Doomsday Wonderland

Lin Sanjiu slid down the back of the leather couch, half-collapsing into the seat and letting out a long breath.

She'd been in Cloudwalk Heights for less than two days, yet she'd already encountered more crises than most would see in a year. The moment she sank into the couch, knowing she had a brief chance to catch her breath, she nearly melted into the embrace of exhaustion.

1

Unfortunately, she couldn't rest yet because this couch wasn't on Exodus.

"How many of you are there?" A waitress in an apron approached immediately, pen and order pad at the ready. "Would you like to order something?"

Lin Sanjiu looked up at her, feeling a bit dazed.

Just as the café's advertisements promised, its theme was nostalgia. The owner had supposedly studied pre-doomsday beverage shops and cafés, replicating every detail to recreate the feel of a world where doomsday had never happened. The target clientele was primarily posthumans who remembered the pre-doomsday era, though some curious doomsday-born patrons visited as well.

Naturally, all the staff were ordinary humans. Name tags pinned to their chests, printed menus on the tables, the slightly worn-out sofas, and the magazine rack in the corner. Even a television hung above the bar, broadcasting pre-doomsday news and programs.

Outside the windows, there were no winding sky highways. Instead, ordinary-looking people walked back and forth, carrying briefcases or cups of drinks. The streets behind them bustled with traffic, making it seem like just another normal day in a normal world.

Even the waitress's demeanor was perfectly pre-doomsday. "We have a minimum charge here," she said, tapping her pen against the table in a subtle prompt. "Fifty bucks per table."

Yes, the café had even considered the currency. The exchange rates were posted on the sign outside. Entering this place was like stepping back into the pre-doomsday era. The sign also politely requested that patrons refrain from using Special Items or evolved abilities inside.

"Oh, it's just me," Lin Sanjiu said, her fatigue tangling her tongue and making her voice weak. She glanced at the menu on the table, momentarily feeling like she'd traveled back in time. With a touch of wonder, she read slowly, "I'll have the English afternoon tea pastry platter... with Earl Grey tea? Oh, no milk or sugar."

The waitress, who likely had no idea what "English" or "Earl Grey" meant, nodded confidently, took the payment, and said, "So you like your tea plain. Got it. It'll be right out."

After the waitress left, Lin Sanjiu stared blankly at the empty table for a moment.

Wu Yiliu had managed to slip away, and her effort to help him regain his memories had come to nothing. If he didn't want his memories restored, how could she force him?

Although his retroactive consent was suspicious, Lin Sanjiu noticed one thing: when she viewed him from the outside, as someone else, she felt something others often said about Wu Yiliu. That he lacked human warmth.

If he used to give off that impression, then maybe he hadn't changed much at all. Perhaps something fundamental remained unaltered. Could his decision to accept his altered memories truly represent his real self?

Whether or not Wu Yiliu consented didn't matter for now. After their brief clash, one thing was clear: the Shark Nexus highly valued Pete.

If Wu Yiliu was only trying to retrieve the memory pocket dimension, there was no reason for him to risk going back with Lin Sanjiu. If the Shark Nexus had investigated, they would know that Pete's last location was on her space craft.

Great. There were probably going to be countless others—overt or covert, forceful or deceptive—who would follow her to Exodus.

Come to think of it, she really should have asked Pete one more question: What exactly was the plan that had earned him the Shark Nexus's investment? Why did they treasure him so much?

Whatever it was, it didn't really matter to her. Lin Sanjiu had no intention of giving back the memory pocket dimension, but she didn't care about Pete in the slightest. As long as she could keep Exodus safe and hidden, she would even deliver Pete back personally, though only on her own terms.

She had to make the Shark Nexus understand that she wasn't an easy target. She was a blade, and anyone who touched her would bleed. They could have Pete back, but only if she allowed it, as a show of goodwill. Otherwise, even if they retrieved Pete, they'd still covet the memory pocket dimension, leading to endless trouble.

1

By the time the waitress brought a pot of hot tea, Lin Sanjiu had already devised her plan to deal with the Shark Nexus. When the waitress returned with the afternoon tea pastries, Lin Sanjiu looked up and asked, "Can I make a phone call here?"

She pointed to the communicator on the table, which had been transformed by [The Power of Word Picture] to resemble a phone, though the details weren't entirely accurate.

Phone calls were a perfectly ordinary pre-doomsday activity. The presumably well-trained waitress glanced at the "phone," hesitated for a moment, then smiled and said, "Of course."

This wasn't the first time Lin Sanjiu had taken out the communicator.

On her way here, she had tried countless times. When her memories first returned, she had barely resisted the urge to contact the grand prize immediately. Wu Yiliu had been right beside her, and she feared giving away a clue. ṟÅꞐȏꞖÈṨ

If she had known she'd slip up anyway, she might as well have called grand prize right away.

Now, after hearing the same silence over and over, unable to get through to grand prize, she wondered if it was because of the ten-minute delay.

Frustrated, Lin Sanjiu slapped the communicator and shoved it back into her card inventory.

He had to be okay. There was no way he wasn't. He and Yu Yuan were both Veda; nothing could harm them. She'd seen Yu Yuan's head smashed into eight pieces and still regenerate. Besides, the current grand prize was just a small part of his true self. His real body was safely hidden somewhere in a dark corner of the universe.

The logic was sound, but it didn't explain why she couldn't reach either of them.

Maybe there was a place in Cloudwalk Heights where she could send a message. Perhaps she could leave a note for Yu Yuan and grand prize.

"Send a message?" The café didn't restrict conversation topics to pre-doomsday subjects. The waitress answered enthusiastically, "Of course! There are several systems for that. It depends on your target audience. There are separate systems for posthumans and ordinary people, and a few that work for both. I'll write them down for you."

Lin Sanjiu felt a little more at ease.

Once she received the slip of paper, hunger took over. She grabbed a sandwich and bit off half in one go, surprised by how good it was. The café's offerings were genuinely pre-doomsday: real white bread, tomatoes, lettuce, and even what seemed to be actual beef, not some post-doomsday substitute.

Where did they even get such precious fresh ingredients?

1

Her second bite was smaller and more deliberate, savoring the sandwich's flavor. There were also scones, butter, and cake waiting for her, all looking just as authentic. Even in the Twelve Worlds Centrum, few could afford such an afternoon tea.

That might explain the quiet muttering outside the door.

"Why don't you trust me?" A man hunched over with a communicator pressed to his ear was whispering to someone on the other end, his back to the café entrance. "You told me to follow her, right? Well, she's in a café now, and I have to order something if I go in. The organization will cover the cost, right? The minimum... the minimum charge is two hundred bucks."

3

Lin Sanjiu took a bite of cake, a smile creeping onto her face.

It seemed the next one would be much easier to deal with than Wu Yiliu.

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