Chapter 25

Not long after, the terminal received a reply.

Hels: [Here.]

Horne: [Got something for you, you free?]

Hels: [Next door, come over.]

Perhaps he really was that idle, leaving the door open.

A sliver of light leaked from the door crack, but Horne still knocked twice symbolically.

“Come in.” Through the door, the voice from inside sounded somewhat muffled.

Horne pushed open the door. The ceiling lights in the living room slanted across his face, and at the same time, he got a clear look at the room.

Warm lighting and wooden floors made the space feel even softer. Several potted plants sat by the window, most of the furniture was wood, and there were a few desks. Judging by the dust marks, plenty of books had once lined them, but they had all been cleared out, leaving only a few scattered decorations.

Hels sat on the central sofa, legs casually crossed in a relaxed pose. He held a book in his hand, but set it down when he saw Horne enter.

“Wow, a rare guest.” Hels said with a smile, his tone light and airy. He shifted his posture, propping his cheek on one hand as he regarded Horne intriguingly.

Horne stood in the doorway without moving, his face expressionless. He had no idea how to react.

“Don’t want to come in?” Hels asked. He placed his other hand on the sofa cushion beside him and tapped lightly with his fingertips, gesturing for Horne to sit.

Horne’s gaze slid from his fingertips to his face. He tilted his head up slightly, not wanting to waste any more time here. In a tone he meant to sound relaxed but which came out cold anyway, he said, “No need. I just came out of the holographic game. I only want to ask about that reward and punishment matter.”

Hels raised an eyebrow and let out a soft chuckle, retracting his hand. “Who was on staff for the holographic game today?”

Horne said, “I don’t know.”

“I see.” Hels pulled up his terminal to check. His eyes quickly scanned the list before he sneered, uncrossed his legs, and sat up straight. “Can’t resolve a customer’s issue, so you come ask me?”

“It wasn’t his problem.” Horne explained, giving a brief rundown of the situation with himself, Moroz, and Ains.

Hels listened, then closed the terminal and fell silent for a moment. Horne couldn’t tell what he was thinking—just a slight frown, followed by a self-mocking laugh. He leaned back lazily, amusement flickering in his eyes as he looked at Horne.

“Oh, there’s no precedent for that, true enough.”

Horne, still in the doorway, lowered his gaze. Disappointment didn’t show on his face. He simply said, “Okay then. Thanks. I won’t disturb you,” and turned to leave.

“Wait.” Hels called after him, then stood up.

Horne stopped in place, watching as Hels approached step by step. Those paces were always unhurried, as if nothing could disrupt his rhythm.

The figure drew closer until they were less than half a meter apart. Hels leaned sideways against the wall, looking at Horne.

He was a bit taller than Horne and, from that position, blocked the light from the living room.

Backlit, Horne could only make out the shadow of his outline. He took a small step back to create some distance. “Anything else?”

Hels sighed. If Horne had only brought it up, he would have made the exception without hesitation. But Horne never would, so he had to say it himself.

“I can make an exception for you.”

His voice was low and resonant, brushing right past Horne’s ear. Horne froze for a moment, staring at him in disbelief, though he quickly hid the surprise.

“What’s the condition?”

He simply couldn’t trust Hels’ goodwill. Even after all this time, he still had no clue what Hels was really after.

In the game, he had gradually let his guard down around Moroz, bound by the rules and their shared interests. But out here in reality, none of that existed.

After he spoke, Hels went quiet for a long stretch. Their breaths mingled in the narrow space between them—it was close enough that Horne couldn’t tell whose was whose. The warm light from the living room slanted across, casting their two shadows on the wall.

Hels’ expression grew complicated. Horne didn’t try to read it. After locking eyes for a few seconds, he looked away. Then Hels burst out laughing.

He covered his face as he laughed, his shoulders shaking with it.

Horne said nothing. He was growing used to Hels’ sudden fits of neurosis and simply watched quietly as he wiped away a tear.

Once he had laughed his fill, Hels took a deep breath and shook his head. Softly, he said, “You’re really something,” then tilted his head in thought. “You put it that way, and yeah, there is something I need you for.”

His voice carried a magnetic gentleness. “I want to go somewhere. Accompany me, okay?”

Horne blinked in confusion. This was one of the things he could never quite figure out about Hels. He was laying down a condition, leaving no real room for refusal, yet he always phrased it like he was asking for an opinion.

“Just that?” Horne asked.

“Just that.”

Horne’s gaze drifted past Hels to the empty desks, his mind lost in thought and calculation.

Roughly sixteen hours left. Time to prepare, rest, head to the tower. No telling what would happen once they got there, so he couldn’t be sure he could keep his promise to Ains. If possible, the best move was to settle it now.

Hels followed his line of sight.

The desks held mostly little knickknacks he had tossed there casually. The most striking was a photo frame containing a picture of a woman. Blonde hair wrapped in a headscarf, with a few strands peeking out. She gazed at the camera, smiling brightly.

Horne didn’t ask, but Hels explained anyway. “That’s my mother, Mikaila.”

Horne pulled his gaze back. “Oh.” He took another step back and asked flatly, “How long?”

Hels: “You busy?”

“Yeah.”

“One hour.”

“Fine.”

The door clicked shut behind them.

Horne hadn’t expected Hels to take him to the holographic game room—the same place he had just left.

The staff spotted Hels and immediately dipped their heads in greeting. Their eyes then flicked to Horne beside him, surprise plain on their faces.

They stepped into the dark area. Hels picked two adjacent game pods at random and gestured for Horne to lie down. But Horne’s attention snagged on some staff members cleaning up not far away.

He thought he saw blood.

Hels glanced over, unconcerned, but explained anyway. “Some people can’t beat the game. They try to force their way through or wreck the system. Once it detects that, it ejects them and switches to self-defense mode—counterattacks players like that.”

No wonder they equipped the limb cutters before the start. He had played by the rules and never noticed the mechanic.

Horne suddenly remembered what Victor and Gao Qie had said about Hels in the game, so he asked offhand, “You really monitor the players? If they say or do something bad, you kill them off in-game?”

Hels laughed at the question. He perched on the edge of a game pod, hands braced on either side. “Do you know how many times people have entered the holographic game in all of history?”

“How many?”

“Millions.” Hels’ tone dripped with mocking disdain. “Different games, different rules—hidden ones too. Sometimes players trip a rule without realizing and trigger the limb cutter. They blame me. And if it wasn’t me? How do you think they explain dying for no reason?”

Hels didn’t care about the rumors. A guy like him was bound to get slapped with all sorts of baseless labels around here.

Horne’s focus shifted back to Hels, but it was too dark to make out his face. Still, he sensed a touch of helplessness there.

Horne let it drop and asked about their purpose instead. “The game only opens once a week. Can we still go in?”

Hels stood and motioned for him to lie down.

“We’re not playing. It’s a map I built myself in the holographic game. Haven’t found a tester yet—you showed up at the perfect time.”

“Oh.” Horne gave a short reply.

Fifteen hours to go.

He lay down. The transparent glass sealed shut, familiar green gas filled the pod, and drowsiness took hold.

No announcements this time, no prompts. His body plunged endlessly until it floated somewhere. Bright light flickered beyond his closed eyelids.

Horne opened his eyes slowly. The scene sharpened before him, leaving his mouth agape. He couldn’t utter a word for a long moment.

Hels floated nearby, very close. They hovered in midair—or what used to be midair.

From their vantage, they had a clear view of half the Earth, directly overhead. What stunned Horne wasn’t the near-space overlook but the planet itself.

He couldn’t link any of this to Hels, let alone imagine this was the destination.

Blue oceans, yellow landmasses, green woodlands.

Earth from a century ago.

Earth before the snowfield swallowed it.

Earth before the aliens invaded.

The European continent’s shape matched the history books: west to the Atlantic, south to Africa, east to the Middle East.

Horne couldn’t tear his eyes away, shock written all over his face.

This was the dream of his childhood—a dream he knew he’d never reach in his lifetime.

“Most of it’s done. Where do you want to go?” Hels asked. His voice echoed fuzzily in Horne’s mind, like the drifting clouds below.

Anywhere. Everywhere he had ever longed for.

Hels shrugged at the silence. “Fine, I’ll pick.”

The stars compressed into blinding light. Horne threw up a hand to shield his eyes.

Seagulls cried, waves crashed. The wind carried salt and fish, sweeping into a bustling market. Pigeons scattered from the stalls.

Horne opened his eyes to an indigo sky. A few steps away, a massive rock jutted from the sea, and atop it sat a girl with her legs neatly together.

He had been born to a ruined Earth, most land long buried under ice and snow. The fabled cities and their splendor were gone. Sometimes he wondered if that beautiful world had ever been real.

This was everything he had dreamed of countless times—yet he had never seen it, never smelled it. Never, never!

Horne’s heart pounded out of control, his breaths coming fast and shallow. He couldn’t hold it back. His pulse thrummed against his skin.