Reality. A workshop in so unknown city.
Wang Weijin woke up, slumped over his lab bench. The instant his eyes opened, he dropped his gaze, tilting his head down to hide his expression in shadow.
He quickly surveyed his surroundings, then moved with practiced ease to the water station beside the bench, poured a glass, and brewed a cup of coffee at exactly 85 degrees Celsius.
This was his habitual ritual after every trial. Once the coffee was finished, he'd debrief the entire trial, then sort and categorize any materials and lab notes he'd acquired, continuing his research.
He perford it all with impeccable order — until his neighbor, a fellow Truth believer, rapped on the workshop's thick wall again and pressed one eye against the small peephole between them.
This was the "communication device" these two mutually distrustful neighbors had jointly constructed to discuss Truth.
The hole was angled — enough to neutralize certain ballistic weapons. Both ends were fitted with blast-resistant laminated glass, courtesy of Tower of Logic techniques. The airtight seal was perfectly sufficient to block gas attacks from the other side.
This narrow little hole served as the friendly conduit between two Truth believers. After every notable trial, they'd lean against their respective walls and have a brief academic exchange.
Of course, Wang Weijin's contributions were genuinely academic. But the female neighbor on the other side — yes, female — always seed to harbor ulterior motives.
She constantly probed every aspect of Wang Weijin's life, clearly eager to insert herself into it. But the Doctor remained unmoved.
And now it was ti for another exchange.
A sultry female voice drifted through the wall. Even distorted by the barrier into sothing deep and humming, certain tones alone painted a picture of an intensely alluring woman.
Wang Weijin carried his coffee to the wall and knocked twice to signal his arrival. The other side imdiately stirred.
"Drinking your 75-degree coffee again? Mister Wang, are you ever going to change?"
Wang Weijin's lips curved with the faintest scoff, though his tone remained flat: "It's 85 degrees. That's the optimal temperature balancing instant dissolution and cooling ti."
"I always feel like you waste your Truth mastery on mundane life. Never mind — whatever makes you happy. How was the trial?
You sound energetic. Still ready for more. Must not have been difficult?"
Wang Weijin smiled again. But his replies were always strangely deadpan.
"Not too difficult. A ho-turf Truth trial. Happened to get placed in Tusnat. t Grand Scholar Selius — the one who specializes in slice experints."
"Oh?" The voice on the other side was distinctly surprised. After a beat: "Selius? How'd it go — did you get his manuscripts?"
"It's not that simple. I couldn't even confirm whether the one I t was a slice."
Silence from the other side. Then, eventually: "I'm rather well-versed in this. Generally speaking, the earlier experint-stage ones are slices. But the later ones... as they gradually awaken their own consciousness and believe they can break free from the original — most of them can no longer be considered slices. Would you agree?"
Wang Weijin's smile vanished. A flicker of mockery crossed his eyes. His head dipped even lower.
"Yes and no."
"Oh? You have a different take?" The voice beyond the wall laughed. "Do tell. Knowledge should circulate."
"I say 'yes' because most slices currently exist in that state. On the whole, your assessnt is correct.
But 'no' because... so slices, even after developing their own consciousness, may not want to do anything drastic. They've sprouted autonomous will — but they won't cause any damage or disruption to the normal experint or the so-called original."
Another silence. Then booming laughter rang through the wall.
"Sounds like your trial was fascinating, Doctor. Tell
— if I were a slice, which would I choose?"
A sharp glint flashed through Wang Weijin's eyes. His tone remained cold:
"I don't know you. But I know myself. If I were a slice, I'd probably be the second type."
"Really? Then I'd be the first."
More raucous laughter from the other side. Wang Weijin shook his head: "I need to start my debrief. Busy day ahead."
"Good luck, Doctor. I like you more and more."
Through the wall: a creature both young and ancient leaned in a corner. It raised one withered, branch-like arm and touched its own Adam's apple, then picked up a tablet and studied the monitor feed of Wang Weijin working at his desk. A sound escaped its throat — a wheezing, rattling "heh-heh" that made skin crawl.
"Heh-heh... Clever ones tend not to die so quickly."
With that, the creature glanced forward. On the floor of its laboratory lay the corpse of a bespectacled doctor.
The creature tossed the tablet aside and pocketed a golden poker card — one bearing the imprint of a Silence closed-eye mask. Then it found a lab ledger, and next to a na reading "Wang Weijin," added another half-checkmark.
"Still room for observation. No rush to replace him.
Even consumables should be conserved."
It shuffled its body — half bloated, half emaciated — toward another section of the laboratory.
And at that very mont, in the room next door, Wang Weijin — seemingly imrsed in his debrief — let a sharp gleam flash through his eyes. He slid his chair back half an inch, then used his pen like a blade and sliced open his own scarred chest. From that mangled, blood-raw cavity, he slowly extracted... a mask!
That's right — a Deceit mask!
It was this mask's presence that had allowed him to perfectly conceal his true thoughts during the exchange monts ago.
As for how he'd gotten it...
The answer was chilling. After the trial ended, the Doctor hadn't returned to his rest area. Instead, a mysterious force had pulled him into the Void — to an audience with a deity he'd never dread of eting!
Deceit!
Those star-scattered, spiral-spinning eyes had summoned him in the Void above. Without preamble, They bestowed a mask upon him.
"Interesting. Today's performance earned you this mask."
Wang Weijin was stunned. He wanted to refuse. And he offered his reason quite "diplomatically": "I... only wish to draw closer to Truth."
"Tch—"
His conviction and devotion earned nothing but a scoff. Those mocking eyes regarded him with amusent, dismissing his refusal entirely:
"You don't even know what Truth wants, yet you have the gall to claim you only wish to approach Him?
Human — you don't actually think your fingernail-sized intellect can fool , do you?"
"..." Wang Weijin shut his mouth. In his first-ever divine audience, he finally realized this was neither the place for bargaining nor for correcting anyone. Cold sweat erupted instantly.
"Whether Truth is the truth — I don't know. But I do know that in all this universe, the only one who knows what truth really is... is .
Only by taking up this mask do you have any chance of approaching the real truth."
Hearing this — even though the speaker bore the divine na Deceit — Wang Weijin gripped the mask in his hand with all his might.
"Rember: the mask is for you. If you die, don't expect the next you to receive one.
Now get lost. You little pen of a bigger pen — looking at you gives
a headache."
A gale roared through the Void, driving the mask into Wang Weijin's chest before letting him plumt back to reality.
Now, having extracted the mask once more, Wang Weijin stored it in his spatial inventory, then cleaned the blood from his body with a furrowed brow.
Truth hadn't rejected Deceit's secondary faith. Could Deceit have been telling the truth?
Drawing closer to Void — and to Him — was that the real truth?
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