I stand stunned by what I see.
A vast, circular room stretches out before me, connected to other rooms, filled with advanced technological devices.
Giant screens cover the walls, displaying data and information I cannot possibly process all at once.
In the center of the room, there's a slightly elevated circular platform with a strange-looking device on it—something I've never seen before.
I move forward slowly, my eyes darting from one screen to another, trying to make sense of what I'm looking at.
I stop in front of the wide, round table, and with my finger, I touch its surface. Suddenly, a map of the mansion appears.
A detailed, architectural map showing all the rooms. I press again, and it shifts to display a map of the prison.
I can see the interconnected passageways leading to the cells.
I press once more, and another map appears—if I'm not mistaken, it's the one for the place I'm standing in now.
The main room is circular, with corridors branching off to smaller circular rooms.
It's like a spider's web, connecting one room to another.
What is all of this? Is this some kind of bat cave or what? I haven't even fully explored the mansion yet, let alone the prison, and now I've found this place.
This time, instead of just pressing with one finger, I touch the map's surface and double-tap. The prison map appears again. I repeat the motion, and the mansion map returns. An idea crosses my mind, so I apply the same approach.
A map of the entire city appears before me.
Damn it! If this place is discovered, it could be enough to accuse me of treason against the kingdom. If word gets out, there's no way I could clear my name.
No matter what I try, it seems this map has reached its limit.
I go back to the mansion map and tap randomly on a spot. Suddenly, the layout of a specific room appears—it's Ivana's.
On one of the screens, a live camera feed shows Ivana sleeping in her bed.
The body's owner really doesn't trust anyone; he has surveillance devices everywhere.
I exit the room and move from one to another.
In Hank's room, he's shirtless, crouched on the ground, making slow, deliberate hand movements as if meditating or something similar.
I switch to Dexter's room—he's not much different from Hank, except that instead of meditating, he's doing pull-ups, push-ups, and other exercises.
In Azaria's room, she stands by the window, resting her head on her hand, gazing at the sky. Her expression makes me wonder what she's thinking about.
It's the same for all the rooms—even the monitoring room can be watched. This really is madness, but this gives me complete control.
On the sides of the table, there are sets of buttons. I hesitate to press one of them, but curiosity wins.
The moment I press it, a medium-sized screen pops up displaying a list of names alongside their permissions, with options to add or remove them.
I remember asking Hank about the incident when Ivana locked herself in the bathroom, and I couldn't open the door no matter how much I tried to apply the method he taught me.
His response was that I'm the one who grants permissions to those who have the right to use nanotechnology.
It turns out that the body's owner gave Ivana control permissions for the room so that when she locks herself inside, no one can open it but her.
Now, all the permissions are right in front of me. I can remove or add them to her. Interesting.
My interest grows, so I start experimenting with all the buttons to uncover more fascinating things.
One of the most significant is a screen of the same size, displaying a geometric outline of a human body with all its medical information, like heart rate and so on.
At the bottom, there's a tag that reads:
Status: Stable.
If I'm not mistaken, that body is my current one, and that tag comes from the device the doctor used to communicate with me.
Another screen appears, labeled Call History. The last recorded entry is my call with the doctor.
Name: Thomas.
I search through past records but find nothing—it seems everything has been erased. With a little more digging, I discovered a law stating that call logs are deleted after five days.
I can't precisely figure out who I was speaking to before I woke up. Damn it! I'm at the mercy of surprises now.
Should I just wait for someone to call? There has to be a way to contact them—what's the point of all this? What if the body's owner needed something or wanted to deliver a message? This doesn't make sense.
I exit everything and return to the map, specifically the prison map. I tap on a few of the cells randomly, hoping there are cameras installed, but nothing happens. Why didn't he install cameras in the prison?
I leave the table to start exploring the place. I randomly pick one of the corridors, which leads me to a room with the same design but without the electronic devices. Instead, there's a ring-like shape on the floor.
On the walls are all kinds of weapons.
Pistols, sniper rifles, hunting weapons, knives, long and short swords, grenades—on and on.
Don't tell me the body's owner was an expert in all of these.
On the other side, there are also punching bags hanging next to a plastic dummy shaped like a human. It looks like he used to train here.
I head into another corridor connected to the training room—it's a mini gym.
It seems he used to lift weights. Well, that explains the muscle mass I have now. Does this mean I need to start training to maintain it? No, no, no.
It seems nothing comes for free.
Anyway, I leave the room and move on to another one. Finally, I've found it.
In one of the rooms with the same structure, there's a large bed in the center, surrounded by wardrobes. In front of it, a massive writing board covers the wall.
At last, I've found a room that suggests someone actually lived here, unlike the other fake one. It seems the body's owner used to sleep here.
Inside the wardrobe, there are clothes that make no effort to hide scars or marks on the body. They really are his clothes.
But I leave all of this intriguing stuff behind and focus on two things.
On one of the nearby tables, there's a collection of medicines—so many that they remind me of the ones I used to take when I was sick in my past life.
I step closer, taking a deep breath as I try to push away memories of the past, but as if the present refuses to let me forget, it forces me to remember. The type of medicine, the names I read as I hold them in my hands—
Impossible. I could never forget these names, these brands.
There are medicines to maintain brain cells, medicines to preserve the testicles. With every word I read, my eyebrows rise, and my eyes widen. An idea begins to form in my mind—one that's difficult for me to comprehend.
There are also drugs to enhance endurance and maintain the body. Was the body's owner subjected to procedures for "For better focus"?
Is he like me? Is he one of the victims who underwent those operations?
As these thoughts race through my mind, pieces of the puzzle start to come together little by little. My legs weaken from the shock, and I sit on the edge of the bed to stop myself from collapsing to the ground.
A fake assassination.
A vague and unclear operation.
The assassination of the doctor who performed the procedure.
The body's owner, sexually impaired, who suddenly and without any explanation started reacting to the opposite sex.
No… don't tell me the procedure the doctor performed was a factory reset.
Could that even be possible? But how? If he was like me, how did he survive all these years without dying? Not to mention, he's a strong-built fighter—he should be powerless, weak, and drained of energy.
How could he fight the world in that deteriorated physical state? No, Something's missing here.
A thought hits me: maybe the purpose of these medicines is something else. I mean, these are not medicines made specifically for people like us. They're regular medications for other illnesses, and we just happened to use them.
What about the procedure?
I grab my head, and with a quick movement, I run my hands through my hair, turning it into a chaotic mess—just like my thoughts right now.
I take a deep breath, feeling like my head is about to explode.
I'm in an emotional state because this is a sensitive issue that concerns me. I need to calm down and come back to think about this later.
I get up from the bed and turn my gaze to the wall, covered with random writings.
The writings are so chaotic that it's hard to make out anything clearly. It seems like the body's owner wrote things over one another without erasing the previous ones.
It looks like he had some kind of internal psychological struggle and used this method to vent his feelings.
I can sympathize with him. I used to do the same thing in my personal notebook. Of course, I didn't write in such a hysterical or crazy way, overlapping words like this.
I focus harder, hoping to notice something. All my attempts fail, but just as I'm about to give up, I manage to make out two things—barely noticeable but clear because they were written much larger than the rest.
I grab the pen I found. It looks like the same pen he used to write. I take a sheet of paper, and with deep concentration, I write them down:
"Why do I have the power of Shadow?"
What?
Is he talking about a superpower that appeared after taking the serum?
Without realizing it, I turn my eyes toward one of the shadows in the room. I raise my hand, and as thoughts flood my mind, I recall a particular word.
No way! Don't tell me you stole that idea too.
"Arise."
…
I repeat it again and again.
"Arise."
Nothing.
Disappointment hits me. I mean, wouldn't it be fun if I gained the power I'm thinking of? It wouldn't be a problem if you stole—I mean, borrowed—something amazing.
(Author: "Borrowed? Now I borrowing? In your dreams.")
I leave the room while still thinking about what the body's owner meant by shadow power. And why did he ask why? I mean, isn't the reason obvious? Wasn't it the serum? Or is there another source for power?
I reach the main room. My journey has now brought me back to where I started, as most of the other rooms are empty. It seems the body's owner had plans to put more things here but ran out of time.
I stand in front of the table and press all the buttons, discovering what I can.
I press one, and a faint vibration begins beside the table. A secret passage for the secret cave.
How many secret things are there?
Do all the mansions I own now have the same features? And how did he build something like this? Does the old-looking young man know about it? Does the one they call "the Boss" know about it? With these thoughts in mind, I descend into the secret passage.
Should I call it the secret passage to the secret passage of the secret cave?
Am I losing it? With all the shocks I've been through, I should be grateful I still have my sanity.
I keep walking for about ten seconds until I reach a rusty door. When I open it, it creaks as though I'm violating it.
I step out into a wide clearing filled with trees. There's no doubt about it—this is the same spot where the car stopped to take me to the arena.
This confirms to me that the old-looking young man knows about the secret passage—I mean, the secret cave—which also means the Boss knows.
I head back to the main room and stand in front of the table, continuing to explore it.
Another screen appears in front of me, but this time it asks for a password. This surprises me. Since I entered this place, everything has been accessible without any protection—why now?
Of course, I exit the screen. There's no way I'd guess the password. With these thoughts, I focus again on finding a way to contact them.
The way I answered the doctor, Thomas's call, makes me think of something. I don't know… well, let's try. What's the worst that could happen?
I say to myself, "Call Thomas."
A mechanical voice responds:
"Calling Thomas."
Seconds later, I hear the sound of a phone ringing in my head. Damn it—it actually worked.
"Sir, is there a problem?"
What do I say now?
"Resend the address again."
"Of course, sir. Give me a few seconds."
While I wait, without ending the call, the call history screen appears in front of me again. Under Thomas's name, I notice a symbol I didn't see earlier—a mail icon with the number 2 written above it.
"Has it arrived, sir?"
As he asks, I press the icon, and two messages appear:
Address: xxxxx
Address: xxxxx
"Good."
I finish speaking internally, and just as I think of ending the call, I hear the same mechanical voice:
"The conversation has been closed."
This is truly amazing. It's as if I'm carrying an entire system with me. Hahaha.
Now, let's test this.
"Call Ivana."
"Calling Ivana."
So all I need is to know the person's name. Of course, the number and name must already exist in the system data.
"You've never called me before. What's the matter?"
Her sweet voice, always carrying that cold edge, speaks inside my head.
"I made a mistake. Sorry for disturbing your sleep."
"How did you know I was asleep?"
Damn it!
"It's late, of course you'd be sleeping. Don't tell me you were doing something else."
She hangs up without replying, which is a relief. I quickly pull up the camera for her room and see her placing the phone beside her as she goes back to sleep.
I let out a breath. I need to be more careful. I return to what I was doing.
If Ivana's number is in the system, then Hank's must be there as well. There's no need to test it. As for Azaria and Dexter, I don't even know if they have phones in the first place.
I say to myself, the old-looking young man…
Of course, nothing comes up. I need his name.
I try the same thing with "BOSS"…
same result.
What about "Number Two"? It's probably another empty attempt—I need to know his name. But to my surprise:
"Calling Number Two."
Now I get it. It's not about the real name but the one entered into the system data. How stupid of me! Focus.
"Yes, sir, at your command."
If I'm not mistaken, it's the same voice as the driver whom the body's owner ordered to kill Number Two.
"What did you do with the body?"
"In response to you, sir, I burned it and scattered the ashes in the bathroom."
He's decisive, no doubt about it. It's clear he's carrying Number Two's communication device. Building on his previous words, I ask:
"Is the monitor present?"
Of course, by "the monitor," I mean the old-looking young man.
"One moment, sir… I don't sense his presence, sir. Should I prepare the car?"
He can't sense him? Now it makes sense. The body's owner gave him the serum—he has the ability to sense people. It's all logical now.
"Not now. You can rest."
"As you wish, sir."
I stretch out and yawn, my body aching with exhaustion. It's been a long day, full of madness. I head toward the room.
I'll postpone my visit to Dahi. There's too much on my mind, too many things to think about.
I was just about to lie down when the ringing started in my head.
Who's calling me now?
Of course, I answer the call.
"It's all because of you! Everything that's happening is because of you!"
A voice filled with screaming and despair slams into my head. Before even a few seconds pass, the call cuts off.
This day won't end, will it?
I head back to the main room and press the button for the call history screen.
The name of the last call appears before me.
Dahi.
It seems I can't postpone my visit after all. He did exactly what I was afraid of. psychopath.
"Call Number Two."
"Calling Number Two."
"Sir."
"Prepare the car. I have something to do."