Woke Up to Find the Game I Made Came True

Ye Bai’s strategy was simple—whether Luo Jin suspected her or not, she would accuse him first. Wounded people were prone to paranoia, and that was perfectly reasonable!

But in reality, Luo Jin had indeed begun to harbor doubts.

However, at this very moment, when Ye Bai turned around, revealing the familiar face and figure of their boss—more importantly, the unmistakable psychic chains radiating from her like a spider’s web—all of Luo Jin’s suspicions evaporated.

There was no doubt: this was the boss in the flesh!

Personal terminals could be stolen. Irregular behavioral patterns could be replicated. But psychic energy was the most unique imprint of an individual, and in Luo Jin’s understanding, it was absolutely impossible to perfectly mimic.

Luo Jin could faintly sense that the psychic energy the boss was emitting now lacked the overwhelming pressure it once carried. But this only corroborated the boss’s earlier claim of being injured.

Faced with this sight, Luo Jin immediately withdrew the psychic energy he had been gathering.

He dropped to the ground, prostrating himself in fearful apology. “Boss, I… I overthought things…”

Ye Bai didn’t speak. She didn’t retract her power either, merely gazing down at Luo Jin in silence.

With his psychic energy completely suppressed and not a hint of resistance left in him, Ye Bai could end Luo Jin’s life with a single thought—just a flick of the psychic chains.

But considering the “Luo Jin” she had seen at the Maquell Group, the mystery behind it remained unsolved. She still didn’t know how many subordinates like Luo Jin the Black Hole had, nor how much low-level intel and resources this man controlled in the lawless star systems—resources that could prove extremely useful…

In the end, Luo Jin—kneeling on the ground, drenched in sweat, his heart pounding—felt the psychic chains that had bound him slowly loosen. The pressure from the boss faded away.

Then came a cold, dismissive command:

“There won’t be a next time. Get out.”

Luo Jin gasped in relief, as if granted a pardon, his heart swelling with gratitude.

“Y-yes, Boss!”

As he stood, his muscles and bones stiff, he could only watch as the boss stepped through the spatially enhanced doorway, her figure vanishing as the door closed behind her.

Only then did Luo Jin feel his soul return to his body. The moment he recalled his earlier suspicions, he couldn’t help but smack his own forehead—

How could he have dared to doubt the all-powerful boss? If her identity had truly been compromised, it would mean the boss was already dead. And anyone capable of killing her would surely be an A-class psychic themselves—why would they bother disguising themselves as the boss in front of him?

Luo Jin left the planet, weighed down by regret and lingering fear. Meanwhile, Ye Bai, having stepped through the doorway, found herself transported through a surge of energy into a quiet, enigmatic space.

Her feet landed on a floor that felt both metallic and stone-like. She glanced around, taking in the secret stronghold of Black Hole, an A-class psychic.

The space, perfectly cubic in her vision, held no equipment or furnishings. Instead, the walls, floor, and ceiling were replaced by a vast, starry expanse.

Against the deep black surfaces, countless stars shimmered, slowly rotating around the center of the room as if in a real galaxy.

Ye Bai stood frozen for a moment before cautiously reaching out to touch the nearest “star.”

Her ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‍fingers met cold, unyielding wall.

Like a projection, the “star” continued its trajectory undisturbed.

Pausing, Ye Bai withdrew her hand—and replaced it with her psychic energy.

Fortunately, having already passed verification at the entrance, her psychic probe didn’t trigger any alarms.

As she extended her senses, she realized that this seemingly small space was, on a psychic level, as boundless as the starscape it depicted.

From the entrance, she had guessed that Black Hole’s lair employed some form of spatial technology. Perhaps the lair’s true location wasn’t even on that barren planet—but she hadn’t expected this technology to extend into the psychic realm as well.

This time, when her psychic energy brushed against the “star,” her mind erupted with a thunderous rush.

[Externally Linked Psychic Transmission Technology Application…]

Her psychic energy acted like a high-bandwidth data cable, flooding her mind with an overwhelming surge of information and knowledge.

The transfer was staggeringly efficient. In her era, this would have been the “knowledge imprinting” every student dreamed of—directly embedding information into memory, bypassing the need to read, listen, or memorize.

Ye Bai stood motionless, dazed, taking a long moment to readjust.

Truthfully, her B-class psychic capacity was more than sufficient to handle this influx. But her ingrained thought patterns hadn’t yet adapted—like a computer with upgraded hardware but outdated software.

Still, she managed to extract the information she needed most:

Black Hole’s lair—this space—was, in fact, a fully psychic-operated laboratory.

The countless stars shimmering before her were akin to massive data archives, containing decades’ worth of Black Hole’s experiments and research.

Along with the data she had just accessed, she also learned the name of this space—no, this laboratory:

[The Aether Lab.]

From the accompanying [Lab Manual], she discovered that the Aether Lab could store vast amounts of data and, when activated by psychic energy, simulate experiments in an “aether environment” indistinguishable from reality—without affecting the outside world.

If one had enough psychic power, anything was possible.

What level of technology is this lab? Did Black Hole build it himself?

The second thought was quickly dismissed. The most obvious clue was the [Lab Manual] itself—no sane person would include a user guide for a lab they built and used themselves, as if afraid others wouldn’t know how to operate it.

There would be an instruction manual, but to Ye Bai, this laboratory itself felt more like a 'product.'

Once this thought occurred to her, Ye Bai immediately recalled the technologies in the exchange zone. Although the exchange zone mostly offered one-time-use functionalities, the 'fantastical' level of technological advancement here was strikingly similar.

However, the exchange zone didn’t include anything from the Aether Laboratory—so how had Black Hole obtained it? Ye Bai suspected it might have something to do with the mission zone, which had remained silent so far.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Ye Bai turned her gaze back to the vast sea of stars within the space—

The technological sophistication of this laboratory was reassuring, and she even tested connecting to the StarNet without issue.

For the next while, Ye Bai would take advantage of her identity as Black Hole, using the excuse of 'recovering from injuries' to study the invaluable knowledge left behind while also strengthening her abilities across the realms.

By the time she re-emerged, Ye Bai estimated she would truly live up to the name 'Black Hole.'

...

On Oceanus, in a research institute dormitory backed by the Mirage Sea civilization’s authorities—

Aurora received an urgent alert mid-combat. After swiftly eliminating a Level 22 monster, she exited the battle zone, logged out of the game, and immediately checked her personal messages on the StarNet.

There was still no reply from Ye Bai. Her last message, sent half a month ago, mentioned that she had completed her class advancement, reached D-rank psychic energy, and was occupied with an escort mission, unable to visit Aurora in her home city.

Aurora had been busy with her mentor’s assignments and leveling up, only learning three days ago about the tsunami that struck Oceanus—precisely in the area where Ye Bai resided.

She immediately tried contacting Ye Bai, but the system showed that the planetary signal from Ye Bai’s location was disconnected.

Since D-rank psychic energy users could choose to block planetary signals, Aurora couldn’t tell whether Ye Bai had done so or if something else was at play.

She then reached out through official channels to inquire about Ye Bai’s status, but the response left her stunned—

The anomalous tsunami incident had been classified as top-secret. The affected area was now under full lockdown by the Mirage Sea civilization, undergoing containment and relocation procedures. Even with Aurora’s personal connections—and her family’s even higher-level influence—she couldn’t access any information about it.

Since receiving the news, Aurora had been restless and distracted. Now, as she returned to reality and opened her eyes, her personal terminal buzzed with a highest-priority communication request.

Though the sender’s identity wasn’t displayed, Aurora recognized the nature of the request—it could only come from the civilization’s most classified departments.

"Please open the door."

Aurora took a deep breath, suppressing her unease, and complied.

Outside stood a sharp-eyed agent from a special division, their features concealed by a high-tech mask:

"Identity verified... Ms. Aurora, we need you to cooperate with an investigation."