Chapter 30

When Horne returned to the Red Light District, he was truly out of strength. His lips were pale from excessive blood loss, and he sat down at the bar counter for a temporary rest.

He did not even ask whether the Aliens would keep their promise if he truly killed Hels. He had been deceived by the Aliens too many times; the answer was always probabilistic, not a guarantee.

Wan Ji had just returned after delivering a glass of wine. He was startled by Horne’s appearance. “Mr. Horne? You? What’s this, so much blood?!”

He cried out in alarm.

Horne found it noisy. He lifted his head slightly and said weakly, “It’s already been handled.”

His clothes were torn into several strips. As soon as he left the Tower, he had bound them around his arms and thighs. Only after the bleeding stopped did he slowly make his way back, though his clothes were all soaked through.

Wan Ji was flustered for a moment. He asked, “Should I call an ambulance for you?”

“No need.”

“Then should I call Mr. Hels for you?”

“Mix two aperitifs!” someone shouted from nearby.

Wan Ji did not wait for Horne’s reply and hurriedly went to get the drinks.

Horne propped his head up, half-squinting his eyes.

When had his injuries reached the point where he needed to notify Hels?

“I’m telling you, I got curious today and went to check out the city gate. I wanted to see the outside, but I nearly got killed by the guards. Scared me to death!”

A nearby table had a man and a woman sitting there. Their conversation was loud enough to reach Horne’s ears clearly.

The man seemed disinterested, even a bit impatient. “What’s there to see? You don’t actually want to go out, do you? Outside is just snowfields. What else is there?”

The woman slapped the table a few times, her tone somewhat agitated. “Just take a look! Didn’t someone say Earth used to be beautiful? What if there are ruins?”

The man scoffed and interrupted her. “You believe whatever others say? Sometimes I even doubt if the world outside the gates exists. Who can prove it? I’ve never been out.”

The woman continued, “There might still be something out there. I couldn’t get out through the city gate today, so I even thought about jumping over the wall.”

“You’re crazy!” The man lowered his voice. “I think you want to get killed by a recon drone.”

The woman shrugged. “I just want to take a look.”

The man snorted coldly, picked up his glass, and took two sips. “Even if there’s a world outside, it must be terrifying, dangerous, and chaotic. Otherwise, why can’t we go out?”

Wan Ji returned with an empty tray. Seeing Horne toying with his wine glass, he asked, “Are you feeling better?”

Horne took two deep breaths and nodded lightly. He changed the subject. “Do you… know anything about Hels?”

Since Ye Shu had said Wan Ji was a know-it-all, these questions should not be difficult.

But they stumped Wan Ji. He scratched his head, puzzled. “Which aspect?”

“All of them.”

Wan Ji looked troubled. “All of them? No one knows everything about Mr. Hels. He prefers to act alone. Sometimes he’s in the Red Light District, sometimes making masks somewhere else, sometimes… in other places. The only one often by his side is You Wenjie.”

“What kind of person is Hels?”

Wan Ji simply sat down behind the bar and poured Horne a cup of hot water.

“Thanks.” Horne held the glass and took two sips.

Wan Ji eyed Horne’s disheveled state and roughly guessed what had happened. He thought for a moment and said, “A completely inscrutable person. No one knows his principles or motivations. He seems to act for humanity, yet also helps the Aliens. And the Tower ignores him—everyone fears him even more.”

The Tower had raised a wolf themselves, only to have to clean up the mess in the end. When it proved too difficult, they found someone to take the fall. Horne wondered, if he had not awakened, how would the Tower have dealt with Hels? If this Kill Order was just to force him to the Tower and issue him another command, then the one they truly feared was Hels.

Though he had heard so many rumors, he had never experienced them firsthand. In Horne’s mind, he still could not connect the terrifying Hels of legend with the Hels he knew.

A roar came from somewhere—someone had lost a bet and was violently pounding the table.

Wan Ji glanced toward the source of the noise, then refocused. He spoke earnestly. “The best way to truly understand someone is to become their enemy, then their lover. Or vice versa.”

Horne said flatly, “What if neither?”

Wan Ji shrugged. “Then it depends on whether that person wants to be understood by you.”

As they talked, someone else called for Wan Ji to mix a drink. He quickly prepared it, delivered it, and returned.

“Compared to Mr. Hels, I’m actually more curious about you.”

“Me?” Horne frowned and set down his glass.

“Yes.” Wan Ji nodded. “Mr. Hels doesn’t care about others’ joys or sorrows, but he’s… so special toward you. So sometimes I wonder, what are you like under the mask to deserve such gentleness from him?”

“Gentleness?” Horne reacted as if hearing a word outside his cognition, but he thought about it and realized it seemed that way—if that could be called gentleness.

“He’s not like that with others?” Horne asked.

Wan Ji smiled. “Would a gentle person earn people’s love, or fear?”

Horne’s thoughts drifted far. He recalled the soft lighting, the warm fingertips tracing his back, the rhythmic breaths brushing against it, making his fingertips tingle. Even now, it sent a shiver through him.

He truly was not afraid of Hels. He could not tell if it was because he never feared him to begin with, or because this person was too gentle.

“The masks hide everyone, so I’m very curious—what kind of person are you?”

Horne had pondered this question from the time he was still in the Holographic Game until now. Especially after being stirred by Ais’s words, he felt both helpless and a touch of sorrow.

He believed humanity should not be this disordered. They should at least resist something. But with the masks on, no one knew if the person across from them was friend or foe, and building familiarity required time and energy.

Horne slowly stood up. Wan Ji thought he did not want to answer and was leaving, but Horne’s next action shocked him.

Horne’s hand rested on the edge of his mask.

“Mr. Horne! You can’t remove the mask!” Wan Ji shouted in terror.

His shout drew looks from several nearby tables. Those who heard turned their attention this way.

Horne’s hand remained on his face. Then, he tore at one corner.

A wine bottle smashed toward him—from the man who had been discussing the city gate.

Horne heard the whoosh and turned his head. The bottle grazed his ear and flew past.

“Crash!” It shattered on the ground, foam splattering everywhere.

“Are you fucking crazy?!” the man roared.

Wan Ji stepped back, hands outstretched as if pushing, astonished. “Calm down! This will attract a recon drone.”

Horne paused his actions and suddenly smiled faintly. He said softly, “Didn’t you just say you wanted to know what I’m like under the mask?”

Wan Ji wore a look of lingering shock. Seeing no further movement from Horne, he patted his chest to calm himself. “Yes, yes, but I don’t want to attract a recon drone. I don’t want to die.”

“If a recon drone comes, won’t it be me who dies?”

“Don’t do this. Recon drones sometimes hit bystanders too.”

Seeing his extremely guarded posture, Horne’s smile gradually faded. He said coolly, “Is that all? You all sigh about the hypocrisy of everyone hiding behind masks, but when someone actually wants to remove theirs…”

Horne’s gaze swept the surroundings: the people standing up, the vigilant eyes, the hands poised to attack. If he continued, these people would turn into beasts and tear him apart—and he was clearly badly injured now.

Wan Ji still explained earnestly, “Sir, because the recon drones will come. I don’t want to die.”

Horne sat back down, lowered his hand, and resealed the mask on his face. Wan Ji breathed a sigh of relief.

Horne’s voice was soft, like murmuring to himself. “But when a recon drone attacks you, why is accepting it your only choice?”

The people around glanced at Horne suspiciously, confirmed he had stopped, and sat back down—though their vigilant gazes swept over occasionally.

Amid Wan Ji’s bewildered look, Horne said slowly, “Actually, there’s something I regret deeply. I made the wrong choice. At the time, I just didn’t want trouble, because I had the Holographic Game the next day, and I’d promised to team up with someone. So that night, I removed my mask… then put it back on.”

At the time, he had forgotten one thing: mistakes do not cause harm—reasonable mistakes do.

He thought he was weighing pros and cons, but actually, he had found a reason to avoid inner conflict and believed it wholeheartedly.

“Mr. Horne,” Wan Ji said softly, “I’m just an ordinary person.”

Horne nodded. He pulled out the ordinary handgun You Wenjie had given him from a hidden compartment under the bar, placed it on the counter, and slid it gently toward Wan Ji.

The black handgun showed signs of wear and had considerable weight. Wan Ji looked at it puzzledly from both sides.

Horne stood up and slowly walked toward the elevator hall.

Horne lay upstairs in the Red Light District for several days to recover, constantly thinking about the events in his memories and about Hels.

The Red Light District was right on Number One Central Avenue. From the window, he could see the distant Tower District and the northern city gate at the other end. It was somewhat far; the gate was tightly shut, shrouded in haze.

It resembled the gray-black, eerie fog he had seen in the game.

Two days later, when Horne received a message from Hels, he was in the Red Light District proper.

Hels said he had arranged the best doctor for him and could take him there tomorrow.

Horne closed the terminal and quietly watched the boy in front of him.

The boy was very frightened, shrinking his neck and not daring to look at Horne, because Horne had been staring at him expressionlessly for a long time.

Horne simply could not equate this frail boy with his image of someone from a Military District lineage.

He had checked the list Hels had given him earlier and found they were almost all sex workers and bottom-tier laborers from the Red Light District.

The room had only two ice-blue light strips glowing. A few minutes later, they changed color, making the large bed in the center look like it floated on a nighttime sea.

Intoxicating incense wafted, and music flowed.

After a long while, the boy asked softly and cautiously, “Sir, shall we start? Do you need me to use my mouth first…”

“…”

Horne interrupted him immediately. “I’m not here for that.”

The boy choked up a bit. He was very uneasy, rubbing the bedsheets with his hands nonstop, his gaze flickering, fearing a difficult customer.

Horne asked directly, “Your grandfather, or further back, was once in the human military, right?”

The question stunned the boy; he had not expected it. He thought for a moment, turned his head aside, and said awkwardly, “I… I don’t know.”

Horne explained, “I won’t do anything to you. I’m just investigating something. Once I ask, I’ll leave. You can pretend I was never here, and no one will trouble you.”

The boy turned back, staring blankly at Horne. After a moment, he nodded.

“My parents told me before that our ancestors were human military soldiers, but they forbade me from saying it.” He was still nervous as he spoke, frequently lowering and raising his eyes, secretly observing Horne’s expression. Having worked here long-term, he knew how to respond to every guest’s expression and tone.

Horne remained impassive. “Why are you doing this kind of work in the Red Light District?”

By his looks, the boy was not yet twenty.

The boy lowered his head further, his voice even smaller. “I… I don’t dare say.”

Horne thought for a moment and softened his voice. “Did Hels force you here?”

The boy shuddered suddenly. He bit his lip and did not answer.

Horne phrased it himself. “He threatened you, not allowing you to live in your own homes, so you and your family came to work and live in the Red Light District, right?”

The other did not speak. Horne walked over, sat beside him, took the boy’s hand and clasped it between his own palms, fully enclosing it. Then, in a voice only they could hear, he said, “If I’m right, move your finger once.”

The boy’s expression showed surprise.

Horne asked, “Is there a camera in the room?”

The boy was silent for a long time. Then he lightly moved his finger between Horne’s palms, hooking his palm heart—unseen from outside.

“What I just said—is it true?”

It moved again.

Horne thought seriously for a moment and asked, “Many people here are like you.”

‘Mm.’

“You’re not very old, so these things should have been told to you by your parents’ generation.”

‘Mm.’

“I’ve heard that Hels went mad, rushed into other people’s homes and killed indiscriminately, causing many families to fall apart, killing a lot of people, and driving the survivors all to the Red Light District.”

The boy didn’t move.

Horne was somewhat surprised, because when he had listened to Han Ya talk about Hels’s past, there had been this detail, so it seemed the urban legend wasn’t entirely accurate.

“One last question.” Horne patted his hand, signaling him to relax, because he felt sweat continuously seeping from the boy’s palm.

“Those driven to live in the Red Light District, like you and your parents, your ancestors were all from the human military.”

After a long time, the fingers in his palm moved.

Horne stood up, pulled out two pieces of paper and handed them to him, then pointed at the sweat on his head.

“Thanks,” Horne said.

Horne didn’t only ask him. After leaving his room, Horne found seven or eight people in succession. Most gave the same answers, but two were very firm and refused to reveal any information, even calling security.

In the end, Horne was escorted out by Ye Shu.

Ye Shu pressed her hands together, her face full of sorrow: “Dear Five Thousand, we can’t take advantage of Hels spoiling you to act so recklessly.”

Horne: “?”

Horne refuted very calmly: “There’s no spoiling relationship between us.”

Ye Shu plastered a smile on her face: “Heh heh.”

‘Then tell me, who gave you the Resident Chip permissions to freely enter and exit every area of the Red Light District?’ But Ye Shu didn’t voice this question. She just felt they must have argued again… Oh, she got it. No wonder Horne had lived so long; he must be a tough one to deal with. Indeed, a cold-faced cool guy like that definitely wouldn’t blush and shout “hubby” in bed.

Horne’s mind wasn’t on guessing what others thought. His head was full of his deal with Ais, the information on the Red Light District workers, and his lost memories. Every matter was like a giant stone, pressing painfully on his chest.

He still didn’t know Ains’s situation.

Even when he met Hels the next day, it was still the same.