Absolute darkness, as if even time itself had been consumed.
Baida’s consciousness sphere floated silently.
The weight of parting with Silver Wolf had not yet fully faded—the cold of the data stream’s annihilation and Silver Wolf’s final look of disbelief were like icy scars, deeply etched into her perception core.
“Hah…
second time…” She sighed silently, her consciousness rippling with fatigue and numbness.
“Watching loved ones grieve and then making a graceful exit—how many more times before I go crazy…”
She waited for the fox-eared girl to appear with that teasing smile, to comment in that infuriating yet helpless way, and then start a new simulation or at least offer some comfort.
But around her, only emptiness.
After a moment, the familiar floating panel lit up on its own, cold white text appearing line by line, replacing any possible pleasantries:
[Notice: Contractor Baida, the two Life Simulation opportunities granted by the Guide ‘Fox-Eared Girl’ have been fully consumed.]
[Thank you for your efforts and…
‘remarkable’ performance during this time.] This line seemed to carry a barely noticeable delay, as if the system were searching for the right words.
[In accordance with the initial agreement, we are now opening a permanent channel to the main world: Penacony.]
[Wishing you a pleasant journey in the real world.]
The text faded, and an ordinary-looking, somewhat vintage leather suitcase silently appeared beneath Baida’s consciousness sphere.
At the same time, a doorway formed before her—different from the violent light gates of before, emitting a steady, soft white glow, its edges adorned with tiny, star-like particles.
It carried a sense of both “return” and “beginning.”
“That’s it…
over?” Baida’s consciousness felt lost.
“Not even a goodbye?
Fox-eared father…
no, mother?
So stingy!
At least give me a newbie gift pack!”
She “looked” at the light door, then at the suitcase.
Memories of two simulations flooded back—Herta’s cold tears, Silver Wolf’s desperate embrace.
A powerful longing to see them again overwhelmed all hesitation.
“Forget it.
Better rely on myself anyway.” She muttered, her consciousness touching the suitcase.
A strange connection formed, as if the case had become an extension of her body.
Without lingering in this dark space that had given her both power and endless pain, she dragged the suitcase and stepped through the stable light door without hesitation.
No tearing, no dizziness.
Only a soft sensation, like passing through a warm film of water.
The next moment, sensation returned like a flood.
Hearing was first: lazy, languid jazz music drifted through the air like gentle smoke, mixed with hushed conversations, the clink of crystal glasses, and something else—distant, faint laughter, as if from the depths of a dream.
Touch followed: beneath her was an incredibly soft velvet sofa, one that seemed to swallow her whole.
Her fingertips brushed against several smooth, hard cards.
Vision cleared last: before her was an extravagantly luxurious hall, blending retro and futuristic styles.
A high dome was painted with magnificent starry murals.
Floating crystal chandeliers cast warm, gentle light.
Beyond the massive observation windows lay a dreamlike cityscape.
This was a real area of Penacony—the reception area of the Reverie Hotel.
Baida blinked, somewhat dazed, and looked down at the beautifully crafted tickets in her hand: [Golden Hour Deep Dream Experience Pass], [Dreamscape Exploration Permit], and a high-quality room key card.
Everything felt terrifyingly real, as if the long simulations that had spanned two worlds, life and death, were just a brief, strange dream she had while waiting to check in.
She instinctively raised her hand and touched her cheek. Find the original chapter at g.com.
Warm, smooth.
Real skin.
She stood and walked somewhat urgently to a nearby decorative metal pillar, polished as smooth as a mirror.
The column clearly reflected a figure.
It was a tall, straight young woman, wearing a clean, slightly adventurous outfit that had somehow changed automatically—perhaps a complimentary service from the suitcase.
And her face…
Baida’s breath caught.
It was a face that bore a seven or eight out of ten resemblance to Herta.
The same grayish-white hair, the same delicate, doll-like features.
Yet upon closer inspection, it was distinctly different—her brow carried less of Herta’s icy detachment and more warmth and lively spirit.
The corners of her mouth naturally curved into a faint, likable smile.
Most different were her eyes.
No longer purely rational and clear, they held an indescribable depth—the weariness and tenderness of one who had twice faced separation by life and death, like a deep pool reflecting the starry sea.
“Heh…” Baida smiled at her reflection, a mix of surprise, self-mockery, and profound complexity.
She murmured to herself, her voice slightly hoarse from regaining physical form.
“This face…
it’s a walking magnet for trouble.
If Herta and Silver Wolf saw me, would one think she’d seen a ghost and the other a cheap imitation, then team up to erase me?”
She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart.
She was here now.
Her priority was to find them.
She walked back to the sofa and opened the seemingly ordinary suitcase.
Inside were neatly folded changes of clothes, basic toiletries, and…
a brown cowboy hat with a perfectly proportioned brim, tucked in a mesh pocket on the inside of the lid.
“Nice.
Thoughtful.” Baida picked up the hat and weighed it in her hand—surprisingly good quality.
She placed it on her head, tilting the brim slightly down so the shadow partially hid her face, which resembled Herta’s too closely.
Only her graceful jawline and that faint, smiling mouth remained visible.
She pulled the suitcase’s handle, its wheels making a soft rolling sound on the floor, and walked calmly toward the brightly lit, art-gallery-like front desk.
At the front desk, several neatly uniformed staff members with impeccable smiles were checking in guests.
Baida joined a short line, quickly scanning her surroundings, her mind racing.
Her turn came.
A receptionist with light blonde curls and a sweet smile looked at her: “Good afternoon, esteemed guest.
How may I assist you?”
“Good afternoon,” Baida replied with an equally bright smile, her voice light.
“I just arrived in Penacony.
It feels like a dream!
Here are my tickets and identification.” She handed over the experience tickets and a flawless ID card that had appeared in the suitcase’s compartment.
At the same time, her other hand hung casually at her side, her fingers twitching almost imperceptibly.
An invisible data stream, like the finest probe, silently connected to the hidden terminal interface beneath the front desk.
[Mechanical Ascension] and the hacking experience from Silver Wolf’s simulation merged perfectly.
“Welcome to the Planet of Festivities, Ms.
Baida.” The receptionist skillfully swiped her ID and checked the system.
“Let me see…
you’ve booked…
It’s ready for you.”
“Wonderful!” Baida expressed just the right amount of delight, continuing to chat about Penacony’s local customs and praising the hotel’s luxury, like a genuine, excited tourist.
Meanwhile, her consciousness moved through the data ocean like a fish in water.
The hotel’s internal network defenses were nonexistent before her.
She flipped through the guest registry like an open book, scanning countless aliases and information.
Her target was clear—finding traces of the Stellaron Hunters.
“Speaking of which, I’ve heard Penacony has been hosting quite a few celebrities lately,” Baida mentioned casually, her fingers rhythmically tapping the counter, syncing with her precise data search.
“Are there any…
famous performers?
Or bands?”
The receptionist maintained her professional smile: “I’m afraid we can’t disclose guest privacy.”
“Oh, of course, I understand.” Baida smiled, but inside, she had already locked onto several highly suspicious registration entries.
They were scattered across different standard room areas, but their booking patterns and check-in times shared a subtle connection.
Finally, her “gaze” settled on one entry: [B.
Silver].
The check-in information showed they had booked only one…
luxury suite?
“Only one room?” Baida wondered internally.
“Are these universe-class fugitives so budget-conscious?
Or are they already close enough to share a room?”
She quickly noted the room number, next to which was an empty suite of the same class.
Immediately, she said to the receptionist: “By the way, miss, could I switch to suite XX07?
I’ve heard the view from there is better.”
The receptionist checked the system and said apologetically: “I’m very sorry, Ms.
Baida, but suite XX07 has already been booked by another guest.
However, suite XX09 next door is still available, and its view is equally excellent.”
“Oh?
Great!
I’ll take XX09 then!” Baida agreed immediately.
This was exactly what she wanted.
Check-in was completed quickly.
Baida took her new room key, flashed another perfect smile at the receptionist: “Thank you, beautiful lady.
May sweet dreams be with you.”
“May sweet dreams be with you,” the receptionist replied with a smile.
Baida adjusted her hat brim, turned, and let her smile fade, replaced by a complex expression of nervousness, anticipation, and resolve.
She dragged her suitcase, its wheels making a steady, clear sound on the marble floor.
In this luxurious, bustling lobby, she looked like a lone traveler with a clear purpose, walking step by step, unwaveringly, toward the room registered under [B.
Silver].
The corridor was covered in thick carpet that absorbed her footsteps.
Abstract artworks hung on the walls, and soft lighting created a tranquil atmosphere.
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, growing louder.
Finally, she stood before the heavy door, carved with intricate patterns.
Behind this door were those she had crossed life, death, and data to find.
Her family.
She took a deep breath, raised her hand, and pressed the doorbell.