Chapter 1: Welcome to the dimensional Agency
Chapter 1: Welcome to the dimensional Agency
— This is a meaningless survey.
Filling it out won't get you a prize, and not filling it out doesn't matter either. But since you've already opened this survey and wasted a precious or not-so-precious few seconds of your life, why not just fill it out? After all, there's only one question, and at most, you'll waste another minute.
This was the sentence that appeared on Ethan's computer screen.
His computer wasn't infected with a virus, nor was it hacked. The reason he saw this screen was entirely due to his obsessive-compulsive disorder.
Recently, a certain browser, as notorious as its namesake angle, has become increasingly rogue, constantly innovating ways to push advertisements. They pop up in the browser from time to time and even blink incessantly in the icon tray at the bottom right corner of the screen.
As an early user of the "Penguin" platform, he had long been accustomed to clicking whenever the small icon blinked, even if he closed it immediately after opening. Although he hardly logged into "Penguin" on his computer anymore, how could a habit formed over many years be changed so easily? Every time he fell for it, he reminded himself not to click again, to just let it be, but he couldn't help but click every time.
This time was no exception. Seeing the icon blink, he instinctively moved the mouse and pressed the left button, then saw this sentence that made him laugh and cry.
First reaction— "Huh? It's not an advertisement? What's gotten into the 'Angle' company, have they reformed?"
Second reaction— "Could it be some survey conducted by the company itself, something like 'Are you satisfied with our products?' followed by standing on a moral high ground and boasting? That's their usual trick."
After the habitual disdain and complaints, came the normal thinking.
"This copy doesn't look bad, it suits my taste. I'll be magnanimous and waste a minute to see what you're up to—after all, I'm quite free."
It said there was one question, and indeed, there was only one question, a sentence followed by a blank text box.
The question was: If you were about to travel to a two-dimensional world you're familiar with, what would you most like to do? "…"
"What is 'Angle' company trying to do? They're not content with being rogue software developers, now they're asking about traveling to the two-dimensional world? Do they also want a piece of the pie from the two-dimensional realm? Do they really think otakus are fools with too much money to be easily deceived? Or do they think 'Emperor Penguin' is a soft persimmon, ready to be squeezed however they want?"
"No, I can't let them succeed. To eradicate rogue software, it starts with me!"
His mind was quick, and so were his hands. He immediately moved the mouse towards the "X" icon. However, just as he was about to click, his index finger stopped.
"Wait, that's not right. 'Angle' company is the boss when it comes to rogue software, but they're complete novices in the two-dimensional realm. It's a big taboo to rashly switch fields. Over the years, many have wanted a share of this realm, but no one has been able to shake 'Penguin's' dominant position. If they're willing to come over and get beaten, isn't that just perfect?"
"Right, I shouldn't just close it; I should actively cooperate, boost their confidence. It would be great if they could be tricked, but it's no big deal if they can't—after all, I'm quite free!"
With this in mind, Ethan clicked into the text box and earnestly filled in his answer.
As a member of the otaku circle, and one who was relatively successful, making a living from the two-dimensional cultural circle as a hardcore otaku, he had fantasized about this more than once during his adolescent years and had come up with many answers.
Things like gaining power, soaring to the skies, and slaughtering all around.
Things like building a force, and having a taste of being a big boss.
Things like marrying all the paper-thin wives and establishing a grand crystal palace.
But what his fingertips ultimately typed out were only eight words— to save tragedies and make up for regrets.
It might have been a moment of folly, or perhaps he was simply impulsive, or maybe he was tired of the disappointing works lately.
Indeed, tragedies elevate a work, leaving the strongest impression on readers, but people yearn for beauty. If possible, he really didn't want to see tragedies in beautiful stories.
It was a bit foolish, a bit wishful, a bit unrealistic, but it was his true thought, at least at that moment.
"Because my name is Ethan, if 'Angle' company can really do it, I do hope they can grow big and strong."
He chuckled self-deprecatingly. A man whose family had always imbued him with beautiful meanings and who had lived a rather fulfilled life input those eight words plus two punctuation marks and gently pressed Enter.
After a moment of contemplation, he added another sentence: "As long as it doesn't endanger myself, after all, my name is Ethan, not a saint."
As he lifted his finger from the keyboard, Ethan's vision suddenly darkened.
When clarity returned, he found himself surrounded by unfamiliar scenery.
No familiar computer, no longer the rented room he knew—instead, an expansive yet dimly lit enclosed space.
The sole source of light in the room was an oil lamp, its flickering glow revealing a wooden table below, its material unidentifiable. And there, hunched over the table, was a man.
The man's presence felt contradictory. He appeared unassuming at first glance, yet the details hinted at a life marked by experience. His features seemed somewhat East Asian, yet with a touch of Caucasian characteristics. His face was clean, and his overall appearance could be described as handsome. The gentle smile at the corner of his mouth evoked an inexplicable sense of reassurance.
Sensing Ethan's gaze, the man stood up and spoke in a mild voice: "You're not dreaming, Ethan."
That first sentence startled Ethan.
Without giving him a chance to speak, the man continued: "Don't be surprised, don't get excited, and don't let your mind wander. There's no benefit in doing so; it'll only waste your brain cells. Since I could transport you from your computer to this place, it means I possess abilities far beyond your imagination. You've probably encountered similar statements before—when faced with absolute power, any resistance is futile."
"…"
Ethan's tense body relaxed. He had to admit the man was right. If this were true, anything he did would be pointless. And if it were all a dream, then it hardly mattered.
"What do you want from me?" Ethan asked.
"You're intelligent and composed; I like dealing with people like you," the man replied.
His smile grew, seemingly satisfied with Ethan's response.
From this, Ethan deduced one thing—the man's earlier words were deliberate, aimed at minimizing the emotional turmoil someone might experience suddenly finding themselves in an unfamiliar environment.
Had the man not spoken that way, their conversation might have followed the typical script from fictional works: Why am I here? Who are you? Why did you bring me here? Such questions would not only waste breath but also time.
What could he achieve by resisting? Did he possess the capability to force answers?
So Ethan chose to stop struggling and listen more than speak—it was the wisest choice.
"I know you have many doubts, and there will be time for questions later. But before that, let me finish speaking. This place is the dimensional Agency, and I am its founder and director. Welcome, Ethan."
(End of this chapter) 📖🌟