboratory? He possessed a researcher; wouldn’t there be issues with conducting experiments?” Kui Xin asked.
Night Cicada replied, “He seemed to have some basic knowledge. During his time in the laboratory, his handling of dissections was quite professional. I suspect that in their world, his profession might have been a doctor… or possibly a soldier.”
“That’s intriguing,” Kui Xin said. “Did Leini’er and Duolin ever meet? Did they connect?”
“Hmm, you’ve hit upon a crucial question. It appears that players don’t know each other’s identities initially. At first, Duolin and Leini’er had no interaction whatsoever. Only when Leini’er overheard Duolin discreetly insulting a male colleague did they confirm each other’s status as players. I’m guessing the insult Duolin used was specific slang from their world.”
“What kind of slang?” Kui Xin asked.
“Uh… It seems like ‘not even Donald Trump would dare say such outrageous things.'” Night Cicada frowned, stroking his chin. “Who is Donald Trump?”
Kui Xin was momentarily struck speechless but suddenly felt like laughing.
“So what happened after that? Did they become friends upon recognizing each other’s identities?” Kui Xin probed further.
“Yes, it unfolded roughly like that,” Night Cicada said. “The substitution of important researchers by unknown individuals using peculiar methods is a significant matter. Moreover, this wasn’t an isolated incident; two people were consecutively replaced. In places beyond our reach, there must be even more similar occurrences. The boss feared that once these two met, they might conspire against the organization, so he ordered us to apprehend them swiftly. We observed and monitored them for a few days, then proceeded with the capture once we confirmed they didn’t possess any special abilities.”
“And during the capture process, Duolin died?” Kui Xin stated.
“Correct, it was somewhat regrettable as we lost a crucial source of intelligence,” Night Cicada replied. “The capturers were slightly too forceful; her head hit the ground, causing internal bleeding, which led to her death. As for Leini’er, he’s tough as nails, and interrogation yielded little useful information.”
“Why would players suddenly appear in our lives?” Kui Xin asked. “This sounds like something straight out of a third-rate script—transferring players from one alternate world to another.”
“But it has indeed happened, and we must find ways to cope with it,” Night Cicada responded. “To this day, we don’t know the intentions behind those players arriving in our world, nor do we even have an exact count of how many there are.”
“Tsk, the troubles just keep piling up,” Kui Xin said. “Dealing with the Investigation Department is already bothersome enough, and now a bunch of mysterious individuals have emerged.”
Night Cicada cautioned, “Keep an eye on the Investigation Department; they might assign you tasks related to capturing players as well.”
“I’ll be vigilant,” Kui Xin replied. “By the way, wasn’t there a third player mentioned?”
“Yes,” Night Cicada confirmed. “The manager of Rick Technologies’ Jiang City branch is Zhao Hansheng, who has a son named Zhao Wenyao. Zhao Hansheng and his wife noticed that their son seemed to have transformed overnight—not only had he lost all his memories, but some of his behaviors and habits changed too. They felt their son was no longer the original person. Consequently, Zhao Hansheng began restricting Zhao Wenyao’s outings. Sensing the change in their parents’ attitude, Zhao Wenyao planned to sneak away.”
“It sounds truly terrifying—your close family member suddenly having their soul replaced,” Kui Xin remarked matter-of-factly. “But attempting to sneak out? This player doesn’t seem very clever.”
“He didn’t succeed.” Night Cicada shrugged. “Zhao reported the incident, and I went to apprehend Zhao Wenyao.”
“The appetizer you mentioned earlier, it’s not actually Zhao Wenyao, is it?” Kui Xin asked.
Night Cicada grinned and said, “Yes, that’s him. We locked this kid up in an isolation room without providing food, only giving him a little water. His willpower was far weaker than Leini’er’s; just missing a few meals broke him completely. He wailed miserably in the room… It was quite pitiful.”
“I thought the players were all remarkably strong.” Kui Xin feigned contemplation.
“Clearly, Zhao Wenyao isn’t strong at all. He’s an ordinary person—a weak-willed one,” Night Cicada said. “We haven’t had the chance to interrogate him yet. You can be the first to do so.”
“All right.” Kui Xin nodded promptly and without hesitation.
They approached a tightly closed door. After undergoing a scan, a narrow gap split open at its center, sliding apart to either side.
Upon entering, they found themselves in a spacious room divided by a layer of transparent glass into two halves. The section behind the glass was an isolation chamber, essentially a cell.
On the floor of the cell lay a young man, who appeared to be around eighteen or nineteen years old. His ordinary-looking face had swollen eyes with bloodshot whites, suggesting he had been crying for a long time.
As Zhao Wenyao saw Kui Xin and Night Cicada enter, he kicked his legs backward, retreating a few steps, and burst into tears again.
“Why did you lock me up here? Where are my parents? I want to see them!” Tears streamed down Zhao Wenyao’s face as he trembled fearfully. “I’m going to find a lawyer and sue you! This is illegal detention!”
Kui Xin silently glanced at Night Cicada. “How about you handle the interrogation? Whenever I see him crying like this, I just feel like punching him.”
“I’ll conduct the interrogation,” Night Cicada suggested. “When it’s necessary to hit him, we can switch roles.”
“Sounds good,” Kui Xin agreed.
“Well then, you can punch him now,” Night Cicada said. “Start by giving him a beating so he understands the consequences.”
Night Cicada snapped his fingers, and the isolation glass automatically lowered. Zhao Wenyao looked at them with terror, pressing his body against the wall.
“Don’t beat him to death,” Night Cicada kindly cautioned.