00:11. Midnight. Thirty-one minutes until the end of the world.

  The moon hung beautiful and luminous over Donghai, bathing the city streets in silver light that made even the grimy alleyways look polished. A particular aroma lingered in the air, perhaps from a nearby bakery or coffee shop.

  Zhou Ren savored the moment; the rich bitterness of imported cafe du monde on his tongue, the worn leather of a first-rated novel beneath his fingers, and the blessed silence of a Thursday night in the quieter district.

  This shop truly has the best coffee in Donghai. To the Mother, the best coffee in any world!

  It was no exaggeration. In the real world, coffee didn't exist, only alternatives. And imitation, no matter how great, cannot defeat even the lowest of the original product.

  He'd learned to appreciate these dreams, not just for this familiar taste, but for the idea that his actions bore no consequences.

  Ten years. Over 3,652 nights of walking these same city streets, sitting in this same café, ordering from the same menu the owner updated every season like clockwork; though that season never changed.

  Zhou Ren had done almost every petty and grand crime imaginable.

  He'd robbed the bank in Lingyun District forty-seven times. The vault code never changed. He'd seduced the mayor's daughter. Twice, he'd burned down the opera house just to watch it burn.

  He'd jumped off the Tianlong Bridge, crashed stolen cars, and once, just once, out of pure curiosity, he'd assassinated the Chief of Police. After all, this is just a dream. What's the harm in enjoying it?

  I can consider this an early vacation... He smiled, inhaling the bitter scent of freshly brewed coffee. The irony wasn't lost on him—a criminal taking a vacation from crime inside a dream? Speaking it aloud would certainly invite a crowd of ridicule!

  The heavens seemed to heed his thoughts.

  "Thief! Thief! Somebody stop that damn thief!"

  Mother above, I just sat down!

  Zhou Ren's eye twitched, his coffee cup pausing midair as he turned left.

  A middle-aged man stumbled into view, a salaryman perhaps. His suit was wrinkled, his face flushed. The sweat from all the running had soaked through his white collar shirt. Evidently, this was the most exercise he'd done in a long while.

  Same routine. Different victim.

  Zhou Ren had seen variations of this scene maybe two hundred times: petty theft in the commercial district, some desperate fool running from consequences that wouldn't matter when dawn arrived. If dawn does arrive.

  As he lowered the cup in his hand, a black streak swept past his table. The hot coffee splattered across his pristine white shirt, and the brown stain spread like spilled blood.

  Fuck.

  He stared down at the ruined fabric, then at his cup, now empty, its precious contents wasted on cotton and pavement, then at the fleeing figure now twenty meters away.

  This never happened before!

  The thief wore a Taiga mask, red and white, the kind of cheap novelty you'd find at a convenience store.

  A Taiga mask. Of course. Because why commit crimes with any sense of dignity?

  Behind the masked idiot, an officer in a black vest huffed and panted, already falling behind. For a second, Zhou Ren swore it was an elephant in a black uniform, but no—it was a human, not a mascot.

  "Stop! Police!" the officer wheezed, his hand fumbling for the radio at his belt.

  "Just because you say stop, I have to stop? Ridiculous!" the thief cackled, glancing back with obvious amusement.

  Zhou Ren set down his book with deliberate care, afraid it would get stained. He stared at the coffee stain on his shirt. At the empty cup. Then at the fleeing thief who'd just ruined his night.

  He recalled an ancient proverb; when eating, not even Gods can interrupt one's meal. When sleeping, not even heaven and earth can disrupt one's dream!

  His values in life could be reduced to two things: Eat good and sleep well. So as long as this is achieved, then it's a good life. And to him, reading was just as important as eating and sleeping!

  By the time Zhou Ren got up from his seat, the thief and officer had already disappeared around a corner. He didn't follow their path. Instead, he turned left, slipping into a narrow alley that most people didn't even notice existed.

  Years of treating his dream as a game had seared Donghai into his memory. Quite frankly, he knew the city better than he could sing the national anthem.

  Zhou Ren's figure became a pool of shadow, his body flowing through the obstacles with ease, moving as naturally as a river flowing downstream.

  He vaulted a dumpster without breaking stride, planted one foot on a graffiti-covered wall to redirect his momentum, and launched himself at a fire escape ladder.

  The metal groaned, only for a slight moment, then stopped.

  Still got it.

  From his elevated position, Zhou Ren could see everything.

  In the east, the Taiga-masked thief sprinted down the center of the street, clutching a small leather bag to his chest. The officer had fallen further behind, his face flushed and sweating under the streetlamps. He crouched with one foot against the roof's edge while checking his watch—00:21.

  Twenty-one minutes left before I wake up... He examined the thief's belongings.

  It was just a bag; small, brown, unremarkable. The kind of thing that should hold a wallet, maybe some jewelry if you were being generous.

  "Petty theft," Zhou Ren muttered, genuinely disappointed. "All this drama for a purse snatch? Where's your ambition, brother?"

  If I'm going to have my only reading time interrupted, it should be for something worthwhile!

  The officer's hand moved to his radio, lips forming words Zhou Ren couldn't hear from this distance.

  It was most likely standard procedure—calling for backup. But then his hand dropped to his hip, drawing his service weapon in one smooth motion.

  Zhou Ren's internal thought cut off mid-sentence—Wait. What?

  The officer racked the slide. The metallic click-clack echoed between the buildings. He raised the gun, aiming at the thief's back with the cold precision of an executioner.

  Okay, hold on. Lethal force? For a bag?

  Zhou Ren had spent years in Donghai's criminal underworld—dream or not, the rules were consistent.

  He'd bribed cops, fought cops, even impersonated cops on many separate occasions out of pure entertainment. He knew the procedures, the protocols, and the invisible lines that separated arrests from murder. This one crossed every single one.

  No warnings or leg shots, it was straight execution style. What the hell is in that bag? Nuclear codes? D.B. Cooper's body parts?

  His mind raced through possibilities, each more absurd than the last. But the gun didn't care about his theories, nor wait for his thoughts to fully form.

  The officer's finger was already on the trigger.

  My coffee is worth a lot, but certainly not a life!

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  He jumped, flowing across the rooftop like a summer ghost, his footsteps muted despite his speed.

  Brother, your ancestor must have earned great merits from beyond the grave to encounter me.

  Reaching the edge of the building, he paused and narrowed his eyes below, then jumped. As he descended, his fingers caught onto a laundry line, using it to decelerate before swinging forward.

  The officer was directly below him, gun steady, finger tightening on the trigger.

  Two seconds.

  Zhou Ren's hand grabbed a chunk of broken concrete—remnants of a crumbling chimney. He felt its weight and swung again in an exaggerated arc.

  One second.

  He threw.

  The rock whistled through the air with the precision of a sniper's bullet.

  CRACK!

  It connected with the base of the officer's skull with a sound like cracking an eggshell. The man's legs slumped, his gun clattering to the pavement, and his body following quickly after.

  "Headshot!" Zhou Ren called out cheerfully, approaching the officer's body.

  The gun had bounced twice and was still rolling. He didn't grab it immediately. If the safety was off, a misfire could happen if someone attempted to grab it midair. It was safer to just wait and be patient.

  He waited. One second. Two.

  Thud. Thud.

  "Good gun," he whispered, examining it in his hand. In one swift motion, he unloaded the gun and put it on safety mode. Zhou Ren glanced at his watch once more.

  00:28.

  He grinned, and a rarely seen chuckle escaped his mouth.

  Heh. A corrupt cop willing to kill for a small leather bag. Either I just saved the world's dumbest thief, or I just saved the world's luckiest thief... Zhou Ren turned, gun dangling casually from one finger like a toy, and smiled at the Taiga-masked thief.

  "Who are you?" The masked idiot asked.

  "I just saved your life." Zhou Ren gestured at the unconscious officer, the blood pooling beneath his head. "How about a proper introduction? And maybe an explanation of what's in that bag that's worth killing for?"

  The masked man stood frozen, his body language filled with confusion and fear. His gaze darted between Zhou Ren's relaxed posture and the very chill pool of blood.

  "He's a policeman, aren't you afraid?"

  Zhou Ren tilted the gun away toward the sky and stared at the masked man. With a barely noticeable smile, he scoffed. "In this world, there is nothing I am afraid of!"

  It is just a dream anyway, but he felt no need to say it.

  The masked man was speechless. It was unknown if Zhou Ren's words were true or not, but at the very least, this young man was bold and daring. This was evident by the way he attacked an officer without a second thought. Even the way Zhou Ren handled the firearm startled him.

  "Thank you, my name is Zheng San. What about you, little brother?"

  "Zhou Ren."

  "What is up with your setup? Wearing a Taiga mask? Don't we usually wear a black face mask? You stand out too much!"

  We? Zheng San repeated, confused. Zhou Ren behaved as though he were a seasoned criminal. On second thought, why was he using a Taiga mask?

  Wait, why am I being reprimanded by someone younger than me?!

  Nonetheless, Zhou Ren's attitude indicated he had no ill intention, nor was he related to the unconscious officer. Zheng San didn't completely let down his guard, but at the very least, he could relax a bit now.

  Zhou Ren stared at the leather pouch. "What is in that bag for him to resort to lethal force?"

  "Would you believe if I say I don't know?" He shrugged, expressing his ignorance.

  "Absolutely not!"

  Recalling the matter relating to the leather bag, Zheng San cursed, tossing it onto the ground. "Dog shit luck, they say the job would be easy, minimal risk, and high pay. I almost died for nothing!"

  Zhou Ren's eyes furrowed, unable to understand his words. Zheng San lifted the Taiga mask off his face, revealing his sweaty face as well as a deep scar that ran past his right cheek.

  "I want to know what is in this damn bag that almost cost me my life!"

  "Go ahead, I am curious too!" Zhou Ren nodded. He watched as Zheng San crouched down on the floor and opened the bag, revealing a single object—a book.

  "I risked my life for a book?" It was a thin black covered book with white lettering. As he flipped the book to the front and attempted to read it, he cursed even more.

  "What dog shit foreign language is this? I can't even read it!"

  Zhou Ren stared at the book. For a moment, he didn't move, didn't speak. Just stared. Then, slowly, he gestured for Zheng San to pass it to him.

  Holding it in his hand, his hand drooped to the ground. Subconsciously, he flipped the first page. A series of white lettering, cryptic symbols, and flowing curves danced across the sheets, making his head spin.

  His breath staggered, as though he'd run a marathon in the freezing winter.

  No.

  No, no, no.

  Ancient Hermes.

  This… I am not mistaking it. It is not a foreign language of the modern age, but the language of the Ancient Hermes! His fingers tightened involuntarily, and the cover creased under his grip. The sound—a soft, crackling whisper—seemed too loud in the sudden silence.

  In ten years, nothing had ever been new.

  Variations—yes. Different faces, same crimes. The bank vault code changed once when he'd suggested it to a guard in passing, but that was influenced by his action. The menu at his favorite café was updated 'seasonally', though that season never came.

  Zhou Ren's hands began to tremble.

  When was the last time his hands lost their strength? Year three? Year four? When he'd finally accepted that none of this was real, that dreams are ultimately dreams, and everything that occurred within the dream was but mere illusions, conjured by the mind?

  Zheng San leaned closer, his voice cutting through the sudden cotton-thick silence. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

  Zhou Ren's jaw clenched. He forced his breathing to steady, his expression to smooth into something resembling calm. When he finally spoke, his voice came out quieter than intended.

  "No." The lie stuck to his tongue like day-old grease. "But I recognize the language."

  "Do you know how to read this?" Zheng San saw the subtle changes in Zhou Ren's expression and immediately leaned over with curiosity. This book did almost cost him his life. To him, it would be great to know why someone would want to kill him over this thing.

  Zhou Ren didn't answer immediately. Instead, he composed himself as he glanced at the foreign lettering and shook his head. "No, but I recognize the language..."

  This was the truth. In the real world, within Belham, Ancient Hermes was considered an ancient language, rarely used by the common people, and few had even heard of it. This language was something that should not exist in the modern age. And yet, here it was, resting in his hand.

  Immediately, Zhou Ren felt a cold chill crawling down his back. Subconsciously, he shivered, but quickly rationalized his thoughts.

  Since I have never learned this language, how can I dream of something I don't know? I am a person from modern-day Earth, so I can dream of the city—this makes sense. But I do not know this foreign language at all!

  According to his established understanding of dreams from the modern era, a person can't dream of things they have never seen or understood. Not to mention, Zhou Ren was completely lucid, so the details were completely real, and even if he were to wake up, it would still be clear as day!

  Unless... these aren't just dreams? Suddenly, his impulsive decision left him frightened and wary, feeling as though someone or something was watching him from elsewhere.

  The Taiga masked man, officer, a black book; this entire incident was spontaneous, seemingly ordinary. Yet one detail, one variable, left him unsettled—an indecipherable black book.

  This was a change he had never experienced in the ten years of dreaming since his transmigration. Recalling Zheng San's words from earlier, Zhou Ren lifted his head, wanting to know who hired him to steal this bag in particular.

  "An anonymous client. I don't know anything about them. The organization I work for only supplies me with the task information, nothing relating to the client itself… The name is—" He paused, then blurted two words:

  "Eternal Club."

  Anonymous organizations… Eternal Club… This was Zhou Ren's first time hearing of such an organization. Their name invoked a sense of awe and respect, as though they possessed a long history.

  He raised his hand and glanced at his wristwatch, noting the time.

  00:37.

  Already?

  He took in a deep breath, then let out a sigh of regret before turning to Zheng San. "It's almost time."

  Zhou Ren tossed the book at Zheng San and forced a smile, then shook his head. "Let's meet again tomorrow. Tell me your address quickly."

  The clock ticked.

  00:38.

  "What do you mean out of time? Isn't the cop on the ground? We have all the time in the world!" He protested with helplessness, feeling the urge to investigate the origin of the mysterious book.

  However, Zhou Ren's smile dropped, his voice growing impatient.

  "I don't have the time right now, tell me your address!"

  Zheng San suddenly found Zhou Ren inexplicable. His appearance, actions, and the way he spoke did not fit that of a teenager or a young man since their first meeting.

  In his years in the underworld, Zhou Ren was the first to give him this impression. And for some reason, he felt inclined to answer Zhou Ren's inquiry. "51st Gongyuan Alley!"

  "We will meet again." Zhou Ren's worries eased as he let out a sigh of relief and patted his shoulder.

  00:41.

  Regardless of Zheng San's thoughts and concerns, it was too late to entertain them. There was little time left, and with all that remained, Zhou Ren raised his head to admire the beautiful, round moon one last time.

  00:42.

  When the time finally reached 00:42, he bowed, and his smile deepened. In his mind, he'd imagine a deep, resounding bell striking his ears; however, he knew that it was just his imagination. And that such a sound did not exist, that the city, oblivious to the arrival of the inevitable end, thrived with blissful ignorance.

  Zheng San reached his hand forward, hoping to ask another question, but a light made him turn around.

  "What is tha—"

  Boom!

  Boom!

  A flash of white light suddenly appeared, swallowing the entire world in an instant.

  00:42.

  Once again, at the edge of midnight, Zhou Ren welcomed the end of the world and the conclusion of another loop.