“Alright, our Deliverer.
You can stop striking that deep, brooding pose.”
Cyrene watched Phainon standing like a statue against the cosmic backdrop, stunned for a brief moment before a soft, airy laugh escaped her lips.
She turned, her gaze sweeping across the endless expanse.
Beneath her feet lay nothing but an invisible floor, surrounded by the slow, cold drift of the cosmos.
“It seems this place really can transmit messages regardless of distance, but…”
She reached out.
Her slender fingers grazed the void, catching nothing but dead, silent air.
“It just looks a bit too empty.
It has a lonely feeling to it…”
The moment the words left her mouth, that familiar, emotionless mechanical voice chimed in her mind.
[Do you wish to activate Construction Mode?]
“Decorate?”
Cyrene raised an eyebrow, her azure eyes widening with genuine surprise.
This system actually came with a home-building feature?
She didn’t hesitate.
Raising her hand, she gently tapped her fingertip against the empty air.
“Then…
let’s try this first.”
Swish!
There were no devastating special effects.
The environment simply shifted in the blink of an eye.
The freezing cosmic void instantly receded, replaced by a wash of soft, familiar warmth.
Pink bedsheets.
A small vanity tucked by the window.
The faint, soothing scent of lavender drifting through the air.
Cyrene subconsciously took half a step back, her shoulders brushing against soft wallpaper.
The sensation transmitting to her skin was entirely real, delicate and grounded—nothing like a flimsy data simulation.
“This is way too realistic…”
She stood there in a slight daze, almost convinced she had somehow slipped out of the Physical Data Space and landed right back in her own apartment.
But a second later, she turned toward the window.
There were no familiar city streets outside.
No flickering streetlights or passing cars.
Instead, a brilliant, silent galaxy stared right back at her through the glass, quietly watching this cozy little bedroom float in the abyss.
The extreme domestic comfort clashed wildly with the infinite grandeur of the cosmos, creating an absurdly charming sense of dislocation.
“It’s like I just dragged my entire room into the center of the universe.”
Cyrene walked briskly to the desk.
She trailed her fingers over the keyboard resting on the surface, feeling the cool, hard plastic beneath her skin.
It was a perfect replica.
Even the loose ESC key rattled exactly the way she remembered.
“Wait, how much Memory Trace does this level of materialization cost?”
The critical question finally hit her.
She hurriedly raised her hand, summoning her personal interface into the air.
Her gaze darted straight to the bottom corner.
[Memory Trace: 49]
Cyrene blinked, leaning in closer.
She must have misread it.
Before entering this space, her balance had been sitting squarely at 30.
How did spending points on interior decoration actually result in a profit?
Thoroughly confused, she tapped the detailed transaction log.
[Memory Imprint ability was spread on a small scale, leaving a preliminary impression among a specific group of people.]
[Memory Trace + 20]
[Constructed small private space (bedroom), Memory Trace consumed: 1]
“Oh, so that’s how it works…”
Realization dawned on her, accompanied by a cunning little smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.
It seemed her dramatic performance back at the police station had yielded a rather handsome return, even if the process itself had been a bit of a gamble.
Her eyes locked onto the final line of text.
A room this detailed, this perfect, and it only cost a single point?
“Doesn’t that mean…”
The light in Cyrene’s eyes ignited, burning with the manic passion of an architect handed a blank check and an unlimited budget.
If it was this cheap, why settle for a basic bedroom?
It was time for a blockbuster production.
“Phainon, step back a bit.
I’m about to start some major construction!”
She waved the tall man away, then closed her eyes.
A grand, sweeping concept rapidly took shape within her mind.
The next moment, the cozy bedroom shattered like a fragile soap bubble, dissipating into the ether.
A soft pink radiance burst from thin air, instantly illuminating the dark star field.
Thick, billowing clouds of pink mist surged outward, completely obscuring their vision.
Crack.
Grind.
From deep within the fog came the heavy, resonant sound of stone grinding against stone, echoing like an ancient behemoth waking from a long slumber.
Cyrene let out a soft shout, throwing both arms toward the heavens.
As if obeying an absolute edict, the pink mist violently dispersed.
Beneath their feet, pristine white stone extended outward, block by block, locking together smoothly to pave a massive, sweeping plaza.
Colossal stone pillars erupted from the ground, shooting straight up into the void.
Entirely white and carved with complex, flowing patterns, they towered into the clouds.
There was no dome to cap them—they simply stood there, supporting the vast, naked expanse of the starry sky.
An atmosphere of ancient, sacred majesty settled over the space, yet it carried a distinct, delicate touch of girlish aesthetics.
In the very center of the plaza, light and shadow began to weave together.
A massive rectangular stone table slowly solidified.
Its surface was as smooth as a mirror, perfectly reflecting the swirling galaxy overhead.
Around the table, thirteen high-backed chairs materialized in a perfect circle, each engraved with a unique, complex crest on its back.
“Success!”
Cyrene clapped her hands together, practically bouncing on her heels as she admired her masterpiece.
The sheer satisfaction of raising a divine hall from nothing with a single wave of her hand easily beat any city-building game she had ever played.
She threw a quick glance at her panel.
[Memory Trace: 48]
“This is ridiculously cost-effective!” she cheered.
“Cyrene, where exactly is this?”
Phainon stood beside one of the towering pillars, resting his palm against the cold, carved stone.
He swept his gaze across the magnificent architecture, his deep voice carrying just the right amount of awe.
“Hehe, welcome to our secret base—and our supreme combat conference room!”
With a light, skipping step, Cyrene bypassed the side seats and headed straight for the imposing main chair at the head of the long table.
She spun around, pressing both hands against the high backrest, and tilted her chin up in a haughty, queen-like pose.
“From now on, this is our home turf!”
Dropping the pose, she sank back into the wide chair, sinking into the plush material.
She patted the armrests with exaggerated authority, fully leaning into her empress routine.
She beckoned to Phainon, pointing a slender finger at the seat immediately to her left.
“Come, Sir Phainon.
Take a seat.
Let’s have a…
ahem, strategic meeting.”
Phainon stared at her spirited, theatrical display for a moment, clearly stunned.
Then, he shook his head, a helpless but fond smile deepening on his face.
He didn’t burst her bubble of majesty.
Instead, he played right along, striding across the smooth stone floor to pull out the chair beside her.
He sat down with absolute solemnity, looking every bit the loyal knight attending a grave war council.
“Mm, very good!
The atmosphere is perfect now!”
Seeing him in position, Cyrene nodded in approval.
She cleared her throat, deliberately wiping the playful smirk from her face.
Mimicking the brooding masterminds of old, she leaned forward, interlaced her fingers, and rested her chin on her hands, staring dead ahead.
Of course, the uncontainable excitement and cunning still danced brightly in her azure eyes, turning her pretentious display into something comically endearing.
Yet, beneath the vast starry sky, within this magnificent, roofless hall, the air seemed to humor her.
The ambient noise faded into a heavy, dramatic silence.
“Alright, small talk over.
Let’s get down to business.”
Cyrene lowered her voice, trying her absolute hardest to sound deep, magnetic, and mysterious—exactly like an elusive NPC handing out a main quest.
“Let’s start by discussing that monster I encountered at the Hongda Chemical Plant today.”
As the final word left her lips, countless golden particles of light began to converge in the air above the table.
Within seconds, the light condensed into a thin, glowing page.
With a crisp smack, an invisible force slapped the radiant document down onto the mirrored stone surface.
[Elysian’s Note:
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