I'm Trapped in the Block

Chapter 150: Chapter 148: An Agreement with Myself

Martin was in the research institute, sorting through files while chatting with Zhou Ming, the man who had discovered the dream.

”Mr. Martin, I’ve told you everything I know. Can I go home now?” Zhou Ming asked, still shaken.

”Of course. As the discoverer, we won’t wipe your memory. However, you’ll need to sign a confidentiality agreement and will be placed under our surveillance. This is for your own protection,” Martin replied calmly.

Zhou Ming nodded emphatically. ”Of course. I’ll definitely follow the rules.”

He was about to leave, but he fidgeted in his chair, then hesitated for a moment before asking in a low voice, ”Mr. Martin, is the Dream World real? I learned so many things in the dream that I’d never encountered before.”

Seeing how curious Zhou Ming was, Martin warned him sternly, ”Don’t try to recall this forbidden knowledge, and don’t get lost in fantasies about the Dream World. What you need to do now is go back to your normal life.”

Zhou Ming waved his hands dismissively. ”It wasn’t forbidden knowledge, just the score of a sports game. I’m positive I didn’t know it beforehand, but I watched the game in my dream, and when I woke up, I found the score was exactly the same.”

”Also, I got a girl’s phone number at a bar in the dream. When I got back to the real world, I tried calling it, and it actually connected. And it was her who picked up.”

”And another thing...”

Martin quickly cut him off. ”That’s enough. No matter how real the dream feels, you belong to this world. None of that concerns you.”

’If they had to get to the bottom of every single relic, the institute would’ve run out of manpower long ago. The crises that could truly threaten the world were the ones that needed to be resolved first.’

”But those people felt so real.”

”As I was waking up, I ran into someone whose face I couldn’t make out. I told him I was waking up, and he asked me what layer I was waking up to. And I told him.”

”And then...”

SLAM!

Martin slammed the files down on the table. He told Zhou Ming sternly, ”If you continue, I can deem you corrupted by the relic and request a memory wipe.”

Hearing Martin’s stern, final warning, Zhou Ming scrambled to his feet in fear, apologizing profusely as he pushed the door open and hurried out.

Zhou Ming’s words echoed in Martin’s mind, leaving him unsettled for a long time.

Much later, Martin was still thinking about the relic. Although he paid lip service to not believing the worldview presented by the relics, he couldn’t stop his mind from racing.

’Ever since discovering his own ability, he had begun to doubt the world.’

’As a graduate of a prestigious university, Martin had a firm belief in science, but the existence of relics was constantly shaking his understanding of the world.’

’Why did things like relics even exist?’

’Where did their energy come from?’

’What was the formula that converted a price into an ability?’

’Martin felt that relics were like nails hammered jarringly into the world, completely at odds with its established order.’

’It was as if someone had deliberately placed them here.’

’Like adding a new rule to a normal world, and then letting a new world branch off from that rule.’

’Martin had only ever seen something like that in one place...’

’...in a novel.’

The more Martin thought about it, the more engrossed he became. His eyes fell on a nearby table, where kimchi confiscated from the homes of Dream Realm Sect members was piled up.

The research institute was empty. As if possessed, Martin walked into the infirmary, picked up a small knife, and made a small cut on his finger.

He then lay back in a chair, took a jar of kimchi, placed it behind his head, and recalled the black hole from the flyer...

When he awoke again, Martin found himself still in the institute. His finger was oozing blood. Seeing it drip, he was hit with the sudden realization that he was dreaming.

Walking over to a nearby computer, Martin looked up information he shouldn’t know and found that the Dream World was just as Zhou Ming had described: identical to the real world, right down to the shared knowledge.

He then pulled up the file on the dream relic’s price that he had just compiled. It was precisely listed as ”501 grams of Korean kimchi in a glass jar.”

And the discoverer was listed as ”Zhou Ming.”

Martin quickly spotted the problem. If the Zhou Ming in the real world discovered the dream because he returned to the 500-gram layer, then why in *this* layer was there another Zhou Ming who had also discovered the dream?

’Could there be two Zhou Mings?’

’And on the next layer down, another Zhou Ming?’

”Does that mean... there’s another me here right now?” A chill ran down Martin’s spine.

’Martin suddenly realized his understanding of the dreamscape was far too simplistic. If every layer was identical, then each one should have its own ’Martin’ and ’Zhou Ming.’ So where did they all go?’

”Then what about the ’Sect Leaders’ from the other layers?” Martin found himself asking aloud.

Just then, a familiar voice answered from beside him.

”Dead.”

Hearing the sudden voice, Martin stumbled back, his eyes fixed warily on the figure that had appeared out of nowhere.

Its head was a kimchi jar, and it wore a white lab coat. Its height and build were identical to his own. The figure was standing beside him, watching.

”The Sect Leader is dead. If the one on any single layer dies, they all die.”

Martin stared at the bizarre figure. Before he could even ask a question, the Canned Man spoke:

”I am the Martin from layer 532. It has been three minutes since you arrived here. For us, it’s been three years. I have now fully mastered the ability to traverse the dreamscape, and as per our agreement, I’ve come to pass the torch.”

”The blood-swap formula I am about to give you... memorize it.”

”Prepare the same weight of kimchi required to enter the dream from what you perceive as the ’real world.’ Place it in a ’suitable’ glass jar, add cool water at 17 degrees Celsius, and finally, pour this water into a separate cup.”

”Next, take a sample of your own blood, extract the serum, and add it to the cup.”

”Ten of your own hairs, chopped finely, and add them to the cup.”

”The nail from your right thumb, ground into a powder, and add it to the cup.”

”Three downy hairs from your earlobes—either side will do—and add them to the cup.”

”The skin flaking from the blister that is now on your left heel. Cut it into four pieces with a cross-shaped cut, and add it to the cup.”

”The Dream Realm Sect flyer promoting the black hole. Cut off the four corners, and add them to the cup.”

”...”

”The quantity for all the above ingredients should be an ’appropriate amount.’ Process them using whatever method feels most familiar to you. Once prepared, stir the cool water in the cup until uniform, then heat it to 25 degrees Celsius.”

”Then, inject this water into your own body to complete the blood-swap.”

The Canned Man finished reciting the formula while glancing at his watch. He gave Martin no chance to ask questions, instead instructing him with a meaningful tone:

”Three years from now, at the precise moment you deem ’appropriate,’ travel to the research institute on layer 470 and continue to pass the torch.”

”This is our agreement...”