21: Chapter 21 The Crack Between Reality and Virtuality

The deafening, heavy bass drum beat hammered against his eardrums, making his chest cavity tremble. The blurry neon lights cut out bizarre, psychedelic color blocks in the dance floor—red, blue, purple—mixing with the swaying skirts of the dancers and the unrestrained laughter of young men and women, weaving an airtight web called "indulgence."

Lin Fan leaned against a high chair at the bar, holding a glass of amber whiskey between his fingertips. The ice cubes clinked crisply against the glass, and the liquor slid down his throat, carrying a burning heat. A young man with pink hair, hooked to two hot girls, leaned in with his glass and shouted, "Brother Lin, feeling good? This place is intense, right!"

The hot girls' fingertips brushed against Lin Fan's arm intentionally or unintentionally, carrying a cloying perfume scent; the touch felt impossibly real. Lin Fan curled his lips, trying to squeeze out a smile that matched the surrounding atmosphere, but before the smile could reach his eyes, the glass in his fingertips suddenly paused.

The world before his eyes began to flicker without warning.

It was like a screen glitch when an old television signal was unstable. The screeching sound of current drilled sharply into his ears, and the deafening music suddenly distorted, twisted, and turned into a burst of chaotic noise. The figures twisting on the dance floor instantly blurred into color blocks, and in the next second, the scene switched abruptly—

It was not a flashy nightclub, but a stark white ceiling. The smell of disinfectant seemed to pierce through the virtual barrier, drilling straight into his nasal cavity, choking him so that he subconsciously frowned. Within his line of sight, a familiar face was close at hand; Kate was frowning tightly, her eyes full of anxiety. Those eyes, usually calm and sharp, were now filled with undisguised worry, and even her long eyelashes were trembling slightly.

"Lin Fan..."

The faint call seemed to come from the distant horizon, and yet also like a whisper right next to his ear, carrying a trace of sobbing, terrifyingly clear.

Lin Fan's heart constricted violently, as if gripped by an invisible hand, making him unable to breathe from the pain. His fingers began to tremble uncontrollably, and most of the whiskey in the glass spilled out, splashing onto his expensive shirt and leaving dark stains. The cold liquid slid down his skin and into his clothes, making him shiver.

Before he could think about what this sudden vision was about, a cold, mechanical sound from the system rang in his mind. The voice was no longer the smooth and steady one from the past, but wrapped in dense static noise, sharply piercing:

[Warning! Warning! External connection unstable! Data transmission fluctuation! Virtual world anchor point loosening!]

This voice was like a basin of ice water, extinguishing all of Lin Fan's interest. The alcohol that had been boiling in his blood just a moment ago instantly turned into lead, weighing heavily in his stomach, making his chest feel stifled. The music on the dance floor was still playing, and the laughter around him continued, but Lin Fan felt as if he had been isolated in a transparent glass jar; all the clamor turned into blurry background noise, untouchable.

Who was he?

This thought popped out without warning, winding around his heart like a vine, tightening more and more.

Was he Lin Fan, the player who relied on the system to call the wind and summon the rain, throw money around, and live a carefree life in this virtual world? Or was he that vegetative patient lying on a hospital bed, covered in tubes, unable to even open his eyes?

The neon lights of the nightclub made his eyes ache, and the flashing spots of light swayed into a blurry halo in his vision. The revelry that he had just found enjoyable now carried a suffocating absurdity and falseness. He raised his hand to touch his face; the skin sensation from his fingertips felt terrifyingly real, warm, delicate, and slightly hot from the alcohol. But the fleeting hospital scene from just a moment ago was like a needle, fiercely piercing the stable facade he had been forcibly building these days.

"Who exactly am I..."

Lin Fan murmured in a low voice, his voice hoarse, carrying a trace of panic he hadn't even realized himself, barely audible even to him. His gaze swept blankly over the reveling crowd on the dance floor; those twisting figures, those unrestrained smiling faces, suddenly became detestable in his eyes—these were all fake, all phantoms programmed by code!

Meanwhile, in the laboratory of the real world, stark white light shrouded every corner. Kate was staring fixedly at the Brain-Computer Interface screen in front of her. The data stream on the screen was jumping frantically, and red warning characters were densely covering the interface, like a web waiting to devour someone. The originally stable brainwave curve was now like a sea surface swept by a hurricane, undulating violently, with a frightening gap between the peaks and troughs that made one's heart stop.

Her fingers gripped the joystick tightly, her knuckles turning white from the force, and even her arms were uncontrollably trembling slightly. Cold sweat on her fingertips dampened the cold metal surface. In the laboratory, there was only the buzzing sound of the equipment running, monotonous and dull, making the air feel exceptionally oppressive.

"Lin Fan, can you hear me?"

Kate gritted her teeth, her voice carrying a trace of hard-to-detect sobbing. She leaned forward slightly, getting closer to the screen, as if this would bring her closer to the soul trapped in the virtual world. She was originally only responsible for monitoring Lin Fan's brainwave data to ensure the stable operation of the virtual world; this was her job, nothing more. She received high compensation and only needed to complete the task routinely, without needing to invest any extra emotions.

But looking at that figure forcing a smile in the nightclub on the screen, looking at his suddenly pale face after the screen flickered, looking at the fleeting confusion and panic in his eyes, her heart felt like it was being fiercely tugged by something, aching terribly.

This task had long exceeded the scope of work. This man lying on the hospital bed without vitality, this soul trying hard to live and indulge in the virtual world—she didn't know when, but he had already occupied a place in her heart. She would secretly be happy because he earned his first pot of gold in the virtual world, would be worried because he encountered danger, and would be at a loss because of his collapse at this moment.

Kate took a deep breath, her fingertips tapping rapidly on the operation panel, and the keyboard clicked and clacked under her fingers. She had to wake him up; she had to let him return to the real world. This thought echoed in her mind with extreme clarity at this moment, carrying a kind of almost paranoid firmness.

Meanwhile, in the nightclub of the virtual world.

Lin Fan was still immersed in chaotic thoughts, the cold system prompt sound still circling in his mind, lingering like a curse. He raised his hand to rub his swollen temples, his fingertips pressing against the throbbing veins, trying to alleviate the piercing pain. He was just about to ask the bartender to pour another drink to numb his surging emotions with alcohol, when he felt a gaze fall on him. The gaze was too sharp, too focused, as if carrying some kind of penetrating power, making him feel uncomfortable all over.

He turned his head abruptly and locked eyes with the bartender.

This bartender had always been no different from other NPCs, mixing drinks expressionlessly, responding mechanically to customer requests, like a programmed robot, even his eyes were hollow. But at this moment, his eyes were exceptionally clear, even carrying a trace of eerie insight, as if he could see through the deepest secrets in a person's heart.

The bartender did not ask him what he wanted to drink as usual, but leaned forward slightly, approached Lin Fan, and said in a low voice that only the two of them could hear:

"You know this place is fake, right?"

This sentence was like a thunderclap, exploding in Lin Fan's mind.

He widened his eyes, his pupils contracting violently, his blood instantly congealing, and he even forgot to breathe. He looked at the bartender's eyes; there was no confusion in those eyes, only a kind of almost compassionate sobriety, as if looking at a poor wretch trapped in a cage. Lin Fan's heart beat wildly, beating fast enough to break through his chest. He opened his mouth, wanting to ask something, wanting to roar something, but found his throat seemed to be blocked, unable to make any sound, only able to emit a dry, breathy noise.

But in the next second, the bartender's eyes suddenly became hollow.

It was like someone had pressed the reset button, so fast that it caught him off guard. His originally clear gaze quickly dissipated, like dusty glass; the compassion and insight in those eyes disappeared without a trace, leaving only a deathly, still-water-like calmness. He straightened up, expressionlessly picked up a rag, and began to mechanically wipe the bar, his movements stiff and repetitive; the words just now seemed to have never been spoken.

"You... what did you just say?" Lin Fan reached out, wanting to grab the bartender's arm, but his fingertips only touched a piece of cold air. The bartender seemed not to feel his movement, still looking down and wiping the bar, his eyes terrifyingly hollow.

Lin Fan's fingertips froze in mid-air, and a chill surged up from the soles of his feet, climbing all the way to his scalp along his spine, making his hair stand on end.

Did the NPC awaken?

As soon as this thought popped up, it scared Lin Fan into trembling all over, his teeth chattering. Everything in this virtual world was a pre-set program; NPCs had no self-awareness. They were code, data, tools for players to pass the time. But the bartender's eyes just now, that whisper, were terrifyingly real, like a knife quenched in ice, fiercely stabbed into his heart.

If even an NPC could realize that this world was fake, then what about him? What was he? A prisoner trapped in a virtual world? A puppet being manipulated by others?

The surrounding clamor continued, the figures on the dance floor were still twisting, the pink-haired youth was still shouting to drink, and the hot girl's laughter was crisp and pleasant. But Lin Fan only felt a deep-seated fear, like a tide, drowning him, cold and bone-piercing. This world, which he thought he could do whatever he wanted in and escape reality, suddenly became incredibly strange and terrifying.

He was like a prisoner trapped in a glass jar, no matter how he struggled, he couldn't escape.

"Fake... it's all fake..."

Lin Fan roared in a low voice, the string of his sanity completely snapped. He grabbed the glass on the bar and smashed it hard on the ground!

"Bang!"

Glass shards flew everywhere, and sharp fragments bounced onto his ankle, cutting a small bleeding gash. The warm blood seeped out, and the stinging pain was incomparably clear. The amber liquor spilled all over the floor, emitting a strong smell of alcohol, nauseatingly pungent. The harsh sound of shattering was particularly abrupt in the noisy nightclub, as if tearing a bloody hole in a piece of fake prosperity.

But the people around seemed not to hear it, still immersed in the revelry. The dancer's skirt was still swaying, the youth's laughter was still in his ears, and not a single person looked at him, not a single person paid attention to his collapse. Their faces wore stylized smiles, their movements stiff and repetitive, like a group of soulless marionettes.

They were NPCs, pre-set programs; in their world, he did not exist.

Looking at the scene before him, Lin Fan only felt a huge sense of loneliness, overwhelming him and making him unable to breathe. He stood in front of the messy bar, trembling all over, looking at the indifferent figures around him, looking at those fake smiling faces, and finally couldn't help it, using all his strength, roaring towards this absurd void:

"What the hell is this place!"

The roar was hoarse and desperate. In the noisy music, it seemed so insignificant, like a stone thrown into the sea, not even splashing a wave, and was quickly drowned out.

Only Lin Fan himself knew that his world had already cracked a gap that could not be repaired. The boundary between reality and virtuality, at this moment, was completely blurred.