Chapter 13 Is there a malfunction?

The electrode chip resonated with the external neural interface, synchronizing frequencies that stimulated the brain, pulling their consciousness deep into Infinity Haven. Liam and Matthew entered together.

Freedom City, 199 Lumora Avenue—this was the virtual counterpart of Ravenwick Theological Seminary within Infinity Haven. It served as the hub for online courses and the academy's various metaverse projects, acting as a crucial point of connection.

The institution stood proudly on the bustling Lumora Avenue, occupying a vast expanse in Freedom City's most prosperous district. Notably, Lumora Technologies had established an exclusive data compartment and independent terminal storage service for the academy. In a digital realm where data equated to space, securing a dedicated partition from Lumora Technologies was a testament to Theological Seminary's immense financial power and influential network.

…

Liam waited at the entrance of the virtual campus for about twenty minutes before an air taxi descended onto the roadside. Matthew stepped out, grumbling, "This is robbery. Send me the travel data—I'm getting a reimbursement."

"Buddy, it's 20MB. Do you seriously need a receipt? You know I gotta pay taxes to Lumora Technologies for this, right?" The driver, clearly exasperated, shot back in the real world.

"Just get it done. Cut the crap." Matthew waved impatiently.

The driver scoffed, reluctantly transferring the travel data to Matthew. As he piloted the taxi away, he muttered under his breath, "Pathetic. Hope you stay broke forever!"

Matthew approached Liam. "Let's go."

"Alright," Liam nodded.

As newly enrolled students at Ravenwick Theological Seminary, both had undergone Infinity Haven's data registration process upon admission. Entering the virtual campus required no additional identity verification. The security scanner at the entrance merely ran a brief scan before seamlessly opening the transparent energy gate.

To be precise, it was a data air wall—an impenetrable barrier that would deny entry to any unauthorized individual, no matter how much force they tried to use, even if they blasted it with artillery.

Ten minutes later, inside an independent laboratory on the third floor of the teaching building.

Matthew, clad in a pale pink trench coat and topped with a denim hat, spoke with casual confidence, "I need you to grant Level One memory access and use the Linked Memory Scene Simulator to fully reconstruct the events of that night. Do you consent?"

"No problem, I'll extract the data for you." Liam studied Matthew for a moment before asking, "But do you even have a Linked Memory Device?"

"Of course I do—already linked to my neural interface." Matthew removed his denim hat, revealing a slightly receding hairline that lent an oddly charming quality to his appearance.

"What's up with your hairstyle?" Liam chuckled.

"Unhealthy lifestyle, digital-age baldness. Hair transplants cost over 20,000MB—I can't afford that." Matthew continued working as he spoke. "Might as well stay bald. Doesn't affect my job."

"What's your profession in Infinity Haven?" Liam asked, intrigued.

"I run a law firm."

"Virtual crime litigation?" Liam raised an eyebrow. "That must be pretty lucrative."

"Litigation, my ass. I specialize in investigating affairs and tracking virtual asset transfers." Matthew scoffed. "I'm just an average guy—no connections, no powerful backing. Even if I memorized every legal statute, no one would hire me for a serious case."

Liam nodded thoughtfully before settling into a chair, allowing his consciousness to sink into deep focus. He swiftly accessed the memory stored in his neural electrode chip, extracted the crucial data from the night of the incident, and directly transmitted it to Matthew.

In Infinity Haven, the protection of personal memories is governed by stringent regulations. No organization, nor any official authority, is permitted to intrude upon an individual's memory privacy without consent. If caught, the severity of the crime dictates the punishment.

For minor infractions, the offender faces restricted access to Infinity Haven and legal prosecution in the real world. For more egregious violations, the maximum penalty includes a death sentence in reality and permanent data erasure within the virtual realm.

However, if an individual willingly chooses to share their memories with another, it does not constitute a breach of the law. Granting Level One Memory Access is entirely legal, as it is akin to voluntarily offering a fragment of one's life for others to witness. The recipient cannot alter the data, nor can they access any memories beyond the selected portion, ensuring no violation of privacy occurs.

—

Upon receiving Liam's memory data, Matthew immediately activated the Linked Memory Scene Simulator, reconstructing the precise events of that fateful night.

What unfolded was a scene of staggering realism.

Within the confines of an expansive laboratory—spanning over a hundred square meters—the environment rapidly transformed. The lighting vanished, plunging the room into utter darkness.

Standing at the center of the empty expanse, Liam and Matthew could distinctly perceive the subtle tremors rippling through the void.

"This was how it felt at the time?" Matthew inquired.

"Yes. I had just regained consciousness—he was tampering with my head." Liam's voice was steady yet laced with residual unease.

Three seconds later, a sharp electronic beeping sound resonated through the space, followed by the unmistakable echo of hurried footsteps.

Silence. A brief, unsettling silence.

Then, faint slivers of light seeped through the darkness above. Gradually, the ceiling's suspended lamps, ventilation ducts, and slightly yellowed panels came into view.

Matthew furrowed his brows as he scrutinized the unfolding scene. "He left?"

"Yes, that was when I woke up," Liam confirmed with a nod.

As the two conversed, the room was suddenly flooded with light. Directly ahead, a row of mortuary storage drawers emerged—aged, metallic, and ice-cold—exuding an eerie and foreboding presence.

A moment later, on Matthew's right, walls materialized, along with additional rows of body storage units and ventilation ducts, each rendered with uncanny realism.

The first-person perspective of this simulation was an exact replication of Liam's experience that fateful night—the moment he awoke in agony after his skull had been incised.

Every reconstructed scene, along with its gradual dissolution, was a faithful rendering of what Liam had witnessed with his own eyes. Areas within his field of vision appeared vivid and sharp, while those he hadn't paid attention to were either blurry or left as indistinct voids.

The room trembled with an unsettling, rhythmic motion. Before them, a bloodstained gurney materialized, surrounded by a clutter of high-tech medical instruments stacked atop a mobile cart. Just as swiftly as they appeared, the objects began to dissolve into nothingness.

"Do you want to pause for a moment?" Liam asked.

"No need. Let's run through it all first," Matthew replied, shaking his head.

The instant his words fell, a mortuary chamber flickered into focus on the left wall. The surrounding environment remained hazy, shrouded in indistinct shadows.

"You have quick reflexes," Matthew remarked with a smirk.

"I'm not an idiot. I didn't know if he had an accomplice—I was only thinking about survival," Liam responded curtly.

The scene shifted once more. This time, the perspective moved rapidly toward the dissecting room's main entrance, shaking slightly with each step.

A figure emerged—Liam, hunched over, his left hand pressed tightly against the back of his head while his right flicked droplets of blood onto the floor, forming a crimson trail that extended into the corridor.

Another transition. The mortuary chamber took shape again. Liam was seen yanking open one of the large drawers, bending low as he slipped into its icy confines, leaving a slight gap above to clandestinely observe the events outside.

Moments later, the black-clad figure reappeared, his movements betraying a faint hint of agitation. In his grip gleamed the sharp edge of a surgical scalpel.

"You're really not going to pause and examine the details?" Liam asked, curiosity laced in his voice.

"You don't know shit. Investigations require uninterrupted cognitive flow," Matthew shot back, his pastel pink trench coat swaying slightly. With each tilt of his head, his slightly unkempt strands of hair fluttered chaotically.

Matthew did not opt to pause; instead, he continued observing as the reconstructed scene unfolded, meticulously analyzing every detail of that fateful night.

Seconds stretched into minutes, and Liam, now drenched in sweat, clenched his fists and exclaimed, "Genius! Absolute genius! Given the circumstances, no one could have acted with more brilliance than I did. Every decision I made that night was the optimal choice."

"Utter foolishness!" Matthew scoffed. "There was a sign in the hallway that clearly stated the passage closed at 9:30, yet you ran straight into the back courtyard. If that isn't idiotic, I don't know what is. You panicked. No attention to detail."

"…If it were you, you wouldn't have panicked?"

"If it were me, I would have asked, 'What do you need my electrode chip for? Can you pay for it? How much are you offering?' If the price was right, I'd have just plucked it out and handed it over. No need for all that unnecessary struggle."

"Right. You're a true businessman at heart," Liam muttered in exasperation.

As they bantered, the scene had already progressed to the moment when Liam burst into the basketball court. Just as Matthew was preparing to witness an intense showdown, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over him. His vision blurred, and the once-clear environment around him began to distort.

"Hold on a second." Matthew raised his hand abruptly.

"What's wrong?" Liam asked.

"My neural interface seems to be glitching—it's all scrambled." As Matthew spoke, his virtual form flickered erratically, like an old television screen on the brink of malfunction.

"Didn't you just get a new neural interface?"

"Yeah, well, it's clearly defective." His voice crackled, fragmented by static. "Give me a minute… I need to log out, swap to a different unit, and reconnect."

"Alright, go ahead." Liam didn't think much of it. Mass-produced neural interfaces occasionally suffered from defects—it wasn't unheard of.

With a sharp flicker, Matthew vanished. The moment he logged out, the linked memory reconstruction collapsed, the entire simulated environment shattering into oblivion.

Liam, with nothing better to do, lay flat on the floor, gazing up at the ceiling as he sifted through the fragments of that night's events, preparing to assist Matthew with the analysis later.

Truth be told, Liam had always felt that Matthew was unreliable—more like a hustler chasing after money than a legitimate investigator. He couldn't quite understand why Daniel had chosen someone like him for such a critical case.

Tap. Tap.

Just as Liam was deep in thought, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed from beyond the door. Instinctively, he sat up to observe, only to see Daniel enter with his hands clasped behind his back.

"You… why are you here?" Liam asked, startled as he quickly got to his feet.

Daniel let out a weary sigh. "Just finished the discussion on Dr. William's case. I figured I'd stop by. Matthew's neural interface malfunctioned, so he'll be delayed a bit. In the meantime, I thought we could have a chat."

"Alright." Liam nodded.

Daniel took a measured glance at him before gesturing toward the seat. "Sit."

…

In the real world, inside the neural interface connection chamber of Ravenwick Theological Seminary, Matthew stepped out of the connection pod, frowning as he fiddled with his neural device.

"Shit… what kind of garbage quality is this?" he muttered in irritation.

Beside him, Liam remained inside his connection pod, his complexion serene, his face showing no signs of distress.

At the doorway, a shadowy figure lingered for a fleeting moment, stealing a glance at the two before slipping away unnoticed.