Chapter 11Most people are better at passive thinking than active thinking. When something happens, they might reflect on it, but before it does, they rarely connect it to anything else.

  Jin was no exception. He knew Kamoshida had a pace, and he understood it was linked to Kamoshida’s desires. But it never occurred to him that other people might have paces too.

  Like his boss, the btant racist, and his family.

  The massive oval structure before him looked like a giant mud-coated football that had been dropped on the ground. The only entrance was a hexagonal door, slick and sticky to the touch, releasing a nauseatingly sweet odor.

  Jin scanned his surroundings. As with Kamoshida’s castle, only the area before him had transformed into something otherworldly.

  Thinking of this, Jin struck without warning, pinching Kasumi’s nose between his index and middle fingers.

  Comics often depict girls with tiny noses, but reality begs to differ. A straight nose is considered beautiful by many, and Kasumi’s was no exception.

  Caught off guard, Kasumi’s voice was muffled. “What are you doing—?”

  “Just testing something.”

  As Jin suspected, the moment Kasumi entered this warped spiritual space, she had transformed from a ghost into a tangible, living person.

  (If this is a cognitive space... does that mean Kasumi Yoshizawa is still considered alive?)

  Jin wasn’t a psychologist, nor had he read Jungian theory. He could only make a rough guess, like a student who writes “solution” on a math test without knowing the actual steps.

  He noticed it when Kasumi’s fingers gripped the iron railing earlier. And now, as he pinched her nose, her breath hitched—proof that she needed to breathe. A ghost wouldn’t react that way.

  Here, in this twisted reality, she was alive.

  Maybe this was what people meant when they said someone “lives on in our hearts.”

  But that wasn’t the point.

  Jin had prepared for this moment.

  He unzipped his backpack, the metallic ctter of its contents echoing. He pulled out a rusted iron pipe, weighing five or six kilograms.

  This was his [weapon].

  After st time, he wasn’t taking any chances.

  Sure, he wanted something stronger—a kitchen knife or, like in some comics, a backpack full of crowbars—but those would invite police scrutiny. If questioned, how could he expin carrying knives and crowbars?

  A water pipe, though? He could cim his home’s plumbing needed fixing.

  Then—

  “Bento?! You’re actually eating a bento in this situation?!”

  Kasumi stared at Jin in disbelief. Had he lost his mind?

  Jin had his reasons. Yesterday, he’d asked Master Liu to prepare a lunchbox just for this.

  He recalled something from a Warcraft novel: a passage describing Jaina eating meat. In the novel, mages suffered mental fatigue after casting spells and needed food to recover.

  Last time, summoning Pixie had drained him. The exhaustion hit hard, likely a mix of mental strain and accumuted fatigue. So today, he had made sure to rest well and eat before heading into danger.

  And beyond that—

  “Kasumi, sit down and eat. I brought a portion for you.”

  “Me? But I can’t eat… ah!”

  She realized it, too.

  Ordinarily, as a ghost, she couldn’t consume food from the living world. But now? She had a body. She could eat.

  Without hesitation, she accepted the bento and devoured it in rge bites.

  Master Liu’s cooking never disappointed. The old man had anticipated the food would be eaten ter, so he’d prepared dishes that tasted just as good cold.

  Tears welled in Kasumi’s eyes. “It’s delicious… I can’t believe how good this is. It’s been so long since I’ve tasted anything…”

  Watching her eat with such joy, Jin felt a warmth inside him.

  Master Liu always said he enjoyed watching Jin eat because he did it with “fragrance.” Jin never understood what that meant. But seeing Kasumi now, he finally got it.

  After finishing, Jin disposed of the trash in a nearby bin. He wasn’t sure if littering in someone’s cognitive space had consequences, but he refused to be uncultured.

  With their meal done, Jin opened the suspicious program on his phone again.

  The “Demon Summoning System.” Who the hell created this thing?

  Doubts aside, he activated it. A drowning man would cling to anything that might save him.

  “Mmm, sweet…”

  Pixie, upon materializing, fluttered around the structure excitedly. Her eyes lit up. “Is this a giant beehive? My generous master, are you telling me I can eat as much honey as I want?!”

  Beehive?

  Jin blinked, realization dawning.

  Yes, it was a beehive.

  Hives were something everyone recognized but rarely thought about. People knew bees lived in them, but the moment a hive appeared near their home, they called exterminators.

  No wonder he hadn’t recognized it right away—it was an enormous, inverted beehive.

  “No wonder the door is hexagonal.” Jin exhaled. “Well, as long as you don’t get sick, eat whatever you want.”

  “Yahoo! I love my generous master!”

  Pixie twirled in delight as Jin stared at the beehive-pace before him.

  "Easy."

  If you look through an ideology and morality textbook, you'll find this sentence: Humans are social animals.

  But biologists will tell you human sociality is fake. Many creatures exhibit true social structures—ants, bees, naked mole rats.

  Bees, for instance, have a rigid caste system. The queen breeds, the drones mate with her, and the worker bees handle everything else.

  A bee colony thrives by ensuring a select few live well while countless borers toil. Eventually, those privileged few sustain the colony, creating a cycle of shared prosperity.

  By this logic, humans are one step away from true sociality—mutual support and common prosperity.

  Walking through the enormous beehive, Jin braced for the inevitable swarm of [Shadow] attacks.

  After all, nearly every game followed this pattern: before the final boss, there was always a byrinth filled with monsters. And in real life, people associated bees with relentless swarms.

  The long road was there. But the monsters? Nowhere to be found.

  Inside the hexagonal chambers, honeycombs filled the walls, brimming with thick, golden nectar. Pixie, eager to indulge, managed only a fist-sized bite before giving up. Kasumi, curious, tried a piece—only to spit it out immediately.

  Store-bought honey was processed, pure gold in color, syrupy, and sweet. But raw honey? It contained beeswax, traces of pollen, and sometimes even dirt. It wasn’t nearly as patable.

  Cautiously, the three of them pressed forward through the pristine honeycomb corridors. Their vigince was wasted; no enemies appeared.

  Jin’s first impression of this hive was how small it felt. Compared to Kamoshida’s pace, it wasn’t just a dwarf beside a giant—it was an insect against an elephant.

  After three rooms, they reached a spacious hall. One side overflowed with towering jars of honey, while the other led to a grand staircase—practically a glowing sign for the boss battle room.

  Jin exchanged gnces with his teammates. It was a clear invitation to ascend. But was it a trap?

  There’s an old theory about Zhuge Liang’s Empty City Strategy: he got lucky. Sima Yi was suspicious by nature. If it had been a brute like Xu Chu or Lu Bu, they would’ve attacked without hesitation, ignoring the mind games.

  Jin took the same approach. If an enemy appeared, he’d fight. If a flood came, he’d build a dam. No need to overthink it. Whatever the scheme was, bring it on.

  Without hesitation, he kicked open the door at the top of the stairs—but didn’t charge in, wary of an ambush.

  Instead, he found three people standing inside.

  No surprises: the store manager, his son with the gaudy gold earrings, and a mustachioed employee.

  They knelt at the far end of the room. The chamber was empty. Unnervingly so.

  The moment Jin stepped in, the store manager sprang to his feet. His face twisted with rage, contorting like a character from a horror film.

  “You disgusting Chinese! Why are you still scking off? I want you back at work immediately! What took you so long?!”

  Before Jin could reply, the blond man with the earrings rose, his expression just as deranged. “Reflect on yourself! Do you realize how much everyone suffers because of your incompetence?!”

  The mustachioed worker joined in. “Yeah! Don’t you have any sense of social responsibility? Stop being a burden, idiot!”

  Jin blinked, stunned. What the hell were they talking about?

  “Employees are entitled to breaks. It’s in the w—”

  “Hey, hey! What are you saying, Chinese pig?” The store manager sneered. “Listen up! The ws of the Empire of Japan only protect its citizens. You are bottom-feeding scum. You have no right to speak of ws!”

  Jin froze.

  He knew the manager looked down on China. It was like racism in Europe—white people running businesses in Bck communities while secretly holding them in contempt. But in public, the manager had always kept up appearances.

  (Is this the so-called truth of the cognitive world?)

  Before he could respond, the three men standing before him underwent a grotesque transformation.

  Wings sprouted from their backs. Their arms split into six, their bodies elongating. They weren’t human anymore.

  Considering the beehive setting… bees. They had become monstrous, humanoid bees.

  The store manager was the rgest—bloated, nearly three meters long. His son and the worker fnked him, smaller but no less menacing. They hovered midair, wings beating rapidly.

  “Know your pce! This is a strict Japanese society! Everyone has a role, and you, Chinese, are nothing but lowly worker bees! Your only duty is to give us everything you have!”

  Jin’s fists clenched.

  “That’s right! It’s not like you’re not used to it!” the blond bee sneered. “What’s that philosophy called? The Doctrine of the Mean? It’s perfect for you! Just kneel and serve us! Be grateful to contribute to society!”

  The mustached bee buzzed in agreement. “Does he even understand? That’s the problem with these people. No proper upbringing. No sense of duty. He can’t even grasp the proud moral integrity of our noble Yamato race!”

  “【I’m CNMLGB!】”

  Jin snapped.

  Fury ignited in his chest. Pure, unfiltered rage.

  Kasumi didn’t understand his outburst, but she saw the fire in his eyes—burning, seething, ready to explode.

  “[Just because I’m Chinese, I have to be beneath you? Bullshit! I’ve spent my life trying not to cause trouble, but you people won’t stop pushing! Enough is enough!]”

  He thought he’d grown numb to this kind of treatment. He thought he could endure it.

  But having it thrown in his face, so raw, so btant—it was unbearable.

  Indifference to praise or criticism? That was for saints.

  Jin wasn’t a saint. And he had no intention of becoming one.

  Anger was justified.

  And—

  If they had only insulted him, maybe he could’ve let it go. But the moment they dragged his family into it, something inside him snapped. A searing pressure built in his chest, suffocating, demanding release.

  [You finally remembered…]

  A voice echoed in his mind.

  “【Who are you?】”

  [I am you. You are me. I am your incarnation… This time, don’t forget me…]

  Jin’s breath hitched.

  (He is me? I am him? Don’t forget… him? Have I forgotten something?)

  His mind swam in memories, but the enemy wasn’t about to give him time to reflect.

  The mustached bee, unable to understand his words, could still feel the fury radiating from him. And that was enough.

  With a sharp buzz, he charged straight at Jin.