And so he logged out.
That was to say, Han Jing bade Timothy goodnight and then ran like hell back to his room—before proceeding to logout. The man ended up waking in his own world and sat up with an aching head, he slapped a hand over his forehead. And it wasn't because his body felt like crap. This headache was an onslaught of his own doing.
What exactly had gone back there?
Why the hell was there someone who looked like an exact replica of someone he knew? Was that supposed to mean something? Anything? Were the Creators making the world according to the Will of the Players now? Was it possibly influenced by his own mind in a way? Or did it mean that every human here on Earth had a counterpart in that world?
Maybe he was thinking too hard.
