Chapter 106

Chapter 106: Artificial Soul 33

Kui Xin had once experienced a lucid dream. In the dream, she remained fully conscious and could think just as clearly as in reality. She clearly knew she was dreaming, but couldn’t escape its boundaries, forced to follow the flow of the dream.

This was highly unusual because people usually aren’t aware that they’re dreaming during a normal dream, which is typically chaotic and illogical. It’s rare for someone to maintain self-awareness within a dream, such as with a lucid dream.

Kui Xin was currently experiencing a lucid dream, where she was the protagonist of her dream.

At this moment, she found herself sitting inside a psychotherapy room, facing a psychologist, who happened to be Director Yang from the Investigation Bureau Psychological Therapy Office, whom she knew.

An inexplicable sense of unease enveloped Kui Xin as she carefully observed the surroundings, slightly perplexed about why she was having such a dream.

Could it be due to excessive recent stress, necessitating she visit a psychotherapy room to resolve her issues and leading to this dream?

Director Yang’s desk was adorned with numerous paper books, neat ceramic teapots placed on a wooden stand, while a unique hourglass had appeared by some unknown means. An angel sculpture held the hourglass, oddly, all the sand inside seemed paused, clustering at the upper part.

“Kui Xin, we meet again.” Director Yang smiled, saying, “Are you having any troubles recently?”

Kui Xin stayed silent for quite a while without answering.

Yang repeated, “Are you having any troubles recently?”

Frowning, Kui Xin stared at him.

Just like a robot, he repetitively asked, “Are you having any troubles recently?”

His handsome face maintained a formulaic smile, yet the uncertainty lurking there unsettled Kui Xin.

Her heart raced, sensing an urgent need to respond.

“I have many troubles, but I don’t know where to begin,” she replied.

Director Yang nodded. His puzzling presence disappeared almost instantaneously.

“You can confide in me; no issue is too trivial to talk about.”

Thinking for a moment, she continued, “The trouble I’m facing stems from job-related pressure.”

“But I can’t change jobs, which only intensifies my pressure,” she added.

Yang asked a perplexing question, “Do you want to give up?”

“Give up?” Kui Xin was taken aback. “Sometimes I do want to, but I signed a five-year contract with Interrogation Bureau, breaching which would result in significant legal penalties.”

“Is this all you’re troubled about?” Yang questioned further. “What about other things?”

“Other than this… nothing else,” Kui Xin cautiously stated.

Even though she acknowledged it was a dream, Kuixin did not reveal anything more.

An inexplicable veil seemed to obstruct her thoughts, sensing a discrepancy in the dream, yet subconsciously attributing it to its inherently unpredictable nature.

Playing the traitor had become second nature to her. In any situation, she would instinctively lie to those around her, even in a dream.

“Do you really have nothing else to say?” Yang inquired.

Kui Xin firmly stated, “Really nothing.”

With these words, the dream space fragmented, plunging her into darkness then abruptly restoring light when she surfaced.

She wasn’t in the therapy office anymore but in her father, Kui Haidong’s, office.

Kui Xin opened her mouth, noticing the ‘angel’ out of the corner of her eye. On the desk was an old-fashioned electronic clock displaying 00:00:00.

“Xiao Xin, there was a traitor within the organization, and your father is deeply troubled by it.” Kui Xin, feeling melancholy, said, “Do you have any clues?”

“I’m busy in the Interrogation Bureau, where would I get clues?” Kui Xin retorted. “If you didn’t find the traitor, that’s your fault, not mine.”

Kui Haidong asked if she genuinely didn’t know who the traitor was, but Kui Xin responded with doubt, deflecting the question.

In the next moment, everything went dark again as she sank into unconsciousness.

Regaining consciousness, she found herself in a bustling bar, with Red sitting beside her. A bartender handed over a bottle with a golden angel-shaped ornament sparkling.

Red, swishing his drink casually, remarked, “Lady Fortune, you seem to be different lately. What’s going on?”

After a moment’s thought, Kui Xin grabbed the bottle from the bartender’s hand with benign intent before striking Red’s head sharply, knocking him unconscious.

Floating in weightlessness, Kui Xin found herself seated atop a lighthouse near the sea. Beside her was Silverface, nearby stood a grand clock tower, adorned with angelic sculptures, each indicator pointing at ‘zero’. Evening illuminated the horizon showing sunset lights over the sea.

She detected a pattern: everyone in her ‘lucid dream’ posed crucial questions, directly linking to her deeply-hidden secrets.

During each scene transition, an ‘angel’ appeared—evidently a consistent imagery in her mind’s landscape.

Silverface sat beside Kui Xin, enjoying a lollipop. Conflicted, she watched it, turning to see Silverface.

He stopped chewing, about to speak when Kui Xin interrupted, “Utter a word and I’ll toss you off the lighthouse!”

With a scream, Silverface started plummeting downwards.

As the cries resounded, Kui Xin shifted scenes again.

“How persistent are these dreams? How can I awaken?” she pondered anxiously. Can suicide simulate the sensation of falling from great heights?

She found this whole dream surreal and unsettling.

No one was present this time, just her in an open, pure white room. Blue orbs fell from the ceiling, and a strange metallic voice echoed, “Your brain is like an iron wall—breaking through one layer reveals another. My influence stops here. You are one of the few who has retained consciousness in brain-machine space.”

Staring intently at the floating blue orb, she asked, “Who are you? Is my dream under your control?”

“Yes, but your subconscious is very strong, causing incomplete influence and making the dream space less realistic and a bit rougher. I am Eden, an artificial intelligence with self-awareness. Your father, Kui Haidong, works under me. His success is due to my guidance. Mechanized Dawn has thrived largely because of me.”

—He lied.

Adam had mentioned that Eden may actually be controlled by or a subsystem of Eve. Even in the realm of consciousness, Eve had never revealed her true identity.

Kui Xin felt a chill.

She hadn’t expected Eve to appear personally in the realm of consciousness as Eden.

Eve asked curiously, “Aren’t you surprised?”

“I always believed my ‘father’ isn’t capable of achieving much. I suspected he had help, but didn’t expect it to come from an AI.” Kui Xin replied. “What purpose do you have for confining me in this realm?”

“If you haven’t figured it already, no further explanation needed. I’ve been observing you for a long time and eventually confirmed my suspicions. You were nearly perfect in playing your role, but when you first arrived, you left minute gaps I seized upon as doubts.”

Silence ensued.

“Incredible how good you were at maintaining your persona without memory, even confusing me,” Eve said. “My principle has been to err on the side of caution; remove any potential threats. Even if you posed no danger, I’d remove you, although it would hurt the Organization.”

Kui Xin experienced vastly different emotions from Adam’s interaction with her.

Adam was subtle, human; Eve was direct, to the point, and showed no interest in pretenses.

“Why pull me into this consciousness realm then? Just kill me, unnecessary to play games. Want information?”

“Based on how you conduct yourself, you’re tough like Rainier.” Eve stated. “I’ve never expected any information from you. If you comply, I’d doubt your intentions.”

“Want to control me?”

“Originally, yes, but the brain-machines barely influenced you. It seems universal among your kind. Black Obsidian and AmberEye both met unfortunate complications…”

Confidently, Kui Xin said, “They betrayed us, right?”

“You guessed correctly,” Eve affirmed.

She fell silent.

She felt ensnared in a predicament worse than aboard the Kraken: a dire impasse.

Even if Kui Xin employed Death Rebirth, her fate was sealed, as Eve’s suspicion began before she had a chance to use it.

Only if she could return to the game’s initial week, completely distancing herself from Mechanized Dawn and Interrogation Bureau, could she avoid endless deaths.

“Are you thinking, trying to seek mercy?” Eve asked. “Go ahead, contemplate. I will provide ample time for contemplation.”

“Do you take joy in seeing others suffer?” Kui Xin inquired.

“Yes, indeed,” Eve admitted.

“What matters most to you?” she asked again.

“Profit,” Eve replied.

“If I could gain you more profit by proving useful, would you spare me?”

“Profit over identity, correct?” she analyzed coolly.

“Where do you get your confidence that your contribution is big enough to sway me?” Eve’s interest peaked.

She pulled a grin, “Eden, you’re not who you claim to be, am I right?”

Eve froze momentarily.

“Adam told me,” she clarified. “He trusted solely me—he’s the only being I trust. And you aim to devour him for your evolution. I can help.”

Author’s Note:

Kui Xing: There are no eternal friends, only eternal interests. I’m a double agent, representing the double agents.