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“So… that eye-shaped Dark Angel just vanished silently from the Otherworld it had infested? It didn’t try to corrupt or control anyone, nor did it leave behind any ‘offspring’?” Captain Song asked after listening to the report from the two Special Operations Bureau agents in front of him. He had been silent for a long time before finally speaking. “And throughout the entire process, neither of you heard any ‘higher-dimensional whispers’ in your minds?”

“No,” Xu Jiali replied, shaking his head, his voice low. “But it definitely noticed us. For a moment, I could clearly feel its gaze. It focused right where we were hiding. It was as if…”

Captain Song leaned forward, frowning. “As if what?”

Xu Jiali hesitated, searching for the right words. “As if it was searching for something.”

Captain Song tapped his fingers irritably on the table, deep in thought. After several long seconds, he exhaled slowly and turned to Li Lin.

“When you interacted with the man who called himself ‘Yu Sheng,’ did you sense any… ‘otherworldly’ aura about him? Based on your intuition, did he seem more like a human or… something else?”

“Like a human,” Li Lin said confidently. “At least in his speech, behavior, and basic social norms, he seemed entirely human. If he were an entity disguised as a human, then that disguise is flawless—to the point where you’d consider him genuinely human.”

“But he’s been ‘living’ at a ‘No. 0 Wutong Road’ that doesn’t exist in the real world,” Captain Song sighed. “That’s an Otherworld that doesn’t appear in any official records. Alien realms generate ‘entities,’ not… humans.”

Xu Jiali, who had been silent, spoke up. “There are some entities in this world that possess intelligence and can communicate. Some are particularly friendly or have desires related to our world and can even cooperate with humans. For example, ‘Storytellers’ and ‘Passengers of the Number’—they even exhibit some human characteristics.”

“But the ‘Yu Sheng’ you mentioned is on a completely different level—in terms of being ‘human-like,\'” Captain Song shook his head, glancing at Xu Jiali. “Can you confirm that he’s the same ‘Gate Opener’ you saw on Aimein-IX?”

“I can confirm it,” Xu Jiali nodded. “But he didn’t recognize me at all. Back then, I was wearing full power armor and a mental shield. It seems his perception abilities can’t penetrate that kind of equipment.”

“Limited perception, highly developed personality traits, the ability to open ‘doors’ at will, capable of combating Hunger Entities that have been greatly strengthened by the influence of the Dark Angel, but the specifics of how he defeated them remain a mystery… He seems to be deliberately hiding his combat methods,” Captain Song mused, summarizing the information as he thought aloud. “And there’s another thing…”

“He’s very friendly toward humans,” Li Lin added.

“Yes, extremely friendly—even willing to proactively engage with agents of the Bureau,” Captain Song nodded slightly. He seemed about to say more, but footsteps sounded in the hallway outside, interrupting him.

A knock came at the door, and a petite, short-haired girl stepped into the office, holding a folder. “Captain Song, the archives department sent over the information.”

Captain Song’s eyes widened a bit. “There’s actually a file on this ‘Yu Sheng’?”

“There is, but if you search directly in the system, it shows as ‘canceled.’ The cancellation date is the same day the population archive system for the Borderland was established. In other words, from the very beginning, this person ‘didn’t exist’—even before his recorded birth date. But oddly enough, after the cancellation date, his identity information has remained ‘active.’ The word ‘canceled’ is like an insignificant watermark in the system display,” the girl explained, placing the folder on Captain Song’s desk. She wore an expression of disbelief. “You can even find recent shopping transactions, social registrations, and transportation records under his ID—all functioning normally despite the system indicating ‘canceled.\'”

Captain Song picked up the folder, looking up in surprise. “A bug this serious, and the system didn’t alert anyone?”

“Nope. The Information Center is already scheduling overtime for tonight. When I passed by, I saw Director Wu practically exploding with frustration…”

“Let him explode then,” Captain Song sighed, shaking his head. “He does that a few times every month anyway.” He began flipping through the documents.

From start to finish, it looked like an ordinary resident’s file, complete with routine consumption records. The only anomalies were the glaring red ‘canceled’ watermark on each page and the ‘No. 0 Wutong Road’ address that shouldn’t exist in any official system.

Turning to his computer, Captain Song entered ‘No. 0 Wutong Road’ into a secure internal application of the Bureau. Hitting enter, he was met with an error message.

“A ghost… A ghost living in the Borderland, casting an indelible shadow in our complex population management system,” he murmured, his expression grim—though that might have had as much to do with his recent lack of sleep as with the situation at hand. “He didn’t just appear recently. According to ‘Yu Sheng’ himself, he’s been living in this city for over twenty years, which matches the records we have. And no one noticed—not even the Director’s keen eyes—until now, when he chose to contact us.”

Li Lin and Xu Jiali exchanged glances, both sensing the weight of the situation.

At least this ‘ghost’ doesn’t seem interested in causing trouble, and he even believes himself to be a ‘normal person.’

Just then, Captain Song’s eyes caught a particular line in the file.

“A writer?” He raised an eyebrow. “This ghost even has a job?”

“A freelance writer,” the girl replied. “He contributes to small magazines and media outlets, writing horror stories or third-rate scripts. He’s not well-known, and he hasn’t produced much recently.”

Captain Song pondered for a moment. “So he’s a struggling writer?”

The girl looked earnest. “He can support himself, so he’s not completely failing.”

“What kind of stuff does he write?”

“There’s a short story at the end of the file—I found it in a magazine from last year. I thought you might be interested.”

Captain Song flipped to the last page and skimmed it quickly.

“Well? What do you think?” the girl asked, a hint of anticipation in her eyes.

Captain Song was silent for a moment, then pulled a face. “I… don’t really get what young people are into these days.”

He cleared his throat, closing the folder nonchalantly. “But regardless, this is a lead worth pursuing. Arrange for someone to collect everything this ‘Yu Sheng’ has written. We’ll do a psychological profile and personality assessment. Also, keep an eye on his future… uh, ‘creative’ endeavors.”

He paused before adding, “An ‘alleged entity’ who believes he’s human—not only thinks like a human but can create like one. His works might reveal his true thought processes and emotions. This is unprecedented; we must take it seriously. But make sure he doesn’t catch on.”

“Understood, Captain,” the girl replied, taking the folder as she left the office.

As she departed, Captain Song turned his attention back to Xu Jiali and Li Lin.

“Did you ask him about causing ‘spatial rifts’ in the Borderland?” he inquired.

Li Lin shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Xu Jiali, who remained silent. Finally, Li Lin confessed, “…I forgot to ask.”

“You forgot? How could you forget something like that?!”

“I was under extreme mental stress at the time—probably the aftereffects of witnessing the Dark Angel,” Xu Jiali interjected smoothly, coming to Li Lin’s defense. “But even though we didn’t ask directly, we did pick up some information while retreating with Yu Sheng’s two companions.”

“You mean that puppet and the fox spirit?”

“Yes. Based on their conversation, the so-called ‘spatial rift’ was just… Yu Sheng trying to open a door to rescue a fox spirit trapped in an Otherworld.”

Captain Song stared incredulously. “That’s all?”

“That seems to be the case,” Xu Jiali confirmed.

“Just to find a way, opening and closing a few doors, and he shook the entire Borderland so much that even the chickens and dogs weren’t at peace?!”

Xu Jiali winced slightly. “Well, it mostly just shook up the Bureau…”

Seeing the captain’s glare, he decided not to continue.

Captain Song sat back, fuming silently. After a long moment, he sighed, waving a hand dismissively. “Alright, you two can go. This is a big deal; I need to discuss it with the higher-ups.”

Li Lin and Xu Jiali exchanged another glance. Xu Jiali hesitated before asking, “Should we proceed with formal contact with ‘Yu Sheng’ according to protocol?”

“Don’t worry about that for now. This will likely have to go through the Director,” Captain Song replied wearily. “If Yu Sheng were truly an ordinary person, I’d send you two over immediately. But the situation isn’t that simple. For now, go get some rest—oh, and don’t forget to stop by the ‘Treatment Room’ first. Get your check-ups done, fill out the forms, and then head out. Starting tomorrow, you both have three days off.”

“Understood, Captain,” they replied in unison.

As they left the office, Li Lin couldn’t help but feel a mix of relief and apprehension. The mystery surrounding Yu Sheng was deepening, and he knew this was only the beginning.

Outside, Xu Jiali patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry too much. We’ll figure this out.”

Li Lin nodded, grateful for his colleague’s reassurance. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

They headed down the corridor toward the Treatment Room, the weight of the day’s revelations still heavy on their minds.

Meanwhile, back in his office, Captain Song leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. The enigma of Yu Sheng was unlike anything they’d encountered before. An entity—or perhaps a ghost—that believed he was human, living unnoticed among them for decades. The implications were unsettling.

He picked up the phone, dialing the Director’s number. “Sir, we need to talk. It’s about the ghost in the Borderland…”

The stage was set for a deeper investigation, one that would challenge everything they thought they knew about the boundaries between their world and the unknown.