Suddenly, a table rose from an opening in the floor. It was a smooth, white desk with a minimalist design, its edges smoothly rounded. Resting on top was a folded laptop, matching the same glossy white color. Jacques watched as the table emerged until the floor sealed itself seamlessly, leaving no trace of any hidden panel beneath.
"What is this?" Jacques gestured with both hands, palms facing upward. He looked around, expecting one of Sigma's holographic screens to appear with an explanation. That was usually how it worked.
A holographic screen flickered to life near the wall, a bit farther than Jacques would have liked.
"That's my present," Sigma's voice carried a singsong tone.
"I don't need this! I need to enter the subconscious again—this is important!" Jacques said, his voice firm.
"Boy, do you even understand how dangerous it is to tap into the subconscious mind?" Sigma sighed. "If you step onto the wrong ground, you could fall into limbo and never wake up again. You'd be trapped in eternal sleep—not alive, not dead. Is that what you want?"
"Then I'll just be careful," Jacques countered.
"No, you can't! Look at them."
Sigma projected a series of images onto the screen—men lying in capsules, their vitals and brainwaves being monitored. It wasn't just a few; there were many. Most were muscular, some had beards and tattoos—hardly the type one would associate with being dreamers, looking more like athletes with their physiques.
"They're trapped in limbo because they stepped onto the wrong ground, believing in the illusion of their own dreams. They're still alive but unable to wake up because, in their minds, their dreams are reality," Sigma warned.
The screen shifted, now showing moving images of people dressed in white, resembling patients in an asylum.
"And then, look at these men..." Sigma continued. "These are the ones who weren't trapped in limbo but instead lost their sanity while inside the dream world."
Jacques studied them carefully. Some were laughing hysterically for no apparent reason. Their appearances were disheveled—overgrown hair, unkempt beards.
"They are not weak; they are soldiers, failed in our attempt to heal their PTSD. Because they stayed too long in the dreamland, they forgot to wake up."
One man repeatedly slammed his head against the wall, only for nurses to rush in and restrain him before he seriously harmed himself.
"We're trying to protect you, Jacques," Sigma said, his voice calmer now. "If even these strong soldiers couldn't handle it, what makes you think you can?"
Since Jacques had stopped responding, Sigma concluded that the boy had finally decided to cooperate.
"We will return to LUCY again, but only if you truly need it and if your physique remains stable. Until then, there's a laptop for you. You can use it to browse the internet or play video games—it's yours. It's connected to the internet, so you can interact with people. Hopefully, you won't get bored. Lastly, don't forget to eat the nutritious food we provide for you. Have a good day, Jacques," Sigma said before disconnecting the call.
Leaning back in his chair, Sigma turned his attention to contacting the scientists.
"Sir," came the voice of Dr. Zhicotte, followed by his holographic image appearing from the projector on Sigma's desk.
"How is the research? Any progress?" Sigma asked coldly.
Dr. Zhicotte wiped the sweat from his forehead—clearly, the results were not promising. "We've tried our best, but… we keep losing most of the aether cells when attempting to cultivate them under various temperatures and conditions, including those mimicking the weather on Planet Martian, their place of origin. It's still not working. We're still trying to figure it out."
"What's the situation, Doctor?"
"Nothing to worry about, sir. It's typical in the early stages of research. We have to fail several times to identify what works." Dr. Zhicotte's voice trembled slightly.
"You know, Doctor, LUCY isn't cheap. One trip to the subconscious costs more than eight times your monthly rent. Do not waste any resources you have, and create something that can convince our investors to fund us. The sooner, the better," Sigma firmly emphasized the seriousness of their situation.
"Yes, I understand, sir. But we must be patient to achieve quality results.," Dr. Zhicotte wiped his sweat again.
"Alright, but what can you do in this first extraction that will convince me that you're the right person for my vision?" Sigma rested his lips on his intertwined fingers.
"I can ensure we keep the aether cell viable, preventing it from withering and allowing our clones to survive longer than they did in past experiments." Dr. Zhicotte smiled confidently, which helped give Sigma assurance.
"I'll expect progress. Get back to me later." Sigma said, cutting off the connection.
He then checked in with the therapists, who were monitoring Jacques via hidden CCTV cameras, taking notes on his behavior. Some doctors were tracking his heart rate and vital signs remotely from the very seat Jacques was sitting in. Even his activities on the laptop were being monitored—his search history, the files he saved, the forums he engaged with. Every little communication, every interaction, was under surveillance. They even had access to his game passwords, email credentials—everything.
When Sigma called the team of therapists, the head therapist, Bianca, was analyzing the data they had gathered from Jacques' experience in LUCY, along with the VR simulation.
"Yes?" Bianca answered the audio call.
"How is the result? How long until he's ready for the next session?" Sigma asked.
Bianca turned to the medical team. "When will the subject be ready for the next LUCY session?"
One of the doctors analyzed Jacques' health data and responded, "He'll be ready by tomorrow. The boy is in good health."
Bianca relayed the answer. "Tomorrow."
"Good. Now, what do you think about his subconscious? Have you figured out why LUCY detected over a hundred years of life?"
Bianca shook her head in thought. "I'm not sure why. I'll check the machine later if you allow me."
Sigma smirked. "Nah, I'll have my engineers check on that later. What are you working on now?"
Bianca waved the papers in her hands. "Just some notes on what we see in his subconscious."
"Don't waste your time, just think of how to heal those PTSD soldiers," Sigma grunted.
"Oh, I thought YOU wanted an effective trap on GERTRUDE?" Bianca smirked.
"Don't worry about that, we've got other people to do it."
"Tch, ... fine."
"Talk to you soon."
Sigma closed the connection.
Once he was alone in his office, Sigma drummed his fingers on the table as he processed the information. This was definitely beyond normal, and it only deepened his curiosity about its potential link to the Black Dragon. Unfortunately, no records—neither in databases nor libraries—contained any information about the Black Dragon Astral Guardian.
***
The truck arrived in Hamman village, a traditional village filled with greens and blues, nestled in the middle of the mountains. It was very peaceful, and the air was fresh.
"Jack! Wakey wakey! We've arrived at my home!" Adol's rough and loud voice woke Ethan from his sleep.
He tried to open his eyes, checking the new environment. He could hear the birds chirping and bugs chirping from afar—a classic peaceful village setting.
He jumped off the truck and followed Adol. "This is your village?"
"Yep," Adol inhaled deeply. "Ahhh... I can smell my wife's cooking already! Let's go, Jack!"
Adol patted Ethan hard on the back, making him feel like he was being pushed away. Without waiting, Adol proceeded to walk up the uphill path.
"W-wait... where is your house again?" Ethan was already lost, looking at the mountain trail. All he could see was a steep path with cruel stairs leading upwards, and a village hanging on the mountainside.
"Did you see any houses around? That's our destination," Adol turned around with open arms and then kept walking.
"Oh no... this is why I hate being outdoors..." Ethan followed Adol anyway because he had no choice. "Why do people build villages in such a strange and scary way? Can't they be normal?"
Then he checked Marie's phone; the battery was dead. Great. Just when he had some questions to ask that mysterious woman. Ethan grunted and tried his best to push his limits. This was the only way he could feel safe—at least that's what he thought.
Adol, hearing Ethan's complaint, explained, "Because this area is filled with monsters. Bigalows—creatures as huge as sabertooths—often show up and mess with our livestock. If they can't find any, they might break into our houses and kidnap our children. We might find their bones deep in the woods, if we're lucky. That's why we hang our houses up there."
"Why can't you just move away?" Ethan mutters so soft Adol couldn't hear it. Soon, Ethan feel his stomach growling.
"Oh, you're hungry? Don't worry, my wife is a great cook. I already told her we have a guest—a boy who is very thin and needs a lot of nutritious food. She'll cook a lot for you."
"No thanks, I prefer to keep my body slim, actually..." Ethan adjusted his eyeglasses.
But Adol smacked his huge arm on Ethan's shoulder, making the boy feel like his bone might dislocate. This man seemed to think that just because someone was born male, they had to be tough!
"Hey! You can't attract girls if you keep your body thin! Girls love muscles and hair! I promise, once you get out of here, you'll have plenty of girls lining up to be your girlfriend because you'll be as muscular as me! Hahaha!" Adol laughed while shaking Ethan's shoulder.
"S-sir, I'm gay," Ethan confessed normally. He never denied his sexuality.
But Adol just laughed it off. "Nah, you just haven't found the right girl yet. Come on, let's go!"
They kept climbing the stairs. According to Adol, there were 1,000 stairs, and they were only at the 25th when Ethan started feeling out of breath.
At the 80th stair, Ethan collapsed to the floor, trying to catch his breath.
"It's just the 80th! Come on, don't be a woman!" Adol pulled Ethan up, forcing him to stand and keep climbing.
"But... I feel like I'm a woman in a man's body..." Ethan said seriously, meaning it. But Adol laughed it off as if it were a joke.
"Come on, don't be bitter! You're a man, a tough one! You can do this; you just need proper training. I swear, if you were my son, I would force you to climb these stairs day and night until it was nothing to you."
Ethan rolled his eyes, and by the 120th stair, he crawled his way up.
"Even my grandmother didn't breathe hard climbing these stairs!" Adol mocked, but not with mean intention.
At the 130th stair, Ethan couldn't continue.
"Are you going to stop right there?!" Adol scratched his head, clearly baffled that town boys were so different from village boys.
Ethan didn't even have the breath to respond.
"Alright, I don't want to leave you behind like this, so..." Adol picked Ethan up onto his back. "Now we can climb together! Oh damn, you're very light. Are you really a boy?"
"I told you I feel like a woman inside a man's body," Ethan clarified once again. He never ran out of breath to emphasize his feelings.
"Hahaha, that's funny. Don't give up yet, buddy! You're still a manly man; you just aren't used to moving around—typical town boy."
Ethan rolled his eyes, realizing that Adol didn't understand the concept of "third gender" at all.