CH 147.2

Despite its name, Operating Room 3 looks nothing like an operating theatre.

It looks almost more like… an office space, save for the far end of the room where a small section was isolated out, and which Mu Jiashi feels, looks like the inside of an ICU ward.

No, wait, actually, someone is lying there.

Before he can check on the person, the lone man staying inside of this room greets them, “good afternoon. Can I help you?”

Mu Jiashi observes this man.

He’s in his twenties it seems. The most striking part of his appearance is the shockingly weak and emaciated form he’s in.

He looks like he could faint at any moment.

In front of him is probably a computer, with his hands on the keyboard.

Next to him is an upturned, hemispherical glass bowl-like container.

He then glances out at the person lying in the isolated section some distance away.

The man seems to have gathered their intentions from this alone, and says, “apologies… That is my twin older brother, and he’s sick. I heard there are medical services here, so I brought him here.”

Then the weak man leans back, tired, rubbing his eyes; Mu Jiashi notices that it is rather bloodshot. The man then rubs his wrists a few times.

He then asks, “are you the doctors in this hospital?”

“We are people who heard about what you’re doing,” Mu Jiashi says, a rather outlandish idea emerging in his mind, “you are writing up an artificial intelligence, aren’t you?”

The man seems quite surprised, and replies, after a moment, “yes, that is my PhD thesis topic, but… how did you know? Oh… wait, I think I remember.”

He speaks quite slowly, hoarsely, tiredly. It suggests his brain is also operating slowly due to his exhaustion.

He says, “I remember that… someone came to me, telling me the AI I’m writing can be used to do something, but I… thought it unnecessary.

The world is chaotic outside, and my project is not done yet. I also have to care for my older brother, I don’t have time for others…

I don’t mean to be ruthless; I also want to see people live,

But, my older brother is dying.”

He says, looking at the isolated section of the room.

The Missiontakers look at each other, then also at the man lying in the ‘ward’ area. He looks quite like the weak man here, looking equally tired, emaciated, and also having the spectre of death about him. Just like his twin younger brother said, he’s dying.

Mu Jiashi figures this conversation is going to be long, but fortunately, it seems they’ve found the right person.

He asks, “so what’s your name?”

“Liang Xingyi,” he replies, “my older brother is Liang Zhiyi; ‘what you do is what you know.'”

“A good name,” dryly, Mu Jiashi commends the name, then turns to serious business immediately, “so how long have you and your brother been here?”

“How long… I don’t remember either. A month or two, maybe.”

Mu Jiashi can’t help but raise his brows in response.

A month or two.

In the Ultimate Nightmare, time isn’t flowing normally. They’ve gone through the spread of the madness to the Raining Hellfire in just an hour or two.

In other words, Liang Xingyi may actually be a one-of-a-kind NPC in this instance.

‘Escape’ certainly has very few true NPCs. Even many of those unresponsive, unimportant looking extra characters in some Nightmares who just scream ‘I’m an unimportant NPC’ may just be an Actor slacking off.

It hasn’t become substantiated knowledge until Missiontakers broadly learned about the existence of Actors.

——Speaking of which, setting the Missiontakers and Actors up in conflict despite both being human players, could it also be some weird idea those game designers had? It seems to serve no useful function either.

It can’t be just to increase the percentage of humans in the game, no?

Or is it actually better for there to be as few NPCs as possible? So the game can accommodate as many human players as it can?

But why?

Mu Jiashi realises his thoughts are digressing and quickly reins them in, looking back at Liang Xingyi. He actually can’t be sure he’s not an Actor right now.

Maybe he just lost his sense of self here.

But whatever his role, that doesn’t matter for their trying to understand what’s going on.

Meanwhile, Mu Jiashi staying silent means Shen Yünjü had to take up the mantle, having already asked, “so how are you actually living in this place?”

“My brother doesn’t need everyday necessities much,” Liang Xingyi replies, “what the hospital has left is good enough. As for me, I leave for an hour every morning to look for food and supplies, before coming back.

Besides caring for him and gathering supplies, I just keep working on my PhD theses…

Not that I know if I can still be awarded a doctorate with the times being like this, but… but it’s something I can do. I have to do something, or I just keep wanting to check out what’s going on outside, and if there are people that can still be saved. It’s just depressing.”

His voice is trailing off a little, stuttering. He’s gripping his fingers nervously, while also becoming slightly monotonous in tone.

Mu Jiashi listened to him quietly, before asking, “so you don’t get bored living like this?”

“No, I don’t, and I’m serious. Even though it’s just my older brother and I here… Well, it’s lonely, but I’m also happy I met you and talked with you a little today.

But I don’t feel bored. My older brother always said I’m a dummy who loses all awareness when I’ve got my eyes set on something, and I can’t deny it, I… do kind of live in my own bubble.

While my older brother… our parents passed away early, and he was the one who cared for me. I’m a bookworm, and I can’t really talk to people, I don’t know how… but he’s very different.

He didn’t like school, and so he dropped out to find work so I could keep studying. I worked hard until I got scholarship and awards from competitions, whatnot, and met great tutors… Our lives improved.

But then my older brother fell ill. I was preparing for my PhD theses when the hospital called to tell me my brother fell ill; he fainted at the roadside and someone called an ambulance for him.

That was also the day the madness started to spread.”

Liang Xingyi suddenly stops, like the word ‘madness’ has triggered other memories in him, he is quiet.

Looking around, Mu Jiashi can see his companions to also be similarly concerned and doubtful – towards Liang Xingyi, the person, and not what he said.

He looks completely sane, just tired, probably because his body cannot have much more of this kind of lifestyle.

Mentally, though, he seems lucid and rational enough.

Is this really the case, though?

Never mind why Liang Xingyi brought his older brother to a psychiatric hospital for treatment, but that glass bowl next to Liang Xingyi’s computer is already enough to make Mu Jiashi wary.

Liang Xingyi only has his older brother left now; he is developing some kind of AI, that some people saw enough value in to find him and tell him there is something for the good of humanity to be done.

Reasonable to assume this relates to the Tower’s AI, no?

Is Liang Xingyi still sane? Is he really free of the madness’ infection? Even if he’s inside a hospital that is brewing madness within?

Even three experienced Missiontakers have been quite noticeably affected emotionally just entering and walking around. Liang Xingyi, who, by his own admission, has been here for more than a month. Can he really stay unaffected?

Mu Jiashi cannot believe in it at all.

Meanwhile, Liang Xingyi is continuing again, from the day his older brother fell ill.

His tone has changed in subtle ways, “I always knew something must have been wrong. He always felt tired, but reassured me he’s fine.

There is no way I can stop worrying about him. He’s the only family I have. No one… none in this world is closer than we are. He’s my other half. He’s my twin brother.

So when I… I knew he was hospitalised, I really was… I wished he could have a good rest for a while. Stop working as hard as before. I’ve grown up… and we’re the same age, if you think about it.

Then… I don’t know. The world changed. There was madness all around. All around me and my older brother, too.

The hospital my older brother was in got filled to the brim by madmen and people wounded by madmen in no time.

It was devastating. My older brother also wouldn’t wake up at all. They were telling me my older brother had a rare disease… it was terminal.

I couldn’t believe it when they told me I should be prepared to lose him, because… because his EEG was still responsive.

It’s like he’s more in a vegetative state than actual brain death. He’s alive, but he just can’t wake up or talk to me. He can still hear what I tell him, though, I’m sure.

The doctors told me there is no hope, but I can’t accept that. It was really chaotic at that time, too…

Even when society is crumbling all over, everything still needed money. I… I was too poor. I had to get my older brother discharged, even if he still needed specialist care in a specialised ward.

I tried to learn what I could… Time passed, without my brother waking up.

I was still working on my PhD thesis, when… that thing from the sky fell. The world was turned upside down again, for the much worse this time.

What you could still buy with money was gone. We had to fight, to burgle; that is when I heard about this hospital, this place.

I knew about the experiments conducted here, because I found experimental data in my research.

But to me, what was most important was the medical supplies they had on hand.

When I was here, the original patients and others have already been transferred away. I got whatever help I could to renovate this Operating Room…”

Shen Yünjü can’t help but interrupt and ask, “why renovate this Operating Room in particular?”

All the different patient wards in the hospital are there. There has to be at least one that is more comfortable, bright and warm than this operating theatre. Yet, this is what Liang Xingyi chose.

Shadowy, damp, and clearly, having seen the passing of many lives and drenched in countless blood.

Why this Operating Room?

Liang Xingyi seems confused, asking, “what do you mean, renovating this Operating Room in particular?”

Shen Yünjü glances at Mu Jiashi, and asks again, “there are many rooms for patients in this hospital. Why did you pick this one?”

Liang Xingyi is still repeating that keyword, though, “what do you mean I had to renovate?”

The three Missiontakers notice the strangeness with the mood, and stay silent. Shen Yünjü stops clarifying his question.

Liang Xingyi is still latching onto this renovation business, though, and is refusing to accept Shen Yünjü’s question as-is. He is fixated on it, repeating his question once more.

“What do you mean, I had to renovate?”

The Operating Room is silent.

Mu Jiashi then tells him, “he means, he wanted to know what you added into this Operating Room.”

Liang Xingyi monotonously replied, “oh, is that so?” Before the Missiontakers can say anything, Liang Xingyi explains, “I brought my computer, a bed that can support my older brother comfortably, and… the ‘container.'”

“Container?”

“Yes…” Liang Xingyi’s hand is caressing that hemispherical glass container, saying, “to contain my older brother’s brain.”

Even if they were already expecting it, hearing that still made Mu Jiashi feel a chill down his spine.