Everyone knew perfectly well that Shu had just kicked the ball back into their court.
He wanted to watch them argue amongst themselves, or perhaps politely defer to one another.
But whether they argued or deferred, the core issue remained the same: under the premise of Shu's question, their subjective opinions would clash. The moment any of them spoke, they would expose their innermost desires—or fears—regarding Shu's "special kinks."
To think you could turn this around on us... Well played, Shu. Well played.
Everyone saw right through Shu's "sinister intentions," but realistically, they were the ones who had tried to corner him first. They had no right to complain when he fired back.
And so, the entire group suddenly found themselves intensely interested in their own shoes, the ceiling, and the empty air around them. They desperately tried to gloss over the topic before it escalated any further.
Kiana attempted to whistle but failed. Bronya physically grabbed Shu's hand and placed it on her own head, manually muting herself. Mei smiled gently, entering a state of complete, zen-like detachment from the mortal coil.
Shu didn't push it. He shrugged, a slight smile playing on his lips, and watched the group as the elevator descended toward Level -6.
The avatar wasn't the main point anyway. Honestly, Shu didn't have much motivation to sculpt a VTuber model for himself right now. Unless it was absolutely necessary, he wasn't going to start that project.
Of course, that didn't mean he had lost interest in the concept... In fact, he was actually quite intrigued by it.
He just wasn't ready yet.
Why didn't I think of this before?
The ability to instantly manifest whatever I imagine—to literally project the images in my mind directly into physical reality—isn't that the ultimate dream of any self-proclaimed artist?
I don't need to worry about manual dexterity. I don't need to worry about material constraints or equipment limitations. I don't need to care about messy external factors. All I have to do is freely and unrestrainedly 'imagine.'
My god... I can't believe people obtained this power and used it to try and rule the world, chasing external wealth and status to fill the void of their meaningless lives.
The opportunity to meticulously manifest every single thought in my head, to examine myself inside and out with absolute clarity... how rare is that?
If power is meant to cultivate the self, why abandon the cultivation of the mind to chase after external trinkets?
No wonder those people chased after immortality. It turns out they were just using the fantasy of eternal life to combat their own existential nihilism.
Honestly... some people seek immortality because they need another five hundred years to complete their grand ambitions and dreams. But the immortality those guys sought was purely out of... a fear of death.
Why did they fear death?
Because their lives were so utterly devoid of value, they had nothing else left...
Even with the power to eclipse the sun and stars, their core essence remained the same: useless, empty, incapable of seeing themselves or the world clearly.
I used to be a pathetic person exactly like that.
Mhm... I should probably get everyone's input on this.
Even if I can't use the 'Stelle' model anymore, I have plenty of other designs I can show them. I'll get their feedback and then begin my 'creation' process in earnest.
Hmm... this might become a long-term project. The inspiration of the moment might be entirely overthrown the next second. The core essence of my 'flow state' will change every time.
If I'm not careful, a moment of stubbornness could result in an ego-stroking masterpiece that 'only one person in the world finds moving.'
It has to be a long-term creative endeavor. I need to enter a state of flow at least three times and examine the work from entirely different perspectives to achieve the best result.
The final product... I'm actually really looking forward to it.
"We're here."
The elevator hummed to a halt at Level -6. The group stepped out and entered the Fire Moth's core administrative sector.
Otto's private office and primary laboratory were located here.
Although the only permanent residents on this floor were Otto and Schrödinger, the area still commanded a heavy, solemn atmosphere. After all, this was the political and technological beating heart of the entire Fire Moth organization.
But today, the atmosphere felt a bit... off.
The corridors were eerily silent. Even the automated cleaning robots that usually hummed along the walls were nowhere to be seen.
Theresa, walking at the front of the group, instinctively slowed her pace, looking hesitant. "Why does it feel... a bit too quiet?"
"Indeed," Mei frowned. "It's abnormally quiet."
Shu also stopped, a similar suspicion rising in his heart.
Something isn't right.
Instantly clearing his mind of all distracting thoughts, Shu expanded his perception range without hesitation, sweeping through the entire base from top to bottom in a fraction of a second.
A massive influx of chaotic data flooded his consciousness. Shu let out a muffled grunt, his expression turning entirely flat as he stared in the direction of Otto's office.
He understood everything now.
Mhm...
Yes, everything.
"Let's hurry up and get to the office," Shu said, looking as if he had just been forced to eat a lemon. He let out a long sigh and waved his hand at the worried girls, signaling them not to panic.
"There's been a minor incident..."
Their hearts slightly clenched. They quickly picked up their pace and hurried to the door of Otto's office.
And then, looking through the open doorway, everyone simultaneously gasped in horror.
This was nothing like the immaculate office they remembered!
Piles of paper documents were scattered everywhere, a massive section of them soaked pitch-black by an overturned bottle of fountain pen ink.
Countless holographic screens flickered and glitched erratically in mid-air, like monitors struggling with a terrible signal.
The interior of the office was so utterly chaotic there was barely any room to stand. Everything was piled together—not just office supplies, but a truly staggering amount of everyday trash.
Several bulging black garbage bags were piled in the corner. One had burst open, spilling various pieces of junk across the floor.
Empty wine bottles, milk tea cups, haphazardly stacked bowls and steak platters, and countless wrappers from instant meals littered the room.
If the advanced air filtration system hadn't been working overtime, the smell would have been unbearable. Judging by the scene, everyone thought they had just stumbled into the claustrophobic apartment of a legendary, thousand-year-old NEET.
Where was Otto?
Scanning the room, their eyes finally drifted downward, landing on a figure lying peacefully amidst the sea of documents and trash.
He was lying face down, utterly motionless. One arm rested limply by his side, palm facing up. The other arm was stretched forward with a heavy sense of desperate hope, a single finger pointing toward an unknown destination.
And just beyond that outstretched finger, a pool of thick, red, viscous liquid was slowly creeping across the floor.
"Grandpa!" Seeing this horrifying tragedy, Theresa let out a wail of sheer agony. "What happened to you, Grandpa?!"
"Is Overseer Otto..." Mei raised a hand, covering her mouth in disbelief.
"Assassinated?!"