I'm Trapped in the Block

The Sect Leader didn’t pay it any more mind. He had been badly frightened by the dump truck.

’Time to keep waking up.’

He started opening his eyes again and again, but he still couldn’t reach reality. The phone beside him was still glowing incessantly.

’Still the same call. How am I not back yet? Just how deep did I go this time?’

He couldn’t quite remember anymore. When too much time passed in a dream, you tended to forget which layer you were in.

’This awakening seems to be taking a while.’ The Sect Leader realized something was wrong, but since opening his eyes repeatedly took no effort, he kept doing it, puzzled. He had already opened them many times.

Open eyes, open eyes, open eyes...

Finally, when he opened his eyes again, the glowing light from the phone was gone.

’Am I back?’

He rubbed his blurry eyes, only to find that the ceiling above him was not the familiar one.

’Where am I?’

He found himself lying on a bed, with a dense canopy of text covering the sky.

"He found himself lying on a bed, with a dense canopy of text covering the sky." He read the line of text aloud.

"He read the line of text aloud."

The more he read, the more horrified he became. The text above was chronicling events he had already experienced. He couldn’t make out the words in the distance.

The Sect Leader discovered his very next actions were already inscribed in the text above him.

"In his panic, his hand slipped, and he fell from the bed."

’Is that what I’m about to do?’

The Sect Leader slowly sat up, and only then did he discover that beneath this dome of text were countless beds.

A different person lay sleeping on each narrow bed. They were all dreaming peacefully, as if they would never awaken.

Both the text and the beds were packed together in dense arrays, stretching out as far as the eye could see.

The Sect Leader’s eyes widened. That terrifying Celestial Curtain of text seemed to be constantly lowering, as if it could come crashing down at any moment.

’This has to be a dream, right?’

Staring at the bizarre scene before him, the Sect Leader concluded he had stumbled into an unknown region of the dream world and hastily closed his eyes, trying to escape.

But when he opened his eyes again, he found the Celestial Curtain of text, once high above, was now pressed against his face. The terrifying, enormous letters were flush against his nose.

He was too close to make out the content of the text, but he could see the brilliant, colorful pixels it was made of.

The pixels flickered, emitting a blinding, multicolored light.

He could even feel his breath being blocked by the Celestial Curtain, the warm air turning back onto his face.

In his panic, his hand slipped, and he fell from the bed.

The Sect Leader didn’t hit the ground. Instead, he plummeted into an endless void.

The Celestial Curtain of text and the sea of beds lay far above, growing more distant as he fell until both text and beds shrank into imperceptible little pixels.

The Sect Leader’s mind was a blur. He could only feel himself passing through countless beds as he fell.

He could feel what it was like to be lying on a bed, yet he could also feel himself sinking deep inside one.

He didn’t know how long the cycle lasted.

The surrounding phones were still glowing, their continuous flashes forming a single white line that stretched to the horizon.

It was like he was in a rapidly descending elevator. When the light stopped flashing, he found himself lying on a bed in a high-end hospital, his body covered in plaster casts.

The butler who had led him into the Manor before was standing beside him, holding an identical non-disclosure agreement.

"And you still managed to survive." The butler tidied up his things as he spoke calmly. "The Master won’t kill a man twice. You’re very lucky."

The butler took his immobilized hand, pressed it onto an inkpad, then used it to put a handprint on the agreement.

For some reason, the agreement already had his signature on it.

Seeing the shock in his eyes, the butler explained, "Your signature is quite easy to obtain."

"There now. Your injuries aren’t too severe; you’ll be discharged in a while. From now on, just collect your money every month."

"Would’ve been better if you’d just done this from the start."

The butler carefully placed the agreement in his briefcase and walked out...

「Sometime later」

The Sect Leader returned home, but what he found there shocked him even more.

The pickled vegetables he had hoarded were gone.

All that remained were empty glass jars...

But one jar was left, placed in a conspicuous spot as if to remind him of something.

Not a drop more, not a drop less. The seal on the jar was perfectly intact.

"500g."

Trembling, the Sect Leader picked up the jar of pickles, placed it under his pillow, and lay down.

His wounds hadn’t fully healed and still ached faintly.

The black hole he had visualized was seared into his memory.

He wasn’t sure what he was thinking about. Perhaps it was his dead father, his numb mother, his novel, or that speeding dump truck.

’It’s too absurd.’

His thoughts sank into the black hole.

He entered the dream.

’So this is reality.’

...

"That is what the Sect Leader of the Dream Realm Sect experienced. After that, he founded the Dream Realm Sect, intending to lead everyone in an escape from this world."

"Because of that experience, his mind became somewhat unstable. He tells everyone he meets that the world is merely the Creator’s plaything and that his own life is being manipulated by the Creator. Whether it was the terminal illness, the amnesia, or the car crash, it was all arranged by the Creator."

Martin said slowly.

Mo Ling was puzzled. "How do you know all this about him?"

"I had already joined the authorities by then. I was present during the investigation into this incident. We used a relic that can extract memories from a corpse to obtain this information, but it can’t be released to the public, so it’s been kept under wraps."

"Actually, the authorities have long known about many things, but this information isn’t made public because it might cause mass panic, or it could even generate some kind of contamination."

"Some of my colleagues even speculated that knowing about this might draw the Creator’s attention. That’s the potential price I told you about."

Martin explained gravely, as if each part of his story was meant to corroborate the others.

"Why would knowing the true nature of the world draw Its attention?" Mo Ling asked.

"In other worlds, it wouldn’t. But the true nature of our world is that it’s a novel. The Creator has a fondness for people who see through the world’s nature, because these ’characters’ have the potential to become heroes."

"Just like when you read a novel, you enjoy a story full of twists and turns and characters who can conquer the world. The Creator is the same. Not only that, It will make your experiences even more turbulent, full of ups and downs."

Martin thought for a moment and gave an example. "For instance, whenever you go somewhere, you’re bound to run into a crisis. That crisis is bound to have a major boss. That’s the classic hero and Demon King dynamic. It might even set you up with a princess and some companions, regardless of whether they’re useful or not."

"In short, you’ll feel like your adventure is especially thrilling."

As he spoke, Martin turned the question back to Mo Ling. "Do you think you’re being watched?"

"No, I think things are pretty normal."

"That’s good." Martin’s hand relaxed slightly. "Ever since your group found me, I’ve felt like something was off. It seems like everything suddenly became full of twists and turns..."

Mo Ling thought Martin was overthinking it. He didn’t really believe what Martin said about the true nature of the world, although he found it very interesting.

As for being watched, that was even more impossible.

’The hero of a novel can’t possibly be a Block, right?’