In somatosensory mode, Yilan actually didn't want to take revenge on Nilou.
From the perspective of an observer, he didn't think she had done anything wrong.
At most, she wasn't very good at expressing herself and often failed to read the room.
But now Nilou was the one coming to him for help. That alone made Yilan's expression turn cold.
He wasn't the kind of man to fawn over a pretty face just because she waved at him. He wasn't that cheap.
And most importantly—he and Nilou had clearly fallen out long ago.
Nilou had known that Yilan liked her, yet she had rejected his courtship without hesitation.
She had known how much he had given for her over the years—so much that she herself had no idea how to repay him.
And now, even after all that, she had the nerve to come to him asking for help.
What was this?
Did she see him as a spare tire? Someone to use when in trouble?
Not just the simulated Yilan—even the real Yilan, immersed in somatosensory mode, couldn't help but feel a twinge of anger.
"Of course I can help you with your problem,"
Yilan said coldly.
"But how exactly do you plan to repay me? I recall you said once that you had no way to return the favor… or are you just here to use me again?"
"Please don't talk to me like that. Yilan, you shouldn't be like this…"
"Don't play the emotional card with me!"
Nilou's soft protest was mercilessly cut off.
Yilan, already affected by the emotions from the simulation, was in a foul mood. Her behavior at this moment only made it worse.
His usual gentle demeanor faded as he said with icy detachment:
"Miss Nilou, let's be clear—we're making a deal now. You want me to resolve the trouble your troupe is facing. That's fine. But what price are you willing to pay?"
"Anything, as long as it's within my ability!" Nilou said, her voice firm.
"Anything?" Yilan's lips curved in a mocking smile. "Miss Nilou, don't say things you can't take back. For example… would you be willing even to that extent?"
Nilou's lake-blue eyes widened, then softened.
"I'm sorry. I don't know why, but I must have said something very hurtful before. I apologize."
Then, as if resolving herself, she clasped her hands to her chest and said gently:
"If this is how I can repay you for all you've done… then I'm willing."
Yilan remained unmoved.
That's just how people are. Once a fixed impression forms, it's hard to change.
He simply saw her as acting.
But when Nilou really crouched beneath his desk, a wave of anger welled up in his chest.
"If someone threatened you using the theater and offered this kind of deal, would you accept it?!"
"Of course not—"
Nilou looked as though she'd been insulted, but before she could finish, her voice caught in her throat.
——
"Nilou!"
"Nilou!"
A loud voice came from outside, and then the door to Yilan's study was pushed open.
Yilan, sitting with a book in hand, frowned. This was the second time someone had barged in.
He was seriously considering setting up wards or defensive mechanisms around his villa.
"Sheikh Zubayr of Zubayr Theater, correct?" Yilan tapped the desk, voice cold. "Do you know that trespassing on private property is grounds for arrest? I could have the guards drag you to jail right now."
"Cut the act. I've asked around—Nilou came here. Where is she?"
Because Yilan had previously entered Nilou's dressing room and set up a barrier to prevent others from following, the troupe already had a bad impression of him.
"As a citizen of the City of Wisdom, you should learn to see with your own eyes and think with your brain, instead of acting on hearsay. Guard, remove him—"
Yilan paused briefly, then corrected himself:
"—Get him out of here."
The guards, who'd been idling and playing games in Azar's bedroom earlier, responded to Yilan's command through the Void Terminal and blasted Zubayr out.
Moments later, Yilan put down the book. Nilou slowly stood up from under the desk.
She glared at Yilan. In her lake-blue eyes, there was an unexpected trace of allure—one even she didn't seem to notice.
"Is this enough of a price to pay?"
"…"
For some reason, Yilan suddenly felt hollow.
Even with the memory of the simulated world flooding his mind, he wasn't as excited as he thought he'd be.
He waved his hand.
"Go. I'll handle the problem with the troupe's plotline."
But Nilou didn't leave immediately. She looked at him expectantly.
"Will you come to watch me dance again in the future?"
"Let's talk about that later."
And with that, Yilan turned away, letting her leave on her own.
——
"Have I… fallen a little?"
After Nilou left, Yilan began to reflect.
Though his thoughts were undoubtedly colored by the simulator's emotional influence, he knew the decisions were still his.
"Never mind."
He quickly decided not to dwell on it.
After all, this simulation seemed headed for failure. Failed simulation copies wouldn't be superimposed onto reality.
If the outcome was doomed anyway, then what harm was there in being a little reckless within this simulated world?
He had even considered controlling Azar to release Nahida directly.
But freeing the Dendro Archon wasn't something Azar alone could accomplish—he'd need a majority vote from the Grand Sage Council.
His somatosensory session would last no more than a day, and that wasn't nearly enough time to persuade over half the sages.
And even if Nahida were freed, she would still need to prove her capability before anyone could accept her authority.
Otherwise, the scholars might resist her leadership—and in that case, the mission might be deemed incomplete or receive a low evaluation.
Yilan leaned back in his chair, already contemplating his next move in the upcoming simulation.
***
PS: There will be a more reasonable explanation later about why Nilou acted this way. I'll do my best not to damage her character. Or so the Author claims.
***
[At age 17, you didn't bother Nilou again. Maybe you still had a shred of conscience—unwilling to tarnish the beautiful image of her that existed in your heart.]
[But your indifference didn't keep Nilou away. She came often—sometimes to ask for help with minor issues, sometimes just to invite you to watch her dance.]
[This woman… does she not know modesty? Does she not know shame?]
[Every time she comes, she knows she must "pay a price." She's been teased, humiliated—yet she still smiles. Why?]
[Does she think it's okay to offer herself to a man like this?]
[You don't know why, but when you see her smiling at you, a surge of irritation rises. You stop seeing her.]
[Zubayr Theater seems to have sensed something off between you and Nilou—but what can they do? You've already taken control of Azar, and by extension, the entire Akademiya.]
[But as time passes, you begin to feel empty. You've finally gained freedom—yet have no idea what to do with it.]
[At that moment, the Fatui of Snezhnaya returned to Sumeru, proposing once more the project of god creation. This time, they brought two Harbingers: Sandrone and the Doctor.]
[You had no interest in god creation.]
[A voice in your head urged you to resist—but why should you help the imprisoned Dendro Archon?]
[She was the God of Sumeru. But during your darkest childhood moments, did she ever come to save you?]
[A god who could be imprisoned by mortals didn't deserve worship. So what if she were replaced?]
[You manipulated Azar to begin negotiations with the Fatui. But the man called "the Doctor" saw through you instantly. He left behind a secret code, inviting you to meet in secret.]
That night, you met him.
He was intrigued by your story. He admired you—and you admired his genius. A partnership was born.
"Well then," Yilan muttered, "I may as well mix myself up with the Doctor."
He was curious—what kind of person would he become in this simulation? Would he join the Fatui?
[At age 18, in January, the god-making project was led by three people: you, Sandrone, and the Doctor.]
[Sandrone disliked you from the start. You didn't care. He was just a tool for experimentation. What did it matter?]
[You and the Doctor collaborated on transforming the test subject's body. Through your many academic exchanges, he generously passed on vast knowledge.]
[You realized much of this knowledge was dangerous—easy to misuse.]
[It was clear he had an ulterior motive: to corrupt you, make you like him.]
[But you didn't care. There was nothing you valued anymore. Your heart was hollow—only knowledge could fill it.]
[By age 18 and three months, your god-making plan advanced. You needed to inject massive amounts of canned knowledge into the subject's brain to elevate it to godhood.]
[But then something made you hesitate: to obtain "divine wisdom," you had to extract it from the minds of mad scholars.]
[You hated your biological parents for abandoning you, your adoptive father for exploiting you, Nilou for toying with your emotions, and the citizens of Sumeru for worshiping a fraud like Azar.]
[You didn't know where you were headed—but you didn't want to become the kind of person you despised.]
[Azar had once wanted to extract your knowledge to create a god. If you did the same to others, weren't you just becoming him?]
[The Doctor said they could handle it, but to you, that was no different from turning a blind eye to evil.]
You felt lost. You lit the incense.
It was said that those of great intellect could meditate and see the World Tree—perhaps even commune with gods.
Your adoptive father forbade you from doing it, fearing you'd go mad like the scholars.
But now? Madness didn't seem so bad. It might free you from restraint.
When you opened your eyes, a small girl stood before you.
"Finally… I see you again," she said, voice filled with relief.
You were clever. From the sound of her voice, you immediately understood.
"You're the Little Lucky Grass King? You were the one who told me stories in my dreams as a child?
So what now—you're here to stop my god-making plan? Afraid I'll replace you?"
If so, you would have laughed.
You had no sympathy left.
At most, you wouldn't make things hard for the old god once the new one was born—out of old sentiment.
—At least, that was how it should've gone.
"No… actually, this is the first I've heard of your god-making plan," she said softly.
"So even Sumeru's god has lost faith in me," she murmured, lowering her silver-haired head in sadness.
But then she looked up again, her tone clear and resolute:
"I came here for another reason."
"What is it?" you asked.
"Though my body is imprisoned in the Sanctuary of Surasthana, my consciousness can still travel through the Void Terminal," Nahida explained.
"So that's why I stopped hearing your voice—because I modified the terminal and shut out all outside access?" you asked, resting your chin on your hand.
Nahida nodded.
"When traveling through the terminal, I met a girl. A very sad girl. I spoke with her… and copied her memories.
I think you should see them."
As she spoke, a glowing green orb floated from her fingertips.
Your instincts screamed not to touch it.
If you did, everything you'd held onto—your logic, your detachment—might unravel.
But your hands trembled as you reached out… and seized the memory.