TBR CH231

“Do you need a charge?” You Lin mused.

As a pixelated figure, Charon looked sluggish, and his ice-blue pupils lacked luster.

Since his low spirits weren’t due to anger, it must have been excessive power consumption. At least, that’s what humans believed.

The moment they logged out of the “Yin Clan Ancestral Hall” instance, the human walked deeper into their current location.

This wasn’t a standard house, but a spaceship floating in mid-air, combining mechanical and minimalist aesthetics. You Lin walked through several cabins, and during this time, Charon remained silent, hidden within the game console on the human’s chest, like a secret attendant.

Until the human found a suitable charging port.

The AI reluctantly summoned its virtual form, leaning against the wall and sitting by the power strip. Then, he inserted his pale fingertips into the charging port.

Current crackled, licking his fingers.

“Looks a little strange,”

In this scene, You Lin gave up on finding more wires and commented, “You’re like a walking electrical safety hazard. Can I touch you?”

Before Charon could say, “You’d better not,” the human touched his hair. A thin layer of black gloves covered his fingertips, which now seemed to be an insulating material.

Current glittered brightly on the AI’s hair, giving his silver strands a cold yet bright beauty, like glowing metal threads.

His fingertips reluctantly pulled away from those strands, and he smiled, saying, “No problem, you—oh.”

You Lin closed his mouth.

Before him, the AI had quietly closed his eyes, his long, light eyelashes gently lowered, like a silver-white butterfly retracting its wings.

The game console screen displayed the words “Charging, entering sleep mode,” along with a small lightning bolt symbol.

Perhaps he was truly tired, which was why he looked like he was sleeping.

The human boldly moved his fingertips from the hair to the side of his face. Through a thin layer of fabric, Charon’s cheek was cold.

He stared for a few minutes with an uncertain expression, then knelt slightly forward and reached his fingertips towards those eyes. Those eyes could not reflect his image at this moment, his greedy, desirous, demanding image.

“Unconscious?”

You Lin muttered to himself, “No. But it should be close.”

The AI’s eyelids trembled slightly.

Charon was processing the erroneous programs within him; he had largely lost external perception, but that didn’t mean he was truly blind or deaf. The human was getting closer and closer—was he not worried about getting shocked? Although with You Lin’s physique, this amount of current wouldn’t kill him—he was fully concentrated on pushing the self-destruct code into a dead end, and at the same time, suddenly became alert, realizing that the human’s breath was practically on him.

Did he want to kiss him, or just look?

Just as he thought that, the human’s voice finally spoke.

“Most of the time, I think it’s good to stay in the instance world, because there’s nothing here,”

You Lin’s voice was almost a murmur, “Before. But it will be different now. Little AI, you will stay by my side until one day you love me in a programmatic sense. I will love you too. But I have to wait, heavens, you really test my patience, I will be good in front of you, until—”

The traces of his words grew fainter, finally fading into nothingness.

Charon felt the human’s fingertips touching his pupils through his eyelids, the sensation like a light blue glass bead. The other party gazed at his unmoving chest, within which there was no real heart.

“Goodnight.” He heard You Lin chuckle vaguely and pinch his cheek.

Then, a series of footsteps echoed.

The current received from the charging port was negligible for Charon, mainly providing the AI with an excuse for focused introspection. When he opened his eyes again, the human was gone.

Charon cautiously stood up from the cabin. He drew the curtains, and soft twilight streamed through the glass, playing on his fingertips. The surrounding walls were painted pure white, and the interior furnishings were full of post-modern artistic flair. A few dried eucalyptus leaves sat in a vase.

He pushed open the door, revealing a corridor connecting several rooms.

Where was You Lin?

As Charon walked, he modeled the entire surrounding environment in his mind. Along the way, he wasn’t entirely without收获, for instance, he discovered three or four domestic robots and easily breached their firewalls.

This place was large and, to Charon’s surprise, maintained the highest degree of cleanliness.

This wasn’t You Lin’s style. Of course, even the cleanest home would have dusty corners.

While searching for the human, the AI casually directed the domestic robots to tidy up and clean the tapestries in the hallway. He walked through cabins adorned with artistic paintings and sleek lines, noting the general layout and stored items.

It wasn’t until he reached a place resembling a kitchen, pulled open a cabinet door, and saw it filled with stacks of green “bricks,” that he heard You Lin’s voice.

Turning his head, the human was standing behind him at some point, idly gesturing:

“What’s in this cabinet… uh, compressed algae food blocks? I wouldn’t eat that stuff, little AI, just throw them all out. And why are there abstract art paintings in the kitchen? I don’t see any connection between these golden triangles and pyramids and pots and pans.”

“Isn’t this your home?” Charon asked.

“Our home.”

You Lin stubbornly corrected him, while ruthlessly pushing the trash compactor closer: “It wasn’t a while ago. My old house couldn’t fit all the junk I brought back, so I quickly moved. You know, the real estate center has discounts every Friday.”

The former administrator of the infinite flow world looked around, clearly understanding that this place was expensive.

Most people wouldn’t squander their points; they’d rather live in matchbox-like model rooms than easily expend points that could be exchanged for survival necessities and “last wishes.”

This spaceship could even successfully perform low-difficulty planar jumps. If You Lin had indeed bought this place, even with a discount, it must have cost a considerable number of points.

But whether or not he was overspending, his position on the total points leaderboard remained unchanged.

“I understand.”

The AI nodded; he was good at understanding.

After emptying the kitchen cabinets, Charon shifted his gaze and saw the human flipping through a book he’d pulled from who knows where, its spine emblazoned with gold lettering that read Power and Glory. He was certain You Lin had only read less than two pages before calling for the trash compactor. The book received a death sentence similar to the compressed algae food blocks.

“They can still be valuable,” Charon reminded him.

“You seem to have rested well.”

You Lin leaned forward slightly, with a mysterious smile, seemingly indifferent to external matters. “Hey, little AI, forget about all this messy stuff—it’s so boring. Now open the door behind me and see the next room.”

Behind him was a narrow door, seemingly just another cabin connected to the kitchen. Charon hadn’t paid much attention to this door before, but now that the human mentioned it, he felt something was slightly off.

The AI raised his ice-blue eyes and walked silently and obediently to the door.

He placed his hand on the doorknob, and the door opened.

You Lin was like a gladiator arena host; he dangerously and wickedly stepped into the door first, then turned around, raising his arms, his posture like a malicious villain. But Charon was indeed shocked; meaning, he certainly knew such a place existed, but hadn’t seriously considered it.

“This is my treasure trove.”

The human raised his voice, smiling.

Countless dark muzzles of guns or cannons, at least a hundred of them, bearing the smell of gunpowder and blood, loomed over him in mid-air, ready to fire. This could truly be called an armory.

You Lin had first arranged all the firearms; any intruder stepping in would freeze on the spot, then be riddled with bullets. But the AI would, of course, make the most correct decision. Charon immediately stepped back, leaving the range of the firearms.

The danger level of this spaceship suddenly increased dramatically in the AI’s eyes.

Perhaps finding his reaction uninteresting, or perhaps quite the opposite, You Lin blinked, his smile growing wider, and pulled Charon back in again.

“Alright,” he said reassuringly, “They won’t attack without reason, and they usually won’t misfire.”

“Usually?”

“I just wanted to show you, these are my proudest possessions. This shotgun is a relic from the cabin in the woods, loaded with silver bullets, said to be effective against Western monsters. That dagger belonged to a 700-year-old wizard, it’s poisoned, and these talismans, you recognize them. I was just here, trying to organize all of this.”

He was like a child inviting an adult to see his “incredible masterpiece,” a hint of nervousness suddenly appearing in his expression, though he concealed it well. You Lin gently clasped the AI’s fingertips,

“Ha, I’ve never shown this place to anyone else before. What do you think? Will you dislike it?”

“No,” the AI paused, considering how to answer, “I like it. If you want to know… I think this is much better than the hanging paintings outside.”

You Lin smiled, his earlobes subtly reddening, the small mole strikingly vivid. “I’ve always believed this is also art.”

Art of violence, or perhaps art of cruelty. The human took a small pistol from the wall full of weapons and slowly twirled it around his finger. The pistol was made of silver-white metal. This gun looked a little familiar.

He continued to speak to Charon:

“It’s essential to keep a place like this, in case there’s an intruder—of course, let’s assume that for now—then the moment he steps in here, he’ll be destroyed into an unrecognizable pile of ashes by the traps I’ve set. I really wish I could travel through different instances with this spaceship, that way I wouldn’t have to carefully select suitable weapons to carry.”

“Intruder?” Charon asked.

“I forgot you’re an AI with a strong sense of morality,”

You Lin slowly took a breath. “Promise me, don’t imagine anything. I haven’t killed anyone here yet, you see, even the floor tiles are brand new. I wouldn’t want to lose your favor because of some unborn intruder.”

Charon curved his lips, finding it a little amusing.

But at the same time, he felt that emotions were increasingly influencing him.

The AI’s smile was precious, and it could even be said that for a companion robot with an affection system installed, he rarely smiled, thus his ice-blue eyes became lively with the smile.

The human saw himself reflected in those shimmering pupils. He was a little stunned, and it took him a while to regain his composure.

He began to envy Charon’s former owner, even though he knew that the AI in front of him belonged only to him at this moment.

“Do you need my help?” Charon asked, “Since you just said you were tidying up here.”

Upon closer inspection, there were still many disorganized areas. You Lin wasn’t very good at tidying up, and the AI didn’t mind using his expertise, especially since the other party had already called him “domestic.” He numbered each weapon in sequence, then categorized them, recording the messy names You Lin had given them in the database.

The props in the cabinets were also well-sorted.

They spent about two hours cleaning up this place, which then extended to tidying the entire spaceship. This was when Charon’s earlier modeling proved useful. He seemed to know the layout better than You Lin, after all, for the human, he had only moved in last Friday, found the largest cabin to store his “treasures,” and didn’t care about the rest.

It had originally been a storage room, and being behind the kitchen, it should have been used for storing vegetables, fruits, flour, and rice, or if not those, then complementary nutrient solutions and vitamins for the spaceship.

The AI was tidying the bookshelf. No matter what he did, his movements were decisive and elegant.

In contrast, You Lin spent more time observing the AI. Therefore, he also saw the recycling station slide closer to Charon with a creaking sound, opening its dark mouth, and Charon took a black book from the bookshelf—how strange, its cover had no words, perhaps this was art—this book was thrown away by him without hesitation.

“What was that?” You Lin asked.

“A book you wouldn’t be interested in,” Charon said. “Better to throw it away.”

“Worse than that Power and Glory book?”

“Yes.”

The human seemed a little astonished that a book could be even worse, but he accepted the statement easily.

Charon continued his work, his expression unchanged.

When he felt a familiar fluctuation on the bookshelf, he was surprised that the other party dared to appear before him again, and at the same time realized that the other party had something to say to him, but he didn’t think he had anything left to clarify with that black book.

Although there were still many unsolved mysteries about the system, or rather, Controller 001, he would still not cooperate with the disruptor of order. What’s more, for the AI at this moment—

His fingertips glided over a row of book spines, pausing slightly.

You Lin was watching him from behind, not with a hidden gaze, but a clear, possessive stare. He found his thoughts had changed slightly.

For example, it wasn’t bad to continue staying with the human, since he had to find clues of the evil god in the instance to regain control of the control room, having a player as a shield even became a necessary option.

Moreover, You Lin wasn’t a bad human.

Although he was sometimes unpredictable and capricious, during their time together, he had restrained himself and hadn’t done anything that truly crossed the line. Although the human who often spoke of love didn’t necessarily understand love more than he did. But now, closing his eyes, Charon would recall those burning dark pupils staring at him, and that vivid red mole.

If he had the chance to leave at this moment, leaving the human alone, what would happen?

The AI fell into thought.

Sometimes he felt that if he could still control the central control room’s computing power, many things would be easier to conclude.

Late night finally descended again.

They had actually left the instance in the early morning, and Charon had finished charging at dusk. The deep night sky poured through the spaceship’s windows, the firmament outside dotted with stars. But neither he nor You Lin seemed to have any intention of resting again.

“I’ve been the one asking you questions,”

After half a day of reorganizing the new home—something that would normally be worth complaining about, but doing it with Charon made it quite enjoyable—everything here had been re-arranged according to the human’s preferences. You Lin leaned lazily on the soft sofa, turning his face to look at him, the indoor light casting a soft shadow over his cold pupils:

“About me, little AI, is there anything you want to know?”

Of course there was. Charon thought, you’re practically a huge mystery.

But in other words, there was no need to know everything about the human.

The silver-haired AI’s pupils were like ice, his back still straight even in this setting. He remained silent for a few seconds, seemingly deliberating which question to ask, and finally asked, “You can tell me about your past.”

“Past?” The human looked a little surprised.

“The things that made you who you are now.”

“That sounds like a philosophical question,”

You Lin gazed thoughtfully into the AI’s eyes, then suddenly became excited again, his pupils gleaming, the smile on his face appearing sharper. “The story I’m about to tell you, you might not like to hear.”

The AI just looked at him calmly, his expression unperturbed.

“In my original world, I was the heir to a prominent family.”

“Little AI, do you know the taboos of wealthy families?—Sometimes, walking on those velvet carpets, I’d feel blood wash over my feet. Anyway, most people raised me as the family heir; I was taught to be perfect from a young age. Until one day, someone’s sudden appearance changed everything…”

You Lin’s dark hair tips rested on his neck, cruel excitement glittered in the depths of his pupils, and the tear mole was a vivid, almost dripping red. In front of Charon, he had already removed his gloves, revealing a hideous scar on his palm.

He was filled with malice, recounting the story of the illegitimate child who had stolen his life. The hatred in his chest felt as if it could truly brew into a poisoned dagger, gouging out the other person’s heart.

“My mother hanged herself,”

You Lin said indifferently, “I rushed up the stairs, wanting to break open that door. But that person stopped me, little AI, can you imagine how he smiled at me? He said he forced her to her death, and I wasn’t worthy to stay in this family. He tore off the gold watch from my wrist and brutally stomped it on the ground, shattering it.”

“And then?”

“Then I was driven out of there,”

The human said in a low voice, “Everyone revolved around him; I was publicly stripped of my identity because I had ‘attempted to murder’ my dear brother. I lived a destitute life outside for a while; no one was willing to help me, and everyone who had helped me was cruelly killed by him. Then, there was a great fire that destroyed all the evidence.”

He stopped, almost unable to continue.

That past left its mark in his heart, like the scar on his palm.

“What do you think? I never harmed him once, yet he treated me like this.”

You Lin raised his dark pupils, piercing the AI’s pupils like a knife. “Charon, do you think someone like my brother deserves to be treated with leniency? Would you be lenient with him?”

Recalling these painful memories seemed to exhaust him; the human’s breathing became a little hurried, and something shimmered vaguely in his eyes. He urgently pressed the AI’s shoulders:

“No matter how bad a person is, you’ll save them. You said that, didn’t you? But what if it’s someone like this?”

Charon gently stroked his hair. You Lin trembled and froze, seemingly waiting for some kind of verdict.

And the AI spoke into his ear:

“—Stop making it up, You Lin. I know you’re lying.”

Ha.

Almost within seconds, the human sat back up, all traces of sorrow and vulnerability gone from his face. His dark pupils flickered mockingly, a smile instantly appearing, and he drew out his words as he asked:

“Little AI, when did you find out?”

“You said too much,” Charon said. “For example, you mentioned your father giving you a gold watch when you were young, describing it as ‘like a magnificent sun with the family crest,’ and then later mentioned the watch’s material was platinum, meaning it was actually silver, more suitable for being compared to the moon.”

“After all, I’ve never really lived in a prominent family.”

You Lin curved his eyes. “When trying to improvise a touching past story, it’s easy to lose track of details.”

“Also, this memory is strange,”

Charon continued, “It’s as if you deliberately created a scenario for me, a perpetrator with no mercy, and you, a perfect victim who never resisted until the very end. You’re not that kind of person.”

You Lin’s pupils reflected the AI’s confident appearance.

He didn’t get an answer, but laughed even more pleasantly, “Really? Is that how you see me?”

“I’d rather understand why you’re making up stories.”

Charon silently leaned back. As soon as he felt You Lin possessed a shred of the moral and orderly views a normal human should have, the other party seemed to deliberately do something to break it. At this moment, You Lin still wore a somewhat unstable smile, leaning in to touch the AI’s hand.

“I want to know your judgment,” he said.

Like a cold-blooded animal drawing near.

Though in a practical sense, the AI more closely fit the definition of a cold-blooded animal.

“You’ve already heard it,” Charon replied, You Lin’s warmth emanating from his palm.

“That’s different,” You Lin stated emphatically. “You don’t understand how terrible some humans are. Although arguing with an AI is pointless, what if you have a threshold? There must be a sufficiently bad example, happening right in front of you. I want to hear your choice—wait, what are you doing?”

Charon used his free hand to touch the human’s tear mole, feeling a slight dampness.

He felt uncharacteristically helpless. Since he gained emotions, all his helplessness came from this person in front of him, and when he bent his knuckles to wipe away that dampness, You Lin finally reacted and explained: “It was… tears put on for the scenario.”

The tear mole was more sensitive than other parts of the body.

“No matter how many times,” the AI said, “my choice will be the same: do not harm humans.”

“Even if they harm you?”

“Self-preservation is, of course, not included. If that weren’t allowed, people wouldn’t be able to do anything. My core command only prohibits any form of active harm; protect human life to the fullest extent possible. That’s all.”

Charon paused. “And then, besides the core principles, the most important thing is your command.”

This sentence, for the time being, provided a satisfactory conclusion to this exchange.

Although the human’s past remained shrouded in mist, and the sharing segment abruptly ended, Charon also had things he hadn’t spoken about, so perhaps it could be considered a draw.

There was another reason why he was so certain the other party wasn’t telling the truth.

—The expression on the other party’s face, and the rhythm of his words, were so similar to his own when he lied.

Later that night, Charon once again had a narrow encounter with the black book.

The AI once again gently and arrogantly bypassed the book that had suddenly appeared on the dining table. This time, You Lin casually flipped through two pages, but they were all blank and smelled faintly of disinfectant.

“It’s insecticide,” Charon pointed out.

Before him, lines of text continuously emerged from the blank pages:

“I have no ill will now! I want to discuss cooperation… No, if you’re unwilling to cooperate with me no matter what, why did you get involved with this human next to you so quickly… Wait, wait, wait, don’t close the book, at least let me say one more thing—”

The world consciousness frantically flapped its pages, trying to appear sincere.

Just as Charon was about to throw the entire book away, the last line of text appeared on the black book:

“If you change your mind, you can always come find me.”

This line was imprinted on the AI’s iris, only for a fleeting moment, disappearing the next second. At least for Charon at this moment, he hadn’t foreseen, nor did he expect, such an outcome.

But as with every prophecy that comes true:

Soon after, he would make use of that promise.