[Second World – ABO Plot – Poor Beta Student] Chapter 67
To prevent students from gaming the credit system, once courses were selected at the beginning of each academic year, they could no longer be changed, including electives. The academy’s AI automatically deducted credits for absences. Five missed classes and more than forty credits lost, and the academy would consider expelling the student permanently, with no chance of readmission.
Lu Chi’s schedule had been locked in long ago, leaving no room for adjustments. He glanced over his elective timetable:
Desserts. Flower arranging. Meditation. Tea culture…
Then he remembered the schedule he’d seen on Lin Jingsi’s terminal the night before:
Mecha training. Combat training. Simulation training. Close-quarters combat…
Good grief. The man was basically a full-time professional trainee.
Chuckling, Lu Chi shook his head and continued walking with his simple leather satchel slung over one shoulder.
The morning was bright and sunny. The Federation Academy certainly made good use of its astronomical tuition fees, for the campus was lavish enough to have its own trams and elevated rail system.
The architecture leaned toward a Western aesthetic. Each department occupied its own separate district, the boundaries as distinct as blocks on a map. Along the way, he passed plenty of people fitted with cybernetic prosthetics. The green lawns lining the roads were misted with fine sprays of water, while swarms of mechanical surveillance drones circled overhead, making the entire place feel like a cyberpunk cultivation sect.
Blending into the crowd, Lu Chi looked around with obvious interest.
His destination was the Desserts elective classroom in the western part of campus. After about five minutes on the tram, it stopped in front of a palace-like building. Stepping inside, Lu Chi discovered that the interior was even more extravagant.
An enormous crystal chandelier glittered overhead. Gray European-style tables and chairs were arranged neatly throughout the spacious room. Every workstation was stocked with an assortment of ingredients and equipment, with fresh fruit adding bright splashes of color.
The previous night, while traveling across the city with Lin Jingsi, Lu Chi had noticed that Grade B strawberries at the smart supermarket were selling for the outrageous price of four hundred interstellar credits apiece.
Here…
They were simply free classroom supplies.
The absurd disparity laid the Federation’s class hierarchy bare. No wonder everyone fought desperately to climb higher… In the Federation, poor people seemed destined to be trampled beneath everyone else’s feet.
But besides gender, another invisible force determined their fate:
Mental power.
Even now, Lu Chi still didn’t understand why he could perceive mental energy so effortlessly. After thinking for a moment, he lowered his eyes and asked the system, [What was the original plan for leaving this world?]
[Separate the protagonist couple and make sure their compatibility falls below thirty percent, preventing them from forming a permanent bond.] The system answered honestly.
Among Alphas and Omegas, the concept of pheromone compatibility existed, but if compatibility fell below thirty percent, it meant both body and mind instinctively rejected the other person. From the system’s perspective, that counted as a biological separation.
In the original novel, every June, “Cocoon” would publicly announce annual compatibility results across the StarNet. However, Lin Jingsi had never participated in matching. Aside from eating, sleeping, and training, he devoted himself entirely to his mecha, as though he intended to spend the rest of his life with it.
Until the war broke out… Then “Cocoon” revealed his perfect compatibility with Yu Kexing.
Lu Chi pondered.
[According to the setting, compatibility is determined by biological structure. Even if two people hate each other, they can’t escape the instinctive attraction between an Alpha and an Omega… Should I learn from the Second Male Lead and poison them both into… erectile dysfunction?]
[Absolutely not, Baby!] The system instinctively recoiled in horror. [Impotent losers don’t deserve to be with you! What romance? Are they even worthy?!]
[…]
Lu Chi remembered that the system had never been neutered because of its illness. It was obedient, never wandered off, never made a fuss, and remained blissfully simple-minded.
Who would’ve thought…
Such a feral soul was hiding beneath that vacant exterior?!
Unable to help himself, Lu Chi laughed. Deciding to drop the sensitive topic for now, he casually chose a seat near the back of the classroom.
It was still early, and only a handful of students had arrived. Sunlight streamed through the windows, filling the room with the warm, sweet aroma of baking ingredients. Immersed in the cozy atmosphere, Lu Chi opened his terminal and tried once more to message the Main Shou.
“Are you reborn?”… Failed to send.
“R u reborn?” (written in internet slang)… Failed to send.
“Are you reborn?” (written in English)… Failed to send.
“生まれ変わりましたか?” (written in Japanese)… Failed to send.
…Well then.
This world’s filter even blocked Klingon script. (The Klingon scripts are fictional alphabetic scripts used in the Star Trek movies and television shows to write the Klingon language.)
How shameless.
Giving up on contacting Yu Kexing online, Lu Chi closed the terminal and casually picked up a strawberry from the table. He had barely taken his first bite when the classroom AI’s gentle voice sounded beside his ear.
[S-rank strawberry consumed. Automatic deduction: 400.00 credits.]
“…”
Four hundred…
For one strawberry?!
Lu Chi immediately opened the academy website and read through the explanation. After a while, he finally spotted the tiny but brutally straightforward notice:
“Second-class citizens and above may use all campus equipment free of charge.
Third-class citizens receive a 20% discount.
Fourth-class citizens pay full price.
Alphas and Omegas receive three days of complimentary access.
Betas receive no complimentary access.
Thank you for your understanding✌️!”
“…”
He’d almost forgotten he was currently a fourth-class Beta citizen… The very bottom of the social ladder. Rubbing his face, Lu Chi accepted reality with admirable composure and finished eating the strawberry that had effectively cost him over seven hundred credits more than the market price.
Class soon began.
The dessert instructor entered with a gentle smile and activated the classroom AI, which immediately helped every student tie on an apron.
Lessons at the academy were highly private. Except for practical combat classes, instructors rarely interfered directly, leaving the AI to assist students throughout the learning process. Wrapped in the classroom’s peaceful sweetness, Lu Chi finished piping his frosting, took out his terminal, snapped a picture of his work, and sent it to Lin Jingsi to show off.
A reply came almost immediately, but Lu Chi didn’t look at it. Instead, he opened his own contact profile. Deleting the status that read:
[Not accepting appointments for now.]
He replaced it with a single cheerful line:
[Babies, Master LuLu is officially open for business! ^^]
The moment he finished editing it, not even three seconds later, his message list exploded as though infected by a virus, countless unread notifications flooding the screen.
Lu Chi let out a long sigh.
Feeling melancholy, he quietly stole three blueberries, but the AI immediately detected them. Another three hundred credits deducted.
“…”
Making money…
Had become an urgent priority.
…………………..
Even after the Federation Academy combat tournament ended, discussion across the StarNet only intensified. The conversation revolved around two people: Lin Jingsi and Lu Chi.
Discussions about the former focused almost entirely on his combat ability. Experts debated whether Lin Jingsi would evolve into an SS Alpha, whether the military Legion would rise again because of him, how the Federation’s balance of power might shift, and whether people should start aligning themselves with the Legion immediately.
His performance had simply been too overwhelming, and he was still so young. Watching him gave people the unsettling feeling that if they failed to board his ship now, the tide of history would simply wash them away.
As for Lu Chi…
The internet took a very different direction. At first, everyone argued over whether he’d cheated. But after “Cocoon” released the complete battle footage, which proved to be entirely authentic, the debate shifted to his tactics, his mental power level, and his mecha.
Then, someone noticed something strange. The original battle recording had been edited. Specifically… The opening and ending scenes had disappeared. The clips of the Beta flashing a peace sign at the camera, the cat-ear gesture, even the line about the “little cat perking up its ears” had vanished.
Netizens were bewildered, confused, and completely unable to understand. Sure, Lu Chi’s unexpectedly cute personality had surprised everyone… But did the academy really need to delete those scenes?!
Even stranger, every screenshot of Lu Chi making cat ears had vanished from the entire internet. Only the Federation’s three supreme powers could pull off something like that, and nothing similar had happened on StarNet in decades.
The more people thought about it, the more curious they became.
Who exactly was Lu Chi?
Rumor had it that immediately after the tournament ended, the academy sealed his entire student file. Anyone below S-rank Alpha or Omega clearance could no longer access it. But going that far…
Could Lu Chi actually be the illegitimate child of one of the Federation’s three great powers?
Otherwise, why would someone go to such lengths to erase his face and even his voice from public circulation?
As for that title of being the dream lover coveted by all three factions? Haha. Come on, it was just a Beta. Sure, his physique and figure were exceptional, but his full face had never been shown. There was no way he was gorgeous enough to trigger that kind of absurd, Mary Sue scenario…
But compared to the relatively restrained discussions and speculation on StarNet… The Federal Academy’s holographic forum was far more vicious.
Virtual avatars drifted through the shared consciousness space. A moment later, a new thread shot to the top, glowing with the crimson light of a premium promotion:
[Huge Bounty: Anyone who uncovers Lu Chi’s face and biological profile will receive an entire S-Class floating island from me!]
The poster had paid for the highest-tier site-wide promotion, plastering the thread across every corner of the forum. Passing avatars quickly stopped to click in and comment.
1L: Too late. He’s already become the beacon of hope for the poor and the Beta community’s lifeline! Who’d dare investigate him now? Hehe~
2L: Reading all that praise on StarNet makes me sick. If he’s so amazing, why is he still a Fourth-Class citizen? If he’s so amazing, why didn’t he even dare show up for the finals?
3L: Hero of the poor? Since when do poor people get the entire internet censoring things for them? Fun fact: the Alpha he defeated on match day has disappeared. The family never even reported it. That’s the heir of a second-tier conglomerate. No body, no trace.
4L: The person above left something out. Lu Chi was bullied when he first enrolled. Now every single one of the people who bullied him died in “accidents” overnight. Suddenly he’s acting this arrogant? Draw your own conclusions.
5L: So hard to guess~ Could he have sold himself to some big shot?
6L: Then that big shot must have terrible taste.
7L: The people on StarNet call us “Celestials” every day, but now they’re pretending not to notice the whole internet being censored while stepping on AOs to praise a Beta. I’m dying of laughter. They’re stupid and pathetic.
8L: Does anyone actually know how Lu Chi won that match? I’m betting genetic modification plus illegal performance-enhancing drugs. He definitely cheated.
…
7448L: Holy shit! Lu Chi changed his profile status! Go look!
7449L: Seriously? Is he really that desperate for money???
The thread stayed pinned to the holographic forum for an entire day.
Since the poster had purchased the highest-level promotion, Lu Chi’s name remained plastered across the front page all day as well. By the time it finally slowed down, the thread had accumulated more than seven thousand floors of insults directed at him.
The holographic forum was effectively controlled by high-status Alphas and Omegas. Which meant nearly everyone insulting Lu Chi belonged to the academy’s privileged elite.
They considered themselves superior by birth, and their secondary genders and social ranks placed them above ordinary people. For them, the rise of a Beta like Lu Chi was offensive enough. Not to mention the countless posts on StarNet comparing him favorably against them.
Since that tournament, Lu Chi’s name had spread across the galaxy.
As someone who had transmigrated into the novel, he still couldn’t fully grasp what that victory truly represented. For hundreds of years, however, the Federation’s citizens had lived under a distorted social order. Belief in spiritual rank had been carved into their bones. Only a tiny minority at the top of the pyramid controlled society’s resources. Most people…
Were simply exhausted. Numb.
And among ordinary people, the silent Betas made up the overwhelming majority. From childhood, they’d been taught they were born inferior. In this relentlessly efficient society, they learned to become silent screws in an enormous machine.
But when they were tired, they couldn’t rest, and when they broke, they were discarded.
By this point in the Federation’s history, waves of suicides had already become commonplace. In the original story, the war erupted with astonishing speed not only because it caught everyone off guard, but because ordinary people had long since learned obedience.
They had lived in darkness for too long. Whether the whip hanging over their heads was soft or hard… Cold or hot…
They no longer cared.
But Lu Chi’s appearance and his victory were like a bolt of lightning splitting apart that endless darkness. Human beings were fragile, yet they were also resilient. People trapped in suffering didn’t always need someone standing close beside them, and sometimes, a distant, indistinct figure was enough. Enough to swallow their despair, enough to continue living in silence.
A B-rank Beta had defeated an A-rank Alpha.
Wasn’t Lu Chi creating a fairy tale that belonged to ordinary people?
Those who believed in him quietly watched the comments flooding StarNet. Whether out of self-preservation or a desire to protect him, they began awkwardly and clumsily posting messages in his defense.
Lu Chi had earned his victory through sweat and effort, through blood and perseverance. And so those silent, insignificant people found someone who resonated with them. Without saying a word, they stood up and quietly gathered behind him.
………………………..
The day passed in the blink of an eye.
After finishing his leisurely elective classes, Lu Chi had accepted commissions until his hands were nearly full when he suddenly received a screenshot of the forum from the Main Shou, along with a message asking if he needed help.
He opened it, but his expression barely changed. Nor did he reply. As always, he simply left the message on read. After all, Lu Chi had entered the entertainment industry the moment he came of age, so he’d been cursed at more times than he could count. Even the most fragile, sensitive heart, once forced open again and again, eventually learned how to become hard.
The system, on the other hand, was so furious it practically burst into ghostly flames. Crying while leaking all over its spiritual domain, it screamed every curse it could think of.
[We’re done seducing people! Let’s leave right now and let those bastards get blown apart until their brains splatter everywhere!]
[They can all die!]
Lu Chi was walking toward the hover station, carrying the flower arrangement he’d made in class. Beneath the brim of his baseball cap, he smiled and soothed it.
[Remember all their contact information. Save every comment they made. Another day I’ll…] He paused.
Looking toward the young man standing around the corner, Lu Chi smiled.
[Actually… there’s no need to wait.]
With Lin Jingsi around, those people might not even survive the night. The system spotted him too, and for the first time, it was genuinely delighted.
[That’s right! Protagonist Gong, this time I’m on your side! Don’t let a single one of those bastards go!]
Perhaps because he wanted to match Lu Chi’s low-profile approach, Lin Jingsi was dressed entirely in black today, wearing the same black baseball cap as Lu Chi. Standing beside the hovercar, he looked like nothing more than an inconspicuous shadow. Though on second glance…
He looked rather like a parent picking up their child after school.
Evening had already fallen. The neon lights of the capital planet lit up one by one, painting the sky in shades of blue and violet. The black hovercar’s door stood half open, and pedestrians hurried past without sparing a glance for the two figures waiting quietly at the corner.
Holding a bouquet of cool-toned flowers, Lu Chi lowered his head and slipped into the car. As he removed his cap, his silver hair spilled loose around his shoulders, and a sweet strawberry scent drifted to his nose.
The bouquet was gently lifted from his arms.
Before Lu Chi could speak, Lin Jingsi wrapped his arms around him from behind. The familiar scent instantly settled around him as warm lips brushed his earlobe. The Alpha had probably just finished training. Fresh from a shower, he still carried the cool dampness of lingering moisture.
He kissed Lu Chi while slowly rubbing his waist with one hand, and the two of them tumbled together onto the seat, tangled in each other. After a long while, Lin Jingsi asked quietly, “How were your classes today?”
The question sounded exactly like a parent checking on a child after school. Held securely in his embrace, Lu Chi laughed, for he could actually hear a trace of careful hesitation in the man’s voice.
Raising an eyebrow, he looped an arm around Lin Jingsi’s neck before glancing at the unopened fresh strawberry cake beside them.
“Don’t you already know?”
That morning, after being charged for the fruit, Lu Chi had immediately complained to Lin Jingsi, and Lin Jingsi had promptly sent over his account credentials and told Lu Chi to bind his account for purchases.
Lu Chi had refused for the moment, insisting he wanted to make a quick fortune first as Master LuLu.
So in just a single day, using nothing but fortune-telling nonsense, Lu Chi had fleeced those privileged Alphas and Omegas out of well over a million credits. He’d intentionally named outrageous prices, but what he hadn’t expected was that the same Alphas and Omegas who mocked and insulted him would be even more irrational.
They genuinely believed those “mystical teachings” were the secret behind his victory. Each person bid higher than the last, even turning the sales into auctions that conveniently bypassed the Federation’s financial restrictions. But they failed to realise that auction proceeds could legally be transferred into the account of a Fourth-Class citizen, so sometimes…
Social class clearly wasn’t any guarantee of intelligence.
Lin Jingsi captured Lu Chi’s soft lips in another kiss. His tongue slipped past Lu Chi’s lips and lingered there for a while before he finally spoke in a hoarse voice.
“I’m sorry.”
“I paid too much attention to StarNet… and overlooked the rumors inside the academy.”
“I’ll take care of the forum.”
So… He had known all along.
Lu Chi chuckled and nodded, for he truly didn’t care all that much. Licking his lips, he leaned in to continue kissinghim. Sensing the carelessness in his embrace, Lin Jingsi paused, breaking the string of soft kisses.
“Doesn’t it hurt?”
Lu Chi raised a brow, genuinely surprised.
“Hurt? Over something people like that say?”
Wouldn’t that just be stupid?
Lu Chi had never been a stupid person, but Lin Jingsi didn’t answer. He simply looked at him with those deep eyes of his, and for the first time didn’t respond by praising him.
Meeting his gaze, Lu Chi gradually began to feel uncomfortable under the prolonged silence. Tilting his head, he asked, “Lin Jingsi, what are you looking at?”
Under the lights, pure confusion surfaced across the Beta’s face. He genuinely didn’t understand why Lin Jingsi had fallen silent. But his features were beautiful. His long bangs had fallen aside, revealing the clean, sharp lines of his face. His silver hair wasn’t particularly unusual either; among every ten students at the academy, at least five wore long coloured hair.
Precisely because of that, no one had been able to pinpoint Lu Chi among the academy’s million students.
And Lin Jingsi had already placed two trackers on him. With Lu Chi’s permission, he’d also replaced his terminal with a version that reported his physical condition in real time, allowing him to check on him whenever he wanted… and still, his dark green eyes remained fixed on Lu Chi.
“Lu Chi,” he said quietly, “you’re nineteen this year.”
“So?” Lu Chi blinked.
The Alpha was silent for a moment before lightly cupping his cheek.
“You’re nineteen. Not twenty-nine. Not thirty-nine. Lu Chi… you’re allowed to be hurt.”
What should nineteen look like?
Lin Jingsi didn’t know. He only knew what his nineteen had looked like.
He had just gone through his first heat after coming of age, every ounce of hostility in him bristling like the spines of a wild beast. He had only recently entered the Federal Academy. Because the Legion had fallen into decline, he’d endured countless open and subtle insults.
That was simply what interstellar society was like. Disgustingly snobbish, yet everyone accepted it as normal. After all, they were nothing more than beasts driven mad by the scent of pheromones. However uncivilized they became, it somehow still seemed perfectly reasonable.
And nineteen-year-old Lin Jingsi had been the most reckless beast of them all.
He dragged every Alpha and Omega who mocked him out into the open and beat them until they were covered in blood. From then on, hearing his name alone was enough to make them drop to their knees and beg for mercy.
But he knew that words were invisible blades, killing without spilling blood. Even now, even someone as indifferent as Lin Jingsi could still be provoked by certain words.
Yet nineteen-year-old Lu Chi sat in his arms, asking with absent-minded confusion, “Why should I be hurt?”
A strange ache tightened around Lin Jingsi’s heart, and his brows unconsciously furrowed as he gently stroked Lu Chi’s beautiful face.
“Lu Chi… you should be.”
When someone is hurt, they can react with anger. With indifference, with contempt, but it shouldn’t be this effortless smile. Because no one is born immune to negative emotions. Such effortless composure could only mean that, time and time again, Lu Chi had quietly swallowed countless disappointments by himself… and digested them alone.
Only after being cursed enough times…
…would it truly stop hurting.
Lu Chi held his gaze. A moment later, he suddenly understood what Lin Jingsi meant, and he froze. Then, for perhaps the first time in a very long while, his words caught for half a second.
“I… Lin Jingsi… you’re overthinking it.”
He wasn’t that fragile, yet, for some inexplicable reason, a memory surfaced. A little child squatting by the roadside, crying so hard he could barely breathe, crying while eating an ice cream cone. Huge tears rolled down his cheeks as he clung desperately to the director of the orphanage, refusing to let go.
So… there really had been a time like that.
When being abandoned was frightening.
When being disliked made him want to cry.
But later, he slowly grew up and realized crying was the most useless thing in the world. A person’s fate could only be seized by their own hands, so Lu Chi learned to discard everything fragile. He charged headfirst into hardship, letting every storm fate hurled at him wash away the wounds left behind by cruel words.
Only the strongest grass survives the fiercest wind, and he wanted to become the very best.
The strongest.
Looking at Lin Jingsi for a long moment, Lu Chi finally let out a soft breath and smiled.
“Lin Jingsi…”
“It’s really not worth feeling hurt over people like them.”
Once… When everything about his past had been dug up, when photos of him as a child with his adoptive family spread all over the internet, capturing that awkward, uneasy expression on his face… Lu Chi had remained silent for a very long time. In the end, all he could say to himself was:
Don’t waste your emotions on things that have already happened. It’s not worth it.
At that moment, Lin Jingsi suddenly cupped his face with both hands and lowered his forehead until they were nearly touching. Their noses brushed together, and the familiar scent surrounding the Alpha enveloped him. Held beneath that unwavering gaze, Lu Chi could clearly see the confusion… and the heartache… reflected in those green eyes.
Lin Jingsi was hurting…
…for him.
Even though he knew absolutely nothing about the real, twenty-seven-year-old Lu Chi. Then Lu Chi heard him say, “Xiao Chi, you still have me.”
“Whatever you’re feeling…”
“You have me.”
At nineteen. Twenty-nine. Thirty-nine…
Even ninety-nine.
Lin Jingsi would always be there to catch him.
He always would.
Neon lights reflected against the windows, flickering quietly. Looking into those dark green eyes, Lu Chi lowered his head after a long while and rested it against Lin Jingsi’s shoulder. His snowy profile dipped slightly as he closed his eyes, revealing a rare trace of vulnerability.
What was love?
It was when someone had already walked a long road alone. When they had swallowed every hardship fate had thrown at them, when they’d wrapped their heart in composure and strength, prepared to keep walking like that forever…
…and then someone appeared without warning.
Patiently, persistently, tapping tiny cracks into that carefully guarded heart. Then staying by their side all the while, silently and steadfastly waiting for them to turn back.
The Alpha tightened his embrace, and his broad chest held Lu Chi firmly against him, warm and unyielding. Eyes still closed, surrounded by the faint scent of strawberries, Lu Chi slowly wrapped his arms around him in return.
Very softly, he said, “Mm, I still have you.”
“And when I’m ninety-nine…”
“You’ll still be there too, right?”
The Alpha smiled. This time, it was his turn to sigh softly before answering in a low voice, “Right.”
“Xiao Chi…”
“I’ll always love you.”
………………
When they got home that night, they unusually did nothing at all. They simply held each other tightly and slept. The next morning, Lu Chi even felt as though his waist had been squeezed swollen from being hugged all night. Fortunately, a few sprays of medicinal mist restored everything to normal.
As always, he and Lin Jingsi separated before leaving the apartment.
After the practical combat tournament, just as in the original novel, Lin Jingsi had all but stopped appearing on campus. He was busy at the Legion, assembling his new unit.
Lu Chi, meanwhile, was still a first-year student and dutifully attended classes every day. The academy’s air remained warm and pleasantly humid, and he still wore his baseball cap, coming and going through campus as usual.
In the blink of an eye, it was Friday.
The Main Shou had been left unread in his terminal for quite some time now. The messages and calls had become increasingly frequent, his tone beginning to crack enough that it no longer matched his usual persona.
After thinking it over, Lu Chi finally replied.
B-1121: [I’m in the southern N36 District, Classroom 8, Dessert Elective.]
There was no reply, yet less than twenty minutes later, the black-haired, black-eyed Omega hurried into the classroom.The moment he spotted Lu Chi, he strode straight over, breathing lightly from the rush.
His face wasn’t unfamiliar within the Federation, and the few students still inside subtly began casting glances in theirdirection. Yu Kexing frowned and glanced back toward the attendants standing outside the door, and three minutes later, the entire classroom had been cleared.
Lu Chi hadn’t spoken once.
He calmly picked up his fork, slowly ate another strawberry, and watched with complete composure as the Main Shou indulged his domineering-CEO tendencies. After a while, Yu Kexing turned back around, his elegant, composed smile already restored.
“My apologies. I acted without asking.” Dressed in a custom gray-blue academy uniform, the Omega smiled gently. “There were a lot of people here just now. Considering how famous you’ve become… it wouldn’t have been very convenient for you to be recognized.”
Lu Chi politely let him finish, then he set down his fork and got straight to the point.
“Yu Kexing, are you reborn…”
“…or can you see the future?”
But the instant the words fell…
Bzzz.
Bzzz.
Everything before his eyes suddenly went black.
It felt as though some immense force had forcibly dragged him into an endless field of vision as utter silence swallowed the world. Lu Chi remained standing where he was. Without changing expression, he reached out to feel his surroundings, but his fingertips touched only something cold and artificial, like metal.
But what kind of machine could drag someone directly into a mental space without its owner’s permission?
A thought flashed through Lu Chi’s mind like lightning. At the same time, the darkness around him was no longer silent, for a voice echoed through it. This time, it was perfectly clear.
And very familiar.
Letting out a slow breath, Lu Chi heard exactly the voice he had expected.
The warm, gentle voice of “Cocoon” asked:
[Lu Chi… what are you trying to do?]
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