chapter 34

"My personal skill." Bai Liu, weak and wan, managed a faint smile. "You're quite curious, aren't you? Would you like me to demonstrate my personal skill once more? My stamina is completely depleted now—if you give me a stamina potion, I'll show you again."

"Of course, I won't take your potion for nothing." Bai Liu, employing his old trick, produced a single point coin and smiled. "How about I trade you one point for it?"

Mu Sicheng: "…"

Hah, only a fool would trade with you!

One minute later.

[System notification: Transaction complete. The Wanderer Bai Liu has received a stamina potion.]

[System notification: Player Mu Sicheng has gifted player Bai Liu a stamina potion, valued at 180 points, restoring 90 stamina.]

Mu Sicheng was on the verge of madness. He wanted nothing more than to strangle this lazy scoundrel, who was now leisurely sipping the potion, right then and there. He glared at Bai Liu and demanded through gritted teeth, "How did you do it? Theft and robbery are forbidden here! Only trades and gifts between players are allowed! There's no way you could have stolen from my game inventory!"

And right in front of him! Twice! A repeat performance!

He had always been the one to steal from others—never before had he been robbed himself!

"Personal skill." Bai Liu drained the potion in one breath, feeling strength return to his limbs. With a faint, mocking smile, he cast a sidelong glance at Mu Sicheng. "If you'd like another demonstration, I can—"

"No, that's enough." Mu Sicheng cut him off, expressionless. If he fell for Bai Liu's tricks again, he'd be a complete fool.

"Ah, my lodging fee is about to expire. I need to log out," Wang Shun said, bidding Bai Liu farewell and offering a reminder. "Bai Liu, you have to pay a daily lodging fee to stay in the game lobby. The amount depends on your level—at your rank, it's 100 points per day."

"My fee's about to expire, so I'll log off now. See you next time." Wang Shun politely took his leave from Bai Liu and Mu Sicheng.

"Tch, I need to go too." Mu Sicheng glanced at his watch, then at Bai Liu. "I have things to do in the real world. I'll find you next time, Bai Liu."

"Next time, I'll come find you for a game." Mu Sicheng suddenly flashed a wicked grin. "Everything you swindled from me today, I'll take back, Bai Liu."

With that, the two vanished from the game lobby. Having once been shown the way by Wang Shun, Bai Liu retraced his steps to the exit of the [Newcomer Zone], where Mu Ke, trembling and disheveled, cowered in a corner, tear-streaked and pitiful.

This young master was, in truth, quite handsome—a delicate, almost ethereal beauty reminiscent of a Japanese youth. In this moment, with reddened eyes and tear-laden lashes, he looked so fragile that any girl would be moved to tears and want to comfort him.

But Bai Liu, a game designer whose only loves were money and the terrifying bosses he created, had little maternal instinct left for anything but his own creations and cash. Human beauty left him unmoved; it would take a visage on par with the Siren King to stir him.

Bai Liu crouched down. Mu Ke shrank back warily, bristling like a cornered animal, eyes still wet with tears, his expression fierce and defensive. "Get lost!"

"Our first—no, our second meeting, Young Master Mu." At Bai Liu's words, Mu Ke froze, staring up at him in a daze, tears dripping from his lashes to the floor. He hiccupped, but no longer told Bai Liu to leave, simply gazing at him, transfixed.

Mu Ke recognized that voice—the one that had saved him at the brink of death, the one to whom he had sold his soul. With a mere two hundred points, this self-proclaimed penniless wanderer had incinerated the monsters that had haunted him.

Bai Liu looked down at Mu Ke, calm and unruffled. "This is the second time you've seen me, though it seems you don't remember. No matter. After all, our relationship has changed."

"So then, Mu Ke, let's consider this our first meeting. I am now the holder of your soul's debt. My name is Bai Liu." He extended his hand.

After a long, long moment, Mu Ke finally broke down, sobbing uncontrollably as he flung himself into Bai Liu's arms, clutching him tightly. Tears he had held back for so long poured forth, and he wept like a lost child finally reunited with a parent.

"Why did you take so long to come?!"

In that moment, Mu Ke believed he was embracing the devil he had no choice but to rely on. Only much later would he realize that the being he clung to was a god disguised as a demon.

He offered Bai Liu his faith and soul; Bai Liu granted him a heart and a new life.

Bai Liu logged out of the game with the young master Mu Ke in tow, materializing in his own home.

It was nearly midnight. The young master's eyes were like fountains; he cried the entire night, sobbing himself into unconsciousness, all the while clutching Bai Liu's shirt sleeve in a death grip. Whenever Bai Liu suggested he go home, Mu Ke's wails threatened to bring down the roof—he refused to leave, insisting that since he had sold his soul to Bai Liu, Bai Liu had no right to drive him away.

He was, in fact, quite indignant about it.

Bai Liu attributed this to a combination of imprinting and the bridge effect, which had caused the young master to develop an intense sense of security toward the "devil" who was supposed to play the villain. Unless Mu Ke could soon recover from his trauma, he was unlikely to leave Bai Liu's home of his own accord.

But Bai Liu had no desire to keep Mu Ke around.

The reason was simple: the young master's crying was unbearably annoying.

So, five minutes after Mu Ke fell asleep, Bai Liu called his immediate superior to come collect the boss's son, who was now refusing to leave his house.

Bai Liu's superior was so shocked by the call that he spilled coffee all over his keyboard.

He had never much liked Bai Liu as a subordinate—Bai Liu always insisted on his own ideas when designing games, refusing to add whatever trendy elements the market demanded, claiming the plot was already full or that adding more would cause bugs. It wasn't a big deal, but the superior disliked Bai Liu's disobedience; an employee should simply do as he's told, not make excuses and act as if he were above it all.

But after Mu Ke took over Bai Liu's position and did almost nothing, the superior was forced to clean up after the young master and realized that Bai Liu hadn't been making excuses—he had simply been telling the truth.

Now, with Mu Ke in his care, the superior found himself the target of endless demands and ideas, tormented daily. Whenever he protested that something couldn't be done, Mu Ke would sneer and threaten to replace him with someone more compliant.

His own position was now precarious. The young master had finally disappeared for a day, only to turn up at Bai Liu's house!

The superior couldn't help but wonder about the true nature of Bai Liu's relationship with Mu Ke… but speculation was pointless. Officially, he was Mu Ke's superior, but in reality, he was more like a nanny, and had no choice but to come collect him.

When the superior arrived at Bai Liu's home, Mu Ke was still asleep. The superior felt awkward and guilty, but Bai Liu was unbothered. Before leaving the game, Bai Liu had exchanged points for a hundred thousand yuan—the game's points were surprisingly valuable, with an exchange rate of one thousand to one, so a hundred points equaled a hundred thousand yuan.

With money in hand, Bai Liu felt at peace with the world. Even when faced with his clueless, meddlesome superior, he politely opened the door and said, "Mu Ke is still sleeping. He cried all night and only just fell asleep. Please don't wake him."

Bai Liu's real intention was to avoid another headache from Mu Ke's crying, but Mu Ke, still clutching Bai Liu's shirt (which Bai Liu had simply given to him), curled up on the bed, his eyes and nose red, his body marked with suspicious bruises (aftereffects of the game). Coupled with Bai Liu's words, the superior was overwhelmed by the implications and stiffly replied, "Oh."

So this is the kind of relationship Bai Liu and Mu Ke have! Why didn't Bai Liu say so sooner? He wouldn't dare fire Bai Liu now!

"Perhaps… you should let Mu Ke sleep here a while longer, Bai Liu." The superior was too afraid to wake Mu Ke, who was notorious for his temper when roused, especially after a night like this.

Moreover, it seemed odd—Bai Liu had left the young master in such a state, then called someone to take him away. It felt… rather heartless.

Bai Liu, of course, refused. "No. Take him away. His crying is intolerable."

The superior: "!!!!"

How could anyone say something so callous with such composure?

Mu Ke was awakened by their voices. His lashes fluttered, and, not yet fully conscious, he instinctively clutched the shirt tighter, murmuring softly, "Bai Liu…"

The superior's expression grew even more complicated, his gaze accusatory. Bai Liu, however, was unfazed—he was used to such looks from his superior, who always glared at him whenever his suggestions were rejected. Bai Liu simply called out, "Mu Ke, get up. Someone's here to take you home."

Mu Ke slowly came to, and upon seeing the superior at his bedside, realized Bai Liu had summoned someone to collect him.

His reaction was intense. He instinctively reached for Bai Liu's hand, glaring at the superior with the hostility of a cat about to be taken somewhere it didn't want to go. "Go away! I'm not leaving—I'm staying here!"

"This is my home," Bai Liu replied coolly, evading Mu Ke's grasp. "And I do not permit you to stay. Go home, Mu Ke."

Mu Ke froze, turning to look at Bai Liu. His attempt to seize Bai Liu's hand failed, and his eyes reddened once more. "Bai Liu, I'll be good. Please don't send me away…"

"I'm ordering you, as the one who holds your soul, Mu Ke," Bai Liu said calmly. "You have no right to refuse."

Bai Liu understood why Mu Ke was so reluctant to leave—his survival instinct was strong, and Bai Liu had saved him at his lowest point. Subconsciously, Mu Ke now equated "staying with Bai Liu" with "staying alive." It wasn't so much dependence on Bai Liu as it was terror at the thought of being without his protection.

Tears slid down Mu Ke's cheeks. He bit his lip, gazing at Bai Liu for a long time before finally obeying, climbing out of bed, pale and trembling, to stand behind the superior, his fear plain to see.

Watching Mu Ke, Bai Liu felt compelled to offer guidance to the soul he now owned, much as the system guided its players.

"Mu Ke, if you remain this fragile, unable to survive without me, and fail to become more valuable to me, I will soon abandon you. Do you understand? I can always find others like you, but you have only me."

"I… I understand." Mu Ke's lips were bloodless as he wiped his eyes, struggling to stifle his sobs. "I'll do my best to be useful to you."

The superior, who had witnessed the entire exchange, was left speechless, as if he'd just watched a cold-hearted, manipulative drama unfold before his eyes. Stunned, he glanced fearfully at Bai Liu.

How dare Bai Liu speak to the young master like that! Who was he, really?

Mu Ke followed the dazed superior out. Once outside, the superior, unable to contain himself, finally asked, "Young Master Mu, what exactly is your relationship with Bai Liu?"

"What relationship?" Mu Ke's eyes were vacant, as if speaking to himself. "I belong to him. He owns my soul. He is my master."

The superior: "…"

What on earth are you people playing at?!

Who would have thought that Bai Liu, who seemed so upright, was secretly a master of S&M—and a top-tier one at that, to have tamed even a proud young master like Mu Ke into such a docile kitten…

The superior shuddered, leading Mu Ke away in silent misery.

—He felt as though he had just dismissed someone truly extraordinary.

——————

After Mu Ke left, Bai Liu powered on the top-of-the-line Alienware computer Mu Ke had given him as compensation and began searching for information on "Siren Town."

He tried every method—direct searches, reverse lookups, searching for names like Jerf and Andre—but found nothing. Rubbing his stiff neck, Bai Liu pondered. It seemed the game truly did not exist in reality. But if it was a virtual construct…

Bai Liu's gaze darkened as he drew out a string from around his neck, from which hung a coin with a hole in the center—his in-game manager. He idly flipped it across the back of his hand, but the coin remained inert, no game panel appearing. He fell into deep thought.

—If the game were purely virtual, how had this object followed him into "reality"?

Moreover, when Bai Liu fiddled with the coin, it separated from a wafer-thin scale, a translucent, icy fish scale threaded onto the string and resting against the coin, shimmering with iridescent light.

It was only after leaving the game that Bai Liu realized the scale had appeared around his neck. If he guessed correctly, it was the item he had received—the [Siren's Reverse Scale]. He had no idea how it had come with him from the game without his ever retrieving it.

But considering the system's advice—[The scale represents the Siren King's favor. The player is encouraged to wear it long-term]—and finding nothing amiss after a night of wearing it, Bai Liu let it be.

Still, this was what troubled him. If the game were a virtual construct akin to a "memory palace," a product of consciousness, it would not make sense for tangible objects like the coin and the scale to exist. The game, then, must be an objective, real entity.

But if it existed, there should be traces—yet Bai Liu found no evidence of the game's existence online. This was deeply strange.

After all, he could not be the only player; each session admitted a hundred players. If even one or two survivors posted anything about the game on a forum, Weibo, or social media, in this era of rapid data exchange, Bai Liu would have found it. But there was nothing even remotely similar.

Anything that has existed must leave a trace… Bai Liu mused. The only explanation for the absence of evidence—

Was that the traces had been erased.

Narrowing his eyes, Bai Liu opened Weibo and posted a detailed message about "Siren Town" and the game. He watched as, before his eyes, the post faded and vanished as if it had never existed.