Chapter 21

Chapter 21

In a cheap apartment on Hibiscus Avenue, late at night.

Edmund woke up from a nightmare once again.

Moonlight streamed in through the window, and he sat on his bed, staring blankly at the scene before him.

In just a few days, Edmund had become haggard. Ever since that unknown entity latched onto him, he often felt its presence.

Blood would flow from the faucet, footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, he woke up with his hands and shoes covered in blood, his arms marred with bloody marks, and the incessant whispers in his dreams were driving him insane.

Suddenly, a distorted shadow flickered across the floor, moving so fast it seemed like an illusion.

But he knew it wasn't an illusion.

Since investigating that villa, this inexplicable thing had clung to him. Edmund, just an intern investigator at the bureau, had no idea what it was. Even the common bizarre phenomena he learned about in his training had no mention of such a thing.

He thought of calling his teammates for help, but the memory of their disdainful and indifferent looks choked him, rendering him speechless.

Every time he took out his captain's number, he hesitated, unable to press the call button.

He was well aware that if he showed any mental instability during his internship, he would likely be dismissed and never return to the bureau.

If it meant returning to that filthy mire, he would rather die here.

The apartment was disrupted again, and he vaguely saw someone standing at the door. Edmund let out a terrified scream, instinctively turning on the light, but the eerie phenomenon disappeared as the light brightened.

Curses from the neighbor came through the thin walls of the apartment, which, in line with its cheap rent, had atrocious soundproofing. Edmund had already received several complaints from neighbors due to recent disturbances.

A few more incidents like this, and he would probably be thrown out.

Where would he go then?

He would probably die, either driven insane by this unknown bizarre entity or killed once it tired of toying with him.

Loneliness and despair enveloped Edmund instantaneously, taking him back to his childhood in the slums – a filthy, muddy place where hope seemed eternally out of sight.

Due to his innate 'Intuition', he was never accepted by those around him, always labeled as a 'liar', 'madman', or 'deceiver'. As an adult, this talent caught the attention of the Bureau. He had thought he finally escaped his desperate circumstances, finding peers who understood and saw the world as he did. Yet, in the end, he would die alone and insignificantly in this cheap apartment.

No one celebrated his birth, nor would anyone care about his death.

Edmund clutched his head, desperately dispelling the surge of negative emotions. His eyes, bloodshot from days of sleeping less than four hours, were a testament to his physical and mental exhaustion.

The clock in the apartment emitted a grating sound.

Snapping back to reality, Edmund saw the clock hands pointing at 12 and hurriedly lay back down, dispelling the thoughts in his mind, imagining the sensation of his body sinking into water.

Fortunately, his exhaustion brought sleepiness. In a half-awake state, Edmund successfully entered a space filled with thick fog, standing on a platform floating in the void.

[The Rift of Dreams]

That's how the people from the Bureau referred to this void space.

Only a few could enter this special space at the edge of consciousness and dreams around midnight. It was akin to climbing the heavenly ladder, the Tower of Babel, the only hope bestowed upon humanity by the gods in this world.

In this world, unexplainable bizarre phenomena and unspeakable eldritch deities exist, but it's not entirely hopeless. In the eyes of those who understand the mystical world, this [Rift of Dreams], accessible only to humans, is the path of hope for mankind.

It was also Edmund's only lifeline at the moment.

Edmund regained his senses to find himself standing on the platform, holding a kerosene lamp, with a staircase extending into the unknown beneath his feet. He hesitated for a moment but ultimately took a step forward.

As he stepped onto the stairs, the surrounding fog immediately engulfed him, only to be partially dispersed by the kerosene lamp in his hand. Still, he could hear eerie whispers close to his ear, remembering the advice of his seniors, he tried hard to ignore the sounds.

The staircase wasn't long, yet his progress was excruciatingly slow. He deliberated over each step, unaware when his forehead became soaked with cold sweat, the kerosene lamp in his hand flickering dangerously.

Under normal circumstances, he would have given up by now, but he had no way back this time.

Determined, Edmund gritted his teeth and forced himself to continue, finally reaching the first platform before the kerosene lamp extinguished.

Upon reaching the first platform, he immediately relaxed, only to find that his kerosene lamp was precariously close to going out, its light reduced from a two-meter diameter around him to just a few centimeters at his feet.

If he didn’t leave before the kerosene lamp extinguished, he might be lost forever in the fog of dreams.

But in reality, Edmund had no time left. Filled with urgency, he had forgotten the captain’s advice to remain absolutely calm in [The Rift of Dreams] and to quit while ahead.

So, he frantically searched for the stairs to the next level on the first platform, but couldn’t find them.

Suddenly, Edmund spun around, feeling as if someone had walked behind him.

He saw nothing, yet could hear faint rustling sounds around him.

Losing sight in the thick, eerie fog was terrifying, as he couldn’t tell if there were any monsters lurking, watching him from within.

Edmund’s heartbeat quickened, unable to bear it any longer, he stood still, closed his eyes, wishing to quickly escape back to reality.

One second, two seconds.

Edmund opened his eyes, despairingly realizing that he hadn't returned to reality, and the kerosene lamp in his hand had apparently gone out completely.

It wasn't over yet. Edmund suddenly noticed a tall figure standing before him, appearing out of nowhere.

Slowly, he lifted his head and then saw —

A clown materializing in the mist, ghastly pale as if painted, its mouth stretched grotesquely to its ears, gaping wide.

Overwhelmed by intense fear, Edmund’s body involuntarily convulsed. He heard a loud wail, unhuman in its intensity, and realized it was his own scream emanating from his throat.

Edmund abruptly opened his eyes to find himself back in reality, the lingering despair and fear shadowing him. He sat on his bed, motionless, hugging himself.

"I'm sorry, Captain."

Tears fell drop by drop, his heart filled with resentment towards reality and disappointment in his own cowardice.

He knew, he knew that the key to overcoming the first layer of the Rift of Dreams was to confront his own [fear].

The Bureau had deduced that the entity encountered on the first platform would be one's deepest subconscious fear, and overcoming it would disperse the fog, marking the first step into transcendence.

But he just... couldn’t do it.

The clown was Edmund's fear incarnate, a part of his past he never wanted to revisit.

The moonlight, as always, streamed through the window, indifferent like a cold, distant goddess, unmoved by the affairs of the world, both pitiful and apathetic.

Edmund was out of options, having tried every method of self-help he knew.

What else could he do, what more was left...

At that moment, something struck him, and he abruptly looked up at the bedside table.

There lay a piece of white paper, quietly resting there. It was obtained from Lan En’s psychotherapy room. According to the rules of the Bureau, investigators must never make contact with eldritch beings, nor pray to them for anything. All items obtained from such beings must be surrendered or destroyed.

But for some reason, Edmund hadn’t been able to discard it immediately.

It was like a thread of spider silk extended from hell.

He thought to himself.

However, it wasn’t a Buddha extending this spider silk, but an eldritch deity.

……

That day, Lan En was pondering over the sigil he had drawn for the Kamui tribe in the psychotherapy room.

Although that incident was over and Lan En didn’t plan to get involved further, it still lingered in his mind, impossible to ignore easily.

After all, it involved an eldritch deity, and one could never be too cautious.

Thinking of this, Lan En anxiously wrestled with his memory, trying hard to recall information acquired in his past life in the game, determined to clarify the previous situation.

Why did the sigil work without a directed prayer? Which eldritch deity was it linked to? What was the cost?

Without understanding this, he couldn’t sleep soundly.

As Lan En reminisced, he subconsciously began to draw a sigil he had used previously with the Kamui tribe.

Naturally, it didn’t work.

Rather, that was normal. The fact that it worked before was the real anomaly.

The tinkling of a bell rang out —

The door to the psychotherapy office was pushed open from the outside, and the wind chime emitted a crisp sound. Lan En looked up to see a guest he had met once before, offering a perfectly measured smile: “Ah, it's you. Welcome.”

To Edmund, who had mustered desperate courage to seek help, this smile seemed like that of a hunter who had anticipated his prey’s arrival, calmly waiting for it to walk into the trap.

And the prey that willingly entered the trap... was undoubtedly himself.

Edmund sat silently across from Lan En, his heart filled with hesitation and conflict.

He knew that his actions were a clear betrayal of the Investigator’s code of the Bureau. If his seeking help from an eldritch being were discovered, he would be brought before the Bureau's internal tribunal and would almost certainly face execution.

But he had no other choice.

“Mr. Edmund, right?” Lan En browsed through previous consultation records, memories stirring. He squinted, remembering this was the client who had skirted around paying last time.

A client returning like this presented an opportunity to turn them into a regular, an opportunity Lan En wouldn’t miss.

“Did you resolve your issue from last time?”

Edmund was silent for a long time, his throat dry: “It’s... no longer important.”

Lan En nodded, noting down in the consultation record: condition worsened, possibly quit the job.

Sigh, workplace conflicts are an evergreen issue, aren't they?

“I, I want to know how to solve my current dilemma.” After a long struggle, Edmund finally chose to seek help from an eldritch being.

Dilemma? Wasn’t the workplace conflict resolved by quitting the job? Lan En twirled his pen, noticing the fear and nervousness in Edmund’s eyes.

Moreover, whenever he looked Edmund’s way, the man would unconsciously avert his gaze, unable to meet others’ eyes directly.

Was it a case of being crushed by workplace manipulations, leading to a loss of confidence? Such situations were quite common.

Helping someone with a psychological shadow from workplace experiences to rebuild their confidence is not a simple task. It requires a period of honest communication and, depending on the case, a short or long-term treatment plan.

There’s no such thing as a free lunch in this case, otherwise, he would be at a loss.

Lan En tactfully stated, “This will require a certain cost.”

Therapy fees!

Edmund pursed his lips and forced a bitter smile, realizing, indeed, there’s no free lunch in this world.

Making a deal with an eldritch being would inevitably come at a cost unimaginable to most.

He lowered his head: “I understand.”

He had mentally prepared himself for this.

Lan En was satisfied. Finally, he had work fitting for a psychotherapist, rather than just engaging in awkward chats with players for money.

This would be a good start.

Now that it was confirmed Edmund would become his client, Lan En also became serious. Sitting up straight, he said in the midst of Edmund’s anxious gaze: “Describe to me your condition over the past few days.”

Condition…

Edmund shivered, his voice hoarse after a long pause, “I... I can hardly bear it anymore. I’ve been unable to sleep these past days, it keeps harassing me. I feel like I'm going insane, but I can’t solve it... I just can't, I'm too scared, I can’t overcome my fear.”

His words were disjointed, out of order, and logically fragmented, his eyes bloodshot, looking like he might lose his mind at any moment.

Lan En was startled; he hadn’t expected the situation to worsen so severely in just a few days. Could this be one of those exploitative, blood-sweat factories?

His heart grew heavy, but his expression remained calm and gentle: “Don't be nervous, Edmund. Tell me, what exactly are you afraid of?”

“I... I,” Edmund hesitated.

“Don’t worry,” Lan En reassured, “Only by identifying the root of your fear can I help you resolve it.”

If Edmund still had his wits about him at this moment, he might wonder why Lan En didn’t just solve his problem directly, but right now, his condition had deteriorated to an extreme. After a moment of silence, he lowered his head and slowly said:

“Actually, it’s a very simple story.”

A circus came to perform for free near the slums, and all the children went to see it, unaware that the circus clown was a sadistic murderer who relished in killing young children.

This was the worst area in terms of public safety, a jungle where gangs thrived. Compared to the children in the city, no one cared if a few kids from here went missing, and no parents would report it. They were too lost in drugs, cigarettes, and vice to care about their burdens.

Edmund was one of the victims as a child.

He hid in a closet, witnessing the clown brutally murder his playmate. Blood was everywhere, pouring from that small body. The eyes, staring at him before losing their sparkle, seemed to question why he didn't save them. Then the clown pulled him out of the closet, touched his mouth with a knife, and said:

“Why don’t you smile? Look at this pitiful face. Kid, let me tell you, the more desperate you are, the more you should smile. Because people like me want to see your fear the most.”

Even after more than a decade, Edmund could still repeat word for word what the murderous clown had said to him. He looked up at Lan En, who was utterly confused, not realizing when a smile had crept onto his own face:

[Come on, smile for me.]

“Come on, smile for me.”

Lan En's pupils contracted slightly. For a moment, he thought he saw a hint of maniacal red tinge Edmund’s lips.

But that seemed to be just a fleeting illusion. Edmund still looked despondent, clutching his head in pain: “I can never forget that moment. He lifted me up, the knife against my chin, and all I saw was blood... a sea of red.”

“And then?” Lan En couldn’t help but ask.

“Then, then... I was saved, the police came, the clown died, lying in a pool of blood, throat slit by his own knife,” Edmund murmured.

“The police burst in?”

“I don’t know, they must have, I guess.”

But that scene became an inescapable nightmare for Edmund. Even after being rescued, to this day, he still couldn't overcome the fear in his heart.

Lan En fell silent upon hearing this. He had originally thought that Edmund's condition was due to workplace issues, but the situation seemed far more complex than he had imagined.

It likely involved childhood trauma as well.

Lan En twirled his pen, feeling the need to rethink the treatment plan. He initially intended to let Edmund leave first but noticed a hopeful glint in Edmund’s eyes.

Lan En took a deep breath and said, “First, solving this problem requires you to regain your confidence.”

“You are tormented by past pains, but having come this far over the years indicates that you’ve begun to move past them. It’s likely that something triggered a resurgence of your past PTSD.”

Lan En was well aware of the psychology of those affected by manipulative workplace behaviors, experiencing long-term oppression, leading to self-doubt, a sense of worthlessness, and a habit of depending on others’ orders.

The process of regaining confidence is about rediscovering one's true self.

“You need to return to your self.”

What? Isn't he supposed to directly solve the bizarre entity clinging to him? Confused, Edmund asked, “Then when can I completely resolve the issue?”

“It requires waiting for an opportunity.”

It might take waiting for a day when he has an epiphany, or finding a new job in a friendly work environment, perhaps then the psychological shadows and PTSD from the previous job would naturally dissolve.

Edmund left Lan En’s psychotherapy office with a hint of confusion. The process of seeking help from an eldritch being was entirely different from what he had expected. He had prepared to sell his soul to the devil, ready to sacrifice everything for help, only to leave unharmed and without any supernatural intervention, just a few pieces of advice.

Can this really... be enough?

Edmund looked up at the sky outside the psychotherapy clinic, still feeling uneasy. When would that so-called opportunity come?

“I’m telling you, that butterfly specimen is really hard to find. Shu Huang and I almost searched the entire city but couldn’t find it…”

Butterflies?

Edmund's eyes suddenly widened. Recently, the word 'butterfly' had incessantly surfaced in his mind. Every time a bizarre incident occurred, there was always a voice whispering in his ear, ‘butterfly, the butterfly has flown away,’ or something similar.

Could this be the opportunity?

Edmund quickly stopped three players about to enter the psychotherapy room: “Are you looking for a butterfly?”

The three players, Ye Ye, Baba, and Shu Huang Hao, were originally at a loss for clues and had reluctantly come to seek Lan En for some guidance. Just as they were about to enter, they were halted by an NPC.

The trio exchanged glances, realizing Edmund had just come out of the psychotherapy room: “Yes, why do you ask?”

“What kind of butterfly is it?”

“Uh, it’s black and red, with patterns like eyes on its wings…”

Before Ye Ye could finish, Edmund’s face suddenly changed, as he heard the nightmarish voice whispering in his ear.

[Butterfly…]

[The butterfly is going to fly away…]

It was that monster again.

Edmund bit his lower lip; the phenomenon that usually only appeared at night was now spreading to the daytime.

But fortunately, the bizarre occurrences that only happened at night didn’t manifest. He managed to compose himself and asked, “Right, do you know where it is?”

Ye Ye shook his head: “We are also on the hunt for it. If anyone knows where it might be, it’s probably Lan En.”

Edmund paused, glancing towards the door of the psychotherapy room, but Ye Ye continued, “However, even if you ask, he won’t tell you.”

Seeing Edmund's questioning look, Ye Ye shrugged: “After all, knowing the answer outright doesn’t really make it a game anymore, right? The game developers wouldn’t do that.”

His words were censored by the game, and what Edmund heard was, “After all, knowing the answer outright doesn’t really make it a challenge anymore, right? He wouldn’t do that.”

A challenge? A challenge, indeed. Dealing with an eldritch being wasn’t so simple, but how could he be in the mood for a challenge now?

Seeing Edmund’s disappointment, Ye Ye spoke calmly: “We have some clues already. Sir, it seems you are also looking for the butterfly? Could we perhaps exchange some information?”

Edmund actually knew nothing about the butterfly, and even if he did, he had no valuable clues to offer. However, faced with a glimmer of hope, he couldn't help but nod in agreement.

……

Meanwhile, elsewhere.

Upon returning to the Black Poker headquarters, Karens didn’t hesitate to relay his conversation with Lan En to the leader of Black Poker.

“I think we need to consider the significance of Lan En’s words and quickly find out who in Black Poker stole the butterfly specimen known as the Soul-Eating Butterfly.”

The leader didn’t respond immediately, looking at Karens with an expression filled with complex meanings.

Karens was somewhat puzzled: “What's the matter, boss?”

“Nothing, I got it. I'll have someone take care of it, don’t worry about it anymore,” the leader replied.

Karens was a bit perplexed, as he had previously handled all matters related to Lan En. But since the boss had spoken, Karens didn’t object over such a small issue and, after acknowledging the order, left the leader's office.

"After he left, the leader of the Black Poker gang sat in his chair, staring at the report brought by his subordinates, his mind wavering."

"'What's the matter? Having regrets?'"

"A strange voice suddenly echoed in the office of the Black Poker boss, startling him. But he quickly composed himself and looked towards the source of the sound."

"There stood a young man with an indiscernible face, leaning against the wall near the office door, having appeared unnoticed."

"The leader of Black Poker kept a stern face: 'Of course, I wouldn't dare.'"

"In reality, he was indeed starting to regret his actions."

"He had followed the orders of this mysterious person to send three men to stealthily attack Lann's apartment at night, but none of them had returned."

"The leader of Black Poker expressed his concern truthfully: 'Regarding the upcoming banquet, I'm worried that our arrangements won't pose a threat to him.'"

"'You don’t need to worry about that,' Amos said with a smile, 'The Soul-Eating Butterfly... I didn't expect to encounter such a rare thing here. A ready-made tool has already been presented to us.'"

"Joel thought for a moment, then nodded: 'I understand.'"

"When he looked up, the mysterious young man had already disappeared."