"Parasite?" Falson was quite stunned; he probably hadn't expected to get such an answer.
"Yeah." The voice in his head replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world, even carrying a touch of two parts heartbreak, three parts lancholy, four parts sorrow, and one part nonchalance. The voice echoed layer upon layer, reverberating within Falson's mind. "I was originally just a parasite living carefree in a water glass, until you drank
into your stomach just now. So, I had no choice but to parasitize your body."
For so reason, Falson also beca sorrowful after hearing this. His piano playing took on a tinge of lancholy.
The edges of his vision began to twist and blur. The glow from the restaurant's crystal chandelier diffused outward. The soft yellow halo was replaced by a boundless, surging sea of ink-blue. Before his eyes, a vast ocean seed to appear, with a solitary boat upon it and a gigantic mouth that blotted out the sky.
A salty, fishy sea breeze ruffled his hair. He was standing on a dilapidated, solitary boat that seed incredibly tiny amidst the towering waves. The waves rose and fell violently like colossal, swaying mountain ranges. The sky was a suffocating leaden gray, hanging so low it seed about to crush the sea's surface. That mouth slowly opened, soundlessly, and then heaven and earth turned upside down. The waves transford into waterfalls, carrying him as he plumted from the sky towards that gaping maw...
"Hah..." A sharp, involuntary gasp escaped Falson's throat.
The terrifying illusion before his eyes receded, and the familiar restaurant scene pieced itself back together. The crystal chandelier, the pristine white tablecloths, the quiet figures of the waiters...
But his heart was still pounding madly. Cold sweat instantly soaked through the clothes on his back, clinging icily to his skin.
Shaking his head vigorously, he pulled himself free from that inexplicably sorrowful atmosphere.
Wait, that's not right. He wasn't a parasite, so what was he being sorrowful about?
This realization made sweat slowly seep into his palms.
"Ah, figured it out, did you? I thought you'd really start believing you were an insect." The voice tinged with laughter continued to sound in his mind.
Figured it out... So, what if he hadn't figured it out?
Would he have turned into a real insect?
Looking down at his own hands, Falson's eyes widened in an instant.
Just now, while he was imrsed in that sorrowful mood, he had been almost completely rigid, unable to move.
Yet, his hands had still been playing the piano, showing not a single sign of abnormality.
At most, the music he was playing had changed its tune, no longer the song he originally knew.
It was a rather cheerful tune.
He hadn't had the spare ntal capacity to think about this earlier, but now that he had cald down, he realized his hands had been playing all along as if they had a consciousness of their own, not driven by him personally.
"I'm sorry, dear. I don't know the score for the song you're playing now, so I could only play according to my own ideas." The voice in his head seed sowhat apologetic, as if genuinely sorry for changing soone else's performance plan without permission. "Actually, this is my first ti playing the piano, but it seems I'm quite talented. Hmm... Of course, I also had to combine it with your muscle mory. You're quite talented too."
"You... who are you, exactly?" Falson's eyeballs trembled in their sockets. He forcibly suppressed the tremor in his throat and spoke in a deliberately calm voice.
He tried to relax his hands, not to fight with the entity in his mind controlling his body for control, to avoid provoking it.
This was his first ti encountering supernatural phenona other than his own. He didn't know what to do, but he felt it was better to do less and make fewer mistakes. It was best not to resist.
But his body was stiff with fear, making it difficult to control for a mont.
However, the voice in his head probably didn't care much.
"Who am I, exactly? Hmm... let
think." The voice echoed in his mind, stirring up ripples of reverberation, then suddenly rose in pitch. "Ah, right! I'm actually your 'Golden Finger'. Oh, you probably don't know what that is. You're too backward, likely don't have the concept of a 'Golden Finger'."
"It's the standard cheat, the extraordinary advantage that protagonists in novels have. Understand? A kind of universal wish-granting machine. Specifically here to help you, guide you, make you shine brighter, beco stronger, more omnipotent than you are now!"
"You crave money, don't you? Piles of yur like mountains? No problem. I'll make you richer than nations, make you count money until your hands cramp."
The voice was full of temptation.
Huh... Was that suggesting he beco a banknote counter? That profession had already been phased out.
Regarding the voice in his head, Falson could only associate it with a devil tempting humanity.
He wasn't religious. He didn't believe in the nature gods of the Harvest Church or the God of the Divine Lord Church.
But the angels of Heaven and the devils of Hell, even an "outsider" like him had heard of them.
Moreover, he wasn't a simple atheist. In the context of this era, even if the extraordinary hid behind the scenes, it was hard to be a true atheist.
Falson didn't answer, just subconsciously pursed his lips.
Clearly, Falson didn't believe this explanation. He preferred to imagine it as a devil's thod of tempting human hearts.
"You don't believe ?" The voice keenly caught his emotions, instantly switching its tone. The earlier enthusiasm receded like a tide, replaced by a low, sowhat "hurt" and "world-weary" tone. "Alright, alright. Actually, I'm just a passing lonely ghost. The original
suffered so rather severe trauma, encountered a horrific... hmm, accident? Conspiracy? Anyway, I suffered wounds that are hard to heal, my body completely turned to ashes and vanished. I lost my body, only my soul remains. I need a host to recover slowly."
Falson opened his mouth, then quickly closed it, wanting to speak but stopping himself.
He still didn't believe a single word.
"You still don't believe ? I see, seems the reasons I made up weren't that good." The voice continued talking to itself. "Hmm... then how about this? Let's tell the truth. Actually, I'm just a passing Law Seeker. I thought you looked fun, so, on a whim, I parasitized you. No other aning, just purely for fun, to relieve boredom. When I get tired of playing, I'll leave."
Law Seeker? What's that?
A flash of confusion passed through Falson's mind.
"Still don't believe ? Then there's nothing I can do. Hmm, what kind of backstory version would you like to hear? How about an evil old grandpa trying to seize a young person's body?"
"No, actually, that's not good." Falson felt a bit embarrassed. But for so reason, listening to this speaking voice in his head, his mood slowly eased, no longer tense, no longer fearful.
Although he clearly knew he should be wary of this voice of unknown origin, he just couldn't feel afraid anymore.
That voice seed to possess a certain magic...
That made it even more like a devil.
Hesitating for a mont, he tentatively said, "Then... let's go back to the first version."
"Oh, of course. Clients always like to go back to the first version after multiple revisions. Making up stories is actually quite hard for ." The voice beca a bit dejected. "Really, aren't you willing to respect my labor at all?"
"No, I just... at least the last one is a no-go..." Falson hesitated, deciding to skip this topic. "Sir, how should I address you?"
"Ah, so easily teased." The voice instantly returned to normal, resuming the slightly amused tone from the beginning. "You... call
'System'. Yes, I am your System. Look, I can even show you your panel."
As it spoke, a semi-transparent blue light screen appeared before Falson's eyes. On it was his headshot, along with his na, gender, age, height, and weight.
"Sys... tem?" Falson repeated the transliterated word in confusion.
"You don't know? Tsk, the entertainnt in this world is truly lacking. Fine, I've decided. From now on, I am the Literary Plagiarism System. You need money, right? Then you'll copy novels to make money. Here, I'll stuff 100 books into this panel right now. You look at them yourself."
"Co on, click the lower left corner, read them all in one go straight to the grand finale."
Falson subconsciously followed the voice's instruction, looking towards the lower left corner of his vision.
*Battle Through the Heavens*, *Droll Continent*, *Lord of Mysteries*...
"As long as you copy all these books into this world, believe , you'll beco rich enough."
"See? I told you I'm your Golden Finger. Whatever you need, I can bring it to you." The voice imdiately followed up, its tone relaxed and self-satisfied.
It seed quite pleased with the "Golden Finger" concept it had thrown out, even though Falson was still completely in the dark about it.
Although he hadn't imdiately grasped what "Golden Finger" and "System" ant, this world did have "novels." Combining the current scene and the literal aning, Falson could roughly guess a vague concept.
This left him montarily bewildered, at a loss.
He had also fantasized before, fantasized that he was different from others, fantasized that one day he could surpass everyone.
After all, he truly did have sothing extraordinary about him.
But reality had dealt him quite a blow.
He was past the age of fantasy now, and what was happening clearly wasn't exactly like his past fantasies either.
At the very least, in his own past fantasies, there wouldn't be soone drilling into his brain, and he wouldn't have his body controlled.
This sudden situation had only thrown him into a panic for less than half a minute. He was almost completely calm now.
Although there was still so unease in his heart, simple conversation wasn't a problem.
"Why ?" He took a deep breath, then opened his mouth to ask the question.
The lingering slls in the restaurant—a mix of food aromas, expensive perfus, and the scent of wooden piano lacquer—rushed into his nostrils. This familiar scent acted like an anchor, briefly pulling him back to reality.
A brief silence spread within his cranium, with only the cheerful piano music continuing to play.
"Probably because of your talent." The voice in his head wasn't very sure itself. "I think I was probably attracted by that inexplicable pull you have."
Never before had Falson been so troubled by his own talent as he was today.
But he quickly cald down again.
"Is that so..."
"Mhm, psychological resilience is quite good. Excellent, keep it up."
"......"
"Thank you..."
He was praised, but he wasn't sure if he should feel honored.
"Alright, I won't demand your soul."
"Relax a bit."
Now he was even more scared...
…………
Andrew Street.
This was a comrcial street with a considerable number of shops.
After leaving the Flora restaurant, Samuel imdiately relaxed his posture and walked into this comrcial street.
His steps were light and brisk, joyful at having found a new toy.
"Encountering such a good thing on the first day of transmigration. Indeed, people who smile often have good luck." Samuel humd a tune as he walked forward.
He really needed to laugh more.
Not needing to actively control Celt's body allowed him to allocate more emotional energy to controlling that strand of hair inside Falson's body.
Though that could probably no longer be called a strand of hair. It had fused with Falson's body, completing a further stage of parasitism.
That body was originally created by him using Illusion Magic. Naturally, he could re-edit it, turning it into pure "emotion" and integrating it deep into Falson's consciousness.
He called this: "The Lunatic Cultivation Plan."
In his left hand, *The Lunatic's World Travel Guide* was slightly open, displaying so questions he had discussed with the Travel Guide.
"Why do the extraordinary individuals of this world hide behind the scenes?" This was his question. Since it was spoken, it wasn't displayed on the Travel Guide.
However, the answer was written in the book.
He already had so guesses, approaching the question with an answer in mind, and *The Lunatic's World Travel Guide*'s reply indeed didn't surprise him.
"Because this world's extraordinary system is quite special."
"Even the lowest-level Law Seekers derive their power from their own hearts."
"The more resolute they are, the stronger they beco."
"However, if they are only at the Law Seeker stage, there's actually no problem."
"But once they reach the Law Contemplator stage, problems begin to arise."
"The thoughts of Law Contemplators often start to beco radical, extre. Without proper guidance, it's quite easy for them to go down the wrong path."
"This is precisely why lunatics are everywhere in this world."
"Because by the Law Contemplator stage, there are no normal people left."
"I see." Samuel nodded pleasantly, multitasking by chatting with Falson while gently flipping through the travel notes. "So, that ans if I can push Falson to beco a Law Contemplator, I can personally witness the birth of a lunatic, right?"
"I'm really... quite looking forward to it."
His fingers lightly brushed over the book's pages. "Alright, tell , how do I make him beco a Law Seeker? And how do I make him beco a Law Contemplator? Can I just brainwash him directly?"
"According to records, the Orlis Institute has done similar experints. Unfortunately, the experints failed." The travel notes replied. "The Law seems to only acknowledge lunatics who co from genuine inner conviction. Artificial ones... don't work."
"Is that so? That's great." Samuel nodded happily. "After all, I could create a whole city of lunatics from direct brainwashing in a few seconds. Mass-produced things have no value."
"This way, my 'Lunatic Cultivation Plan' has aning."
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