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Hearing Franca’s words, Lumian felt a sense of resonance.
“If there hadn’t been hidden dangers in that dream of Cordu Village, I wouldn’t have wanted to wake up either…”
As he sighed, he suddenly paused, then said in a low voice, “No, I would force myself to wake up.”
If he didn’t wake up, he couldn’t try to resurrect Aurore!
Franca silently withdrew her gaze and walked over to the long sofa in Luo Shan’s home. She sat down, leaning back against the sofa as if she lacked the strength to support her body.
Lumian glanced over and followed, sitting down right next to Franca.
Franca turned her head to look at him but said nothing.
After about ten seconds, she stared at the turned-off TV across from her and murmured as if to herself,
“Back home, my favorite thing to do was to pick any channel and be on my phone while listening to the sound. My mom would scold me every time…”
Lumian didn’t respond, just listening quietly.
Franca’s expression gradually softened.
“My mom used to run a small restaurant, which later became a larger establishment. She was quick-tempered and efficient, and couldn’t stand to see me being lazy. But you know, she’d just say a few words—in one ear and out the other, it didn’t affect me at all. Later on, when business wasn’t so good for a few years, she simply gave it up. Every day she’d play cards with her siblings and friends, eat here and drink there, and occasionally organize a trip. She couldn’t have been more carefree or happy.
“My dad, my brother and I were also quite happy. We didn’t have to be scolded or nagged. As my dad put it, we’d see each other once a day, take a walk together, chat about family matters before bed, and their marriage even improved.
“My dad was a mid-level manager at a big company. He’d been into electronics since early on, starting with radios and such, then tinkering with computers and getting into games. When I was little, I was always confused about why dad was always sitting in front of the computer. He said it was work, but he was always clicking on strange images. When I got a bit older, I fell in love with gaming too. I guess that’s what they call leading by example.
“At first, my parents wanted another daughter, a little sister for me. They’d prepared for the fine and set up a room. Who knew they’d end up with another son? They couldn’t bring themselves to abort, so they had him. Aren’t second children supposed to be good at reading the room, well-behaved, with high EQ because they have an older sibling keeping them in check? Why did that kid do everything backwards, looking down on everyone, thinking he was so cool and trendy, always causing trouble when he went out.
“When he was in elementary school, he got into a fight and got beaten up. He came crying to me, his big brother, for help. In the end, the other kid had cousins, and I ended up getting beaten up too.
“For a while after that, I was really into urban fantasy novels and modern wuxia stories. I fantasized about having martial arts skills or superpowers myself.
“I did alright in the college entrance exams and got into medical school. I got along well with my roommates. Everyone said I had a good personality, wasn’t petty, was cheerful and optimistic, and generous with money.
“I guess I looked okay. I even had girls chase after me. But at the time I was busy playing games and going to comic conventions, so I didn’t have the energy for dating. Of course, it was also because their looks and personalities weren’t my type.”
After rambling on like this, Franca paused and said, “Apart from worrying about having to do hard labor in the future, I had no regrets, nothing I wanted to change…”
Lumian turned his head to look at Franca and saw that as she leaned against the back of the sofa, her eyes were vacant, unfocused, with glistening tears silently sliding down her face.
Lumian didn’t try to comfort Franca with words. He simply extended his left arm and quietly put it around her left shoulder, letting her lean against him.
Franca instinctively struggled for a moment, but quickly chose to give in.
Leaning against Lumian, she continued talking to herself, “I had originally planned to practice driving my mom’s car during the holidays, find a chance to meet up with some online friends in Shanghai, and have fun for a week…
“I’d planned which games to buy recently, planned to visit my grandparents, planned to play games with my dad for two hours every day when I had time, to show him what real skill looks like…
“I’d even planned how to educate that little brat, planned to go to my mom’s mahjong place for a few days to act like a filial son, serve tea and water, and accept tips…”
As she spoke, Franca’s voice gradually lowered until it disappeared.
Lumian waited a few minutes before lowering his head to see that Franca had closed her eyes and fallen into a deep sleep, leaning against him from his left shoulder to his left chest. Her legs had slid off the sofa at some point.
Lumian didn’t move. He stared at the dark LCD TV screen, his thoughts gradually wandering.
After an unknown amount of time, Franca seemed to have a nightmare. Her eyes flew open and she suddenly straightened her back.
She looked left and right, finally coming to her senses and remembering what had happened last night.
Phew… She exhaled slowly and asked Lumian, “What time is it?”
“A little after 4 am, not quite 5 yet,” Lumian calmly replied.
Franca made a sound of acknowledgment, then suddenly remembered something.
“Will Jenna and Luo Shan be okay alone in Room 2303?”
The current Jenna was purely a dream manifestation, while Luo Shan was being watched by unknown forces!
“I’ve been monitoring Room 2303 using mirrors,” Lumian said calmly.
Only then did Franca relax.
She wriggled her shoulders, shaking off Lumian’s arm, and sat up straight.
“Damn, I actually cried earlier, and you saw it… A real man shouldn’t shed tears so easily!”
“Only because the saddest part hasn’t come yet,” Lumian replied.
Hearing this, both Franca and he fell silent.
“That’s such a hurtful thing to say…” After a few seconds, Franca grumbled, “I can’t believe you could respond so smoothly.”
“After learning the truth about transmigration and resonating with your emotions, Aurore’s soul fragment seems to have become a bit more active…” Lumian said with a hint of joy.
Franca bit her lip, unable to speak.
She then began rubbing her cheeks. “I can’t continue in that state. We need to get down to business!”
“What business?” Lumian asked.
Franca thought for a few seconds and said, “According to what you said before, tonight’s events seem to have been arranged, presumably pushed by Peng Deng’s roommate Grisha behind the scenes.
“If this is true, what was their goal? It couldn’t have been just to force me to advance in the dream and quickly find a way to digest the Despair potion, could it?
“Is it simply good people doing good deeds?”
Lumian understood that Franca was trying to distract herself from her inner sorrow and despair by focusing on important matters, so he nodded cooperatively:
“From Luo Shan’s feedback, Zhou Mingrui wasn’t additionally affected by this incident either. He only confirmed that he has some special qualities and that there are major issues with the underground area of Mushu Hospital.
“The illusory abyss in the underground area of Mushu Hospital also hid itself in time, avoiding an encounter with Zhou Mingrui, and remained almost intact.
“Was the real purpose to have me use the corpse wax candle and complete a secret deed at the bottom of Mushu Hospital?
“And for us to find important intelligence through those psychological traumas in the underground area of Mushu Hospital?”
Franca nodded slowly.
“Yes, I can now almost confirm one thing:
“Mr. Fool is also a transmigrator, like me and Emperor Roselle.”
As she spoke, Franca suddenly gave a self-mocking laugh.
“No, not a transmigrator, an ancient person.”
“You mean those three empty ‘cocoons’ correspond to the three previous transmigrators?” Lumian understood what Franca was saying.
“Yes, Ancient Sun God, Emperor Roselle, and Mr. Fool,” Franca elaborated. “Mr. Fool should have also progressed step by step from a mortal body to become a true god and then a great existence. Klein Moretti, Sherlock Moriarty, Gehrman Sparrow—these are probably not his incarnations, but different identities at different stages of his growth. These names all come from the entertainment works of our world, no, the ancient world. Utopia too.
“Well, the identity of Gehrman Sparrow became the Angel of Redemption, with people believing in and worshiping him, perhaps making him quite different from the other identities.”
Lumian mused aloud, “So Zhou Mingrui is Mr. Fool’s real name, his identity before transmigration?”
“It should be so,” Franca shared her speculation. “That’s why Zhou Mingrui is the core of the dream, the subconscious self-image of Mr. Fool. All important dream images are distributed around him, while identities like Sherlock Moriarty are scattered throughout the dream city, lacking special significance.
“The only one among them that’s different is Gehrman Sparrow, who is widely believed in. The dream city originally didn’t have such a manifestation, not even a story. It was entirely created out of thin air by Madam Magician, Madam Justice, and the others, becoming a classic character.”
“This also indicates that The World Gehrman Sparrow might indeed have special symbolism or significance.”
Lumian pondered for a moment and said, “The identity of Klein Moretti is also very special. It doesn’t exist in the dream city either.”
Franca tried to put herself in that position and said slowly, “The personal relationships corresponding to Klein Moretti do exist in the dream city, but they point to Zhou Mingrui.
“Klein Moretti was Mr. Fool’s first identity after transmigration, gaining his recognition. Did their self-perceptions merge?
“So, Zhou Mingrui is also Klein Moretti, and Klein Moretti is equally Zhou Mingrui, indistinguishable from each other.”
“That explanation does make sense,” Lumian agreed with Franca’s guess.
At this moment, Franca suddenly furrowed her brow.
“Bring out that whiteboard, the one with photos of important figures in the dream city and observation results.”
Without asking why, Lumian took out the whiteboard made of frost and placed it opposite the coffee table.
Franca stared at the photos, sketches, introductions, and observation results on the whiteboard, her eyes constantly moving left and right.
After a while, she spoke in a grave tone, “If Mr. Fool is indeed a transmigrator, these dream manifestations hide a big problem.”
Without waiting for Lumian to respond, Franca explained, “Except for Peng Deng and Zhang Yujia, the childhood friend who only sent back postcards, all the important dream manifestations here have nothing to do with ‘Zhou Mingrui.’
“They all come from Klein Moretti, from Sherlock Moriarty, from Gehrman Sparrow and Mr. Fool’s other identities, from the current world. Not a single one originates from before the transmigration, not one is an ancient person!
“Why is that?”