Volume One: The Ant Nest

Chapter 1: Intern (Part One)

Late November, early winter in Decama. The routine morning bell rang from Central Square, and gray pigeons flapped their wings, gliding across the equally gray, hazy sky.

Gloomy, cold, and utterly dispiriting. What a perfect day for robbery or a funeral—very fitting for William Carter’s current mood.

A few months ago, he still held the title of first-class lawyer, served as the dean of the Interstellar Metz University Law School, and attended garden parties full of celebrities, impeccably dressed…

And now, in such a short time, he was penniless.

It was 8 a.m. He was walking through the most chaotic black market district in western Decama, slowly sipping coffee while scanning the crowded shop signs along the street.

His face was fair and handsome, but his expression was full of deep annoyance and disdain, as if he were drinking not premium coffee, but pure civet droppings.

He’d been wandering here for a while, just looking for a suitable shop—one that could help him look up some information, and ideally, make a fake ID.

Five minutes later, William Carter stopped in front of a narrow storefront.

The electronic sign outside displayed two lines—

Blackstone Repair Shop

We do everything!

Perfect.

William Carter squeezed his coffee cup, tossed it into the street’s electronic recycling bin, and stepped into the shop.

“Good morning—” The owner, hair a mess like a bird’s nest, poked his head out from behind the counter. “What can I help you with?”

The shop was well-heated, and even William Carter, who was a bit sensitive to the cold these days, felt the warmth. He took off his black gloves and pulled a metal ring from his coat pocket, placing it on the counter. “Help me check this.”

It was a shape-shifting smart device, able to morph at will. Most people preferred the ring form for convenience—worn as a bracelet, ring, earring… even anklet or belt.

William Carter’s tastes weren’t that eccentric, so his was just a plain ring.

“What do you want to check?”

“Everything you can.”

“Alright.”

The owner picked the right tool, tapped twice, and the smart device popped up a holographic interface.

There was pitifully little on the interface, so clean it looked fresh from the factory.

Just four items: an ID, an asset card, a one-way shuttle ticket to a neighboring planet, and a purely synthetic audio file.

Out of professional ethics, the owner wouldn’t casually open the files, but William Carter knew exactly what was in those four items—he’d looked them over dozens of times in the past two days.

The ID was a temporary fake, under the name Edward Harris, a recent university graduate, completely inexperienced;

The asset card was an anonymous virtual card from the black market, with a balance that wouldn’t last him two months;

The shuttle ticket was one-way, no return, basically telling him to get as far away as possible.

“That’s it?” the owner asked.

William Carter sneered inwardly. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Not only was that all in the smart device, it was probably all he owned in the world right now.

Exciting, isn’t it?

All he’d done was attend a garden party one weekend in May…

The wine was a bit cold that day, and halfway through, it upset his stomach. He excused himself and left early, finding a nearby hotel to rest.

Who would have thought that “nap” would last half a year—from summer to winter. When he opened his eyes again, it was already November—just two days ago.

He woke up in an apartment in the black market district, with the smart device by his pillow and nothing else.

Luckily, the internet was full of information, and it didn’t take him long to figure out the surface story—on the day of the party, the hotel he stayed at was attacked in a bombing, and he, unfortunately, became one of the unlucky victims.

But he was a rather famous “unlucky victim.” News headlines everywhere mourned his untimely death in all sorts of dramatic ways, and after two months of sensational coverage, things finally quieted down and he was gradually forgotten.

……

Of course, the truth was clearly not that simple.

The synthetic audio file in the smart device explained part of it—

In fact, someone had rescued him from the explosion, used the past six months to perform short-term genetic surgery, and made minor adjustments to his appearance and biological age, so he could look like a recent graduate for a while. They also prepared a fake identity, money, and a ticket, so he could get far away from Decama…

In short, all signs pointed to the explosion being a targeted act of revenge. He wasn’t just some collateral damage—he was the intended target.