Chapter 9: Setting Nine

Setting Nine: Toy Town (Part 5)

For an instant, time and space seemed to freeze like a frame of film. The surrounding noise died completely—a silence so deep it was almost dead.

Shan Ziwei hurriedly looked behind him. The dolls that had been bustling about and introducing themselves just moments ago gave him a strange glance, then retreated like an ebbing tide—silently and quickly crawling back into their boxes before he could stop them.

Had he just raised a really terrifying flag?

Shan Ziwei stepped back a few paces and looked up in alarm. The beautiful youth sitting above remained still and expressionless, his black-sclera, white-iris eyes fixed unblinkingly on Shan Ziwei—so eerily that it made his heart race.

[You chose me?]

Shan Ziwei watched the text appear on the display screen, one character after another, and was dumbfounded.

Wait—this development didn’t seem right. Wasn’t Gaia the boss here? Could it actually… be chosen?

In Shan Ziwei’s stunned gaze, the youth finally made a larger move. He braced his hands on the display screen, pushed off slightly, and leaped down toward Shan Ziwei.

His wide sleeves fluttered in the air like a dancing black butterfly. Watching the figure about to land on the ground, Shan Ziwei reflexively reached out to catch him—at that moment, he even forgot about his condition, driven solely by a sense of mission to prevent a priceless vase from shattering.

Thump.

What met his hands was softness, as light as catching a feather. Amid the cascading silver-gray hair, Gaia’s delicate face was right before him. The originally expressionless mask on its head had somehow turned into a smiling one, radiating a hypnotic charm that was impossible to look away from.

[I am your toy.]

After that line appeared, the entire display screen—and the room itself—went dark, as if someone had cut the power.

[Toy Box system unlocked.]

[Congratulations on clearing the Chessboard. When you leave the Chessboard, all settings will be reset. The system will send a settlement report to your Toy Box.]

[This concludes the newbie tutorial. If you have any questions, you may consult your Toy Box. Enjoy the game.]

The system’s successive prompts snapped Shan Ziwei back to his senses. He was now back in the black-and-white grid room where he’d first logged in. The panels in his vision and all his equipment were gone—and in his hands was…

Shan Ziwei blinked, then blinked again. In that moment, his heart was practically in collapse.

He had actually brought out a… a… Shan Ziwei couldn’t find any word to describe the figure in his hands. In any case, he seemed to have smuggled out something very, very significant.

In Shan Ziwei’s hands was a miniature “Gaia”—a doll in silver hair and black robes. Perhaps because of the size reduction, the robes looked even more oversized, with long sleeves dangling beside it, swaying gently. It lay quietly in Shan Ziwei’s grasp. When it noticed him looking, it raised a hand hidden under its sleeve and opened its mouth wide—ahhh—as if to bite.

“!”

Shan Ziwei startled and loosened his grip. The tiny Gaia fell to the ground with a soft plop. It picked itself up, its delicate face expressionless, but the mask on its head had turned into a crying face.

Shan Ziwei clutched his chest: Wh-why did he feel like he was bullying a small animal?!

Little Gaia opened its mouth again, and Shan Ziwei watched as it pulled a rolled-up parchment out of its mouth and held it up high.

Carefully, Shan Ziwei took the parchment and, under the gaze of those demonic eyes, unrolled it.

[Settlement Report
Chessboard: Toy Town
Clear Rating: B
Experience Gained: 35/100
Chessboard Clear Reward: Setting Card x1]

Shan Ziwei was shocked—after hours of play, with double experience bonus, he still hadn’t! Leveled! Up! Not even once!

How hard was this game to play?! Shan Ziwei couldn’t help complaining internally. What he didn’t know was that even though Role-Play had been running for two months, the highest level in the game was only 14—not even 20.

Shan Ziwei flipped the parchment over. He’d noticed when he opened it that both sides had writing. Unlike the formal report on the front, the back was written in an elegant calligraphic script—like someone’s afterthoughts after reading a masterpiece.

[Toys are objects meant to be “played” with.

If no one plays with them, they can’t be called “toys” at all.

That’s even scarier than being broken—it fundamentally negates their reason for existing.

So, if you don’t play with me, I have no reason to exist in this world.

How frightening. Truly frightening.

In order to exist in this world, I will make sure you keep playing with me.

Your hands need only touch me. Your eyes need only look at me. Your whole life need only be spent playing with me.

As for everything else—don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.

It’s fine. No thanks needed. Don’t be afraid. This is what a toy should do.]

Gulp.

Shan Ziwei swallowed dryly. There it was again—that suffocating feeling of reading a document brimming with demonic malice, so sinister it made his heart sink.

—I am your toy.

Shan Ziwei reflexively looked toward the “Gaia” across from him, but it was gone. His heart jumped—then he felt something at his leg. Looking down, he saw the silver-haired, black-robed doll had somehow made its way to his feet and was hugging his calf. Its movements were so gentle and silent that by the time he noticed, he’d acquired a very attractive leg ornament.

Seeming to sense Shan Ziwei’s startled gaze, Little Gaia looked up, its black-sclera, white-iris eyes fixed straight on him. It tilted its head, its small mouth moving to produce a speech bubble.

[?]

It really was a speech bubble—a black-outlined circle with a question mark that floated up to Shan Ziwei’s face, where this particular sufferer instinctively popped it.

The mask on Little Gaia’s head wore an expression of shock and confusion.

#Why did you hurt my speech bubble#

“…”

For some reason, Shan Ziwei felt like laughing. His taut nerves relaxed in an instant. He bent down and picked up the tiny Gaia.

“You’re my Toy Box?”

Little Gaia nodded.

“Are you… Gaia?”

The silver-haired, black-robed doll quietly looked at Shan Ziwei, its pale golden eyes fully reflecting his image. Under his gaze, it shook its head.

Shan Ziwei let out a soft breath—he couldn’t tell if he felt disappointed or something else. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy to get hit by a pie from the sky—the Central Computer that managed the entire Earth, even a tiny avatar of it, becoming a player’s game item was unthinkable.

His Toy Box was probably just a Gaia-like doll. Among the previous group of Toy Boxes, he’d also seen Michael Jackson and Marilyn Monroe dolls. Since it looked so much like the real thing, he’d just call it Little Gaia.

Knowing that the figure in his hands wasn’t that artificial deity, Shan Ziwei relaxed considerably and stopped being so apprehensive.

“Um… what can you do?”

At his question, the Gaia-like doll spat out a long string of speech bubbles. Shan Ziwei read through them carefully and summarized the Toy Box system into a few key points:

1. The Toy Box can store items, with 5 slots currently available;
2. The Toy Box can convert chess pieces into real-world currency;
3. The Toy Box can record Setting Cards the player has used and reproduce them (cost: chess pieces);
4. The Toy Box can randomly draw Setting Cards using chess pieces;
5. The Toy Box can be upgraded, gaining more powerful functions (cost: chess pieces).

In short, the Toy Box was a foodie that was obsessed with chess pieces~

Shan Ziwei looked at his adorable Toy Box and felt a sense of duty to provide for the family.

“Making Setting Cards costs chess pieces, drawing Setting Cards costs chess pieces, upgrading the Toy Box costs chess pieces…” Shan Ziwei counted his current chess pieces and felt a surge of gratitude toward Chiron—this thing really was useful. “The chess pieces in this game can even be exchanged for real currency. Let me see… one Pawn piece is worth 10 yuan… a King piece is worth 1000 yuan?!”

That was insane profit. It was also one of the reasons so many people flocked to Role-Play—with currency exchange, playing the game was essentially work.

“In that case, I’m finally out of zero-asset status. My net worth is at least over a thousand… haaah.”

Shan Ziwei yawned. He glanced up at the Roman clock above—its hour hand was pointing at “V,” meaning he’d been gaming for five hours.

He rubbed his eyes. He felt exhausted—not physically, but mentally.

Role-Play was a game for training mental power. Unlike other full-immersion VR games that were played during restful states like sleep, where hours played equaled hours slept, players in Role-Play consumed enormous energy. Every hour played was like doing continuous exercise for that many hours—and that exercise was mental, far more draining than physical. That’s why the Role-Play manual advised an optimal connection time of 8 hours, with a strict 12-hour limit. Exceeding that would get you kicked out and banned for a week.

Shan Ziwei had played for five hours. Under normal circumstances, he could take on another Chessboard, but he was so tired that he felt he’d fall asleep the moment he closed his eyes. The Role-Play manual stated this was normal—first-timers generally felt this way, like marathon beginners who tired out quickly. It would get better with practice.

Though he wanted to continue exploring the Toy Box system, once he acknowledged his fatigue, it only grew stronger. Shan Ziwei couldn’t hold on any longer. He set Little Gaia down and prepared to log out.

In the moment before leaving the game, Shan Ziwei saw the silver-haired, black-robed doll looking up at him, bidding him a silent farewell.

[Good night]

Back in his own bed, Shan Ziwei didn’t even have time to take off the game device before falling into a deep sleep.

—

In a deep, unseen underground chamber existed an observation room known only to a select few.

Countless streams of blue data cascaded down like a thirty-meter waterfall. Those glowing “0”s and “1”s, viewed from afar, looked like flowing rapids—silent and magnificent.

Directly in front of the data stream stood a raised platform where two observers sat. The older one was asleep at the table, while the younger one nervously and anxiously glanced between the data stream and his sleeping senior.

Ivan felt incredibly fortunate. He thanked his three generations of upright, spotless ancestors, and also thanked the Federation for giving him this opportunity to become an observer of Gaia.

That’s right—what lay before them was Gaia itself.

No matter how many times he saw it, it shook him to the core—such a magnificent miracle, created by human hands.

Though he was still an intern, he would strive to become a true observer. Ivan glanced at the middle-aged man sleeping soundly—and above all, he must never become like Senior John. That was just unprofessional.

“Zzzzz~~”

Ivan looked away in exasperation. He’d better focus on appreciating Gaia’s beauty and not let a pest stain his eyes.

A string of data descended.

At first, Ivan didn’t notice. By the time he realized something was wrong, the entire light screen was flooded with the same data stream—flowing down rapidly and reappearing, over and over in a regular pattern.

Even without any sound, he could feel the data stream’s fervor and joy. Ivan stared at the blue torrent. His skill level wasn’t enough to decipher the meaning of those data at a glance, but he could still sense it—the Gaia across from him was like a child who’d just gotten their most beloved toy, eagerly showing it off to everyone around, declaring that it was theirs.

“Senior, Senior!!!”

Under Ivan’s frantic shaking, John reluctantly woke up.

“Mmph… shut up! Rookie.” John blearily lifted his eyelids. “If you woke me up just because you got overexcited again, I’ll skin you alive. I was having a date with a blonde in my dream!”

“Look at Gaia’s data—!”

Ivan’s voice abruptly cut off. The surrounding data flowed in a complex but orderly manner—no abnormalities whatsoever.

“How could that be?! Just now it was completely different!”

After listening to Ivan’s description, John pulled up the surveillance footage. In the recording, John had been sleeping at the table the whole time. Ivan glanced at him, then stared blankly at the data stream before suddenly panicking and shaking him awake. The key point was—in the surveillance footage, the blue data flowed on as always, without any anomaly.

“Impossible! I clearly saw—clearly saw anomalous data!” Under John’s skeptical gaze, Ivan stammered, “Just now, Gaia’s data stream completely changed!”

“That’s just you seeing things, you idiot!” John slapped Ivan on the head. “I told you to wear goggles! Staring at it with the naked eye—no wonder you’re seeing light hallucinations!”

Ivan rubbed his slapped head. He glanced at the data stream, still feeling a lingering unease.

So it was… just an illusion?