Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 208 Under the dim light, aviation medics and dreams
The ship sailing through dreams is not here to take you home.

It's not to remind you, but to remind you—you've already gone too far.

The lower and middle levels of the Lost One are like a dream sunk to the bottom of the sea of ​​memory—deep, silent, and endless.

Si Ming's footsteps landed lightly on the spiral staircase, each step carrying a faint echo.
Within the enclosed space constructed of metal and old wood, it is completely absorbed by countless layers of memories.

His fingers brushed against the railing; it wasn't the cold rust, nor the rough grain of wood.
Rather, it has a tactile sensation like condensed mist, as if it were the damp temperature of something that has been floating in seawater for a long time without drying out—sticky, moist, but not uncomfortable.

The lower hatch was unmarked and had no lighting.

A pale blue light seeped from the cabin itself; it was unclear whether it was phosphorescence, energy, or a reflection of a dream.

As Si Ming stepped onto the last step, a long, quiet corridor came into view.

A lone lamp hangs at the end, its blue light not dazzling, but rather like some kind of slow-breathing life, floating in the mist.

A double wooden door stands at the end of the corridor. There are no inscriptions, no patterns, and no handles on the door, as if it was destined from the beginning to be a door that is "pushed open" rather than "opened".

Si Ming did not hesitate.

He raised his hand, his palm lightly touching the doorway, as if caressing a sleeping dream.

The door opened silently, as if following the ripples of memory, slowly sliding to both sides.

Behind the door was a stagnant old medical cabin.

It wasn't spacious, but it was extremely quiet.

The rusty metal operating table was wiped spotless, as if it were waiting for the next patient.
The beds were neatly arranged, and the gray and white curtains were drawn, partially obscuring the seemingly forgotten shadows;
The medicine cabinet was covered with a gray cloth, and the bottles and jars inside gleamed with a deep-sea luster. They had no labels, but faintly released a familiar aura of herbs and spiritual energy.

In the far corner, an open medical record book lay quietly on the table. Half of the handwriting was strong and vigorous, but the second half of the page ended with a single sentence.
The pen strokes abruptly stopped—as if the recorder had been suddenly summoned away and has yet to return.

At the deepest part of the cabin, a figure sat quietly behind a chair.

He was translucent, with blurred outlines, as if composed of a stagnant cloud of light.

He was wearing an old-fashioned flight doctor's coat, with a faded "medical medal" pinned to his chest.
He wore a faded medical cap, which, though blurry, did not appear chaotic.

That is the "order" left behind by the dead, a "duty" that has never faded.

He had no eyes; his face was only marked by a calm, luminous line.

But his back was straight, his hands were neatly folded on the table, his posture was solemn, just as calm as when he stood on the deck diagnosing the crew's colds.

Si Ming stood at the door, saying nothing.

Because he knew that this ghost ship doctor was not a being summoned by any spell or ritual.

He is part of this ship.

He is part of the Lost One's "Memory".

No need for greetings, no need for knocking.

He will respond as long as Si Ming is willing.

Sure enough, after the two gazed at each other silently for a few moments, the ghostly medic slowly stood up.

There were no footsteps, nor any fluctuations of spiritual energy.

He simply stood up, yet it seemed to stir the air throughout the entire medical ward—

Like the pins of an old record being put back in place, everything in the room was "awakened" at that moment.

Behind him, the medicine cabinet moved in response.

No one opened them, no commands were given, but bottles of medicine floated up from the shelf automatically, their caps spinning.
The medicine was suspended, and wisps of spiritual light and grass mist transformed into thin, bluish-white threads that gently swirled around him, like vines in the sea or light in the night mist.

That was his action when dispensing medicine to patients.

He didn't forget.

He still remembers his duty, the proportions, and all the ways he can save lives.

Si Ming's lips curled up slightly, concealing the weariness and self-deprecation in his expression.

He didn't offer any further explanation, but simply turned around, gently tilted his shoulder, and made a "please" gesture.

The ghost ship's doctor did not respond.

He carried only a lamp, along with his blurry yet still upright figure, and slowly followed in the footsteps of the Master of Destiny, heading upstairs.

He was not a living person, yet he was more like a "doctor" than many living people.

Because he is still "practicing medicine".

Even if the patient no longer belongs to this world.

Before the footsteps were heard, they sank into the dreamlike air of the cabin.

The ship shuddered slightly, as if making way for a returning air medic, clearing a silent path for him.

When he returned to the cabin, he was greeted by a room full of eyes all looking toward the door—heavy, wary, and with a hint of pleading longing.

Vera was the first to stand up; her blonde hair shimmered softly under the light.
Her eyes held a weariness tinged with a glimmer of hope that had not yet been extinguished, and—an unconscious wariness.

"You found it?" she asked, her voice clear and restrained, as if she dared not place too much emotion on this question.

Si Ming nodded, raised his hand and tossed the cloth bag off his shoulder, the motion like throwing a simple yet life-saving answer.

"We can still find something in the kitchen," he said, tossing several bags of coarse bread and dried cheese onto the table.
He slammed a half-full bottle of rum onto the table with a "thud," the liquid trembling slightly, the bottle swaying and reflecting the faint blue light of the cabin lights.

"It's not high-end stuff," he said casually, "but it's edible."

Mu Sisi's eyes lit up at that moment, and she pounced on him almost reflexively.

Her eyes were red as if she had been smoking: "Oh my god, it's really edible... not an eyeball bubbling in a pot, nor a moving pastry."

Her voice carried a mix of sobs and laughter, a release of emotions after extreme suppression.

"The Lost One's kitchen is usually empty, with only a ghost chef."

Si Ming stood by the table, speaking casually, "Every time we come back, we bring some 'real-world ingredients' for it as 'exchange.' You give it food, and it gives you rice."

“That doesn’t sound very reassuring…” Rudolf frowned, still standing in the back row.

“Then you don’t have to eat it.” Si Ming shrugged, then picked up a piece of bread, took a bite without hesitation, and chewed and swallowed.

At that moment, he was like the first gambler to jump off the tower, gambling not on life or death, but on trust.

The crowd paused for a second, then swarmed forward.

The bread may be rough, the cheese salty and dry, and the rum slightly sour from being cooled down. But at this moment,
They were like divine nectar, each bite like crushing chaos, each bite carrying a sense of relief at a brief escape from a nightmare.

What you chew is the hard outer layer, what you swallow is the freedom after suppression—the confirmation of being alive.

Meanwhile, the ghost ship's doctor had already quietly begun his operation.

He walked silently to Duan Xingzhou and Lin Wanqing's bedside, like a soft light skimming across the surface of a night sea, landing quietly.

He remained silent, yet it was as if he spoke a thousand words.

He stretched out his translucent palm, as if drawing starlight from the wind, and the potion bottles that had been floating behind him began to rotate automatically, emitting a low hum.

Wisps of mist-like herbal light flowed from the bottle's opening, landing precisely on Duan Xingzhou's swollen knees.
The dreamlike spiritual energy spread out at the wound, the bruising began to fade, the swelling slowly contracted, and the pain gradually lessened.

Lin Wanqing's wound was more serious; the thread that ran across her shoulder blade almost severed her life.

The ghostly doctor simply leaned forward, the light in his palm moving like a suture needle along the edges of the wound, sealing the cracks between the flesh bit by bit—steady, precise, and fast.

It is more direct and pure than any high-level mystery.

He had no expression, yet he was as gentle and persistent as a true doctor—no response, no gratitude, just that you live.

Vera's expression shifted slightly as she looked closer to Siming and whispered:
"The structure of this ship... is more complete than I imagined. Your grasp of it... doesn't seem like it's your first time."

Si Ming leaned casually against the ship's wall, half of his body shrouded in lamplight, while the other half was bathed in the light and shadow of this "Dream Ship."
He took a bite of bread and mumbled an indistinct reply: "Hmm?"

Vera smiled and didn't press the matter. She understood the unspoken answer hidden behind that vague statement.

That wasn't the first time Si Ming had traveled with this ship. Nor was it the first time he had watched death rise from his dreams.

Si Ming simply raised his eyes and watched the dark blue chandelier sway gently.

At that moment, he didn't say anything more.

He knew the storm was still lingering in the distance.

But at least for now—they are still on the sea.

The cabin was dimly lit, and the air was filled with the salty aroma of bread and cheese.

The warm, full feeling, mixed with the relief of surviving a disaster, seemed to bring a sigh of relief to the entire Lost One.

Just then, Mu Sisi walked over with half a piece of cheese and carefully sat down next to Si Ming.

Her movements were so light they were almost silent. She held the half-eaten cheese in her palm like a precious jewel, as if afraid it would be blown away by the wind at any moment.

She glanced at Si Ming furtively and said softly, "Um, Brother Si Ming... thank you."

Si Ming raised an eyebrow: "What are you thanking me for?"

"You...you didn't have to interfere so much in our lives." Her voice was very low, but surprisingly serious.

"You sorcerers, you don't really have any obligations, do you?"

Si Ming chuckled softly, shrugging slightly. "I just know that if we don't do something, you might be completely devoured by that city by tomorrow morning."

"But that's also about protecting our lives," Mu Sisi sighed softly.
"Besides, I don't believe that just because you look so fierce on the surface, you're really a bad person at heart."

As she spoke, she smiled and said, "I know you have a sharp tongue but a soft heart." Si Ming turned to look at her, his smile carrying a lazy provocation: "Oh? You're quite bold."

"No way!" Mu Sisi stuck out her tongue. "I'm not afraid of you being mean to me. It's your fault for taking my biggest piece of bread just now."

"Huh?" Si Ming unconsciously tilted his head. "Which one are you talking about?"

"It's the piece you bit into!" she said righteously, hands on her hips. "So you steal food from girls too? That's so ungentlemanly."

Just as Si Ming was about to retort, a familiar voice interrupted from behind.

"That's right, our master has never had the slightest bit of gentlemanly manners!"

Selene skipped and hopped in, carrying a string of dried fruit she'd stolen from somewhere.
She stood next to Si Ming, puffing out her cheeks, looking like an angry little cat.

"He's fierce, but he's not all soft-hearted!" she accused, pointing at Si Ming.

"He was so mean to me! All I did was take a few thousand dollars of his money to go on a shopping spree, and he—"

"Do you want me to confiscate your credit card and confine you to the house for three days, forbidding you from going shopping?" Si Ming said indifferently without turning his head.

Selene choked, her puffed-up face instantly deflated, and she immediately put on a pitiful, sullen expression: "Hmph—bad master!"

"You're always bullying me! I've already eaten so much disgusting stuff for you!"
During the blood feast, I was almost dying from the sourness, and you said you'd only eat thirty kinds, but I ended up eating forty-seven! And when you were fighting, I clearly helped you—"

"Stop." Si Ming finally turned his head and glanced at her.

Selene, with a "go ahead and say it" look on her face, tilted her head back and stared straight at him.

Mu Sisi was already laughing so hard she almost dropped the cheese in her hand. Fujimiya Sumi couldn't help but laugh out loud too, her smile carrying a glimmer of light that had been suppressed for too long.

"So—" Mu Sisi asked softly as she ate her bread, leaning closer to Si Ming, "Are you two... lovers?"

"Huh?" Si Ming's eyebrows shot up, but before he could speak, Celian interjected with her hands on her hips, "Him? He's my bad master! He only dares to yell at me!"

"What did you say?" Si Ming's voice was slightly cold.

“I said you were mean to me,” Celian retorted, blinking her eyes defiantly.

"...Shut up and eat dried fruit."

"I won't!"

A genuine burst of laughter immediately filled the cabin.

There were no screams, no cries, no piercing system notifications—only the rare gasps of breath from a group of people on their nightmare journey.
A group of people who are fighting desperately to survive find a little bit of human emotion on the verge of death.

The cabin lights still cast a soft, dim glow, like water, like a dream, swaying gently in everyone's eyes.

Outside, the Lost One continued its slow journey. It traversed the gap between dream and reality, silently sailing along the Forgotten Ones' course.

The ship didn't speak, but it seemed to hear laughter.

It had no heart, yet it seemed, at this moment, to gently applaud these people who were still alive.

The ship trembled slightly again, as if turning over in its sleep.

Beyond that ship window, the world is quietly changing.

At first, it was just some wispy blue mist, like ink flowing in the sky, but soon...
Layers of colors burst forth from the mist—golden light falls like quicksand, glass encircles a rainbow bridge of light, silver whales leap across the sky, and transparent dolphins twirl and roll in the void.
The tide hangs in the air, like an inverted ocean, reflecting a dreamlike seven colors.

Mu Sisi was the first to press herself against the window, her eyes wide, and she let out a suppressed gasp like a child: "Wow—"

She pressed her forehead against the glass, her eyes darting through the illusion, her cheeks flushed slightly with excitement. "This...this is too beautiful!"

Fujimiya Sumire and Eileen also gathered around, their eyes filled with shock and amazement, as if witnessing the first unfolding of a fairy tale world.

"That whale, it's swimming in the sky...it's really laughing!"

Fujimiya Sumire almost held her breath. "Am I... dreaming?"

"Is it a dream?" Eileen murmured. "I never imagined that the world after death... would be like this."

Si Ming leaned against the cabin wall, the dim light reflecting on half of his face. His tone was calm and serene, yet it was like a drop of water falling into a still lake, stirring up ripples:
"This is Dreamland."

"The unique voyage of the Lost One. It doesn't belong to any real dimension, yet it's clearer than a dream."

"We are sailing on a sea of ​​illusions—in the gap between dreams and reality."

“And everything you see…” he paused, his gaze as deep as the night, “may all have been memories of the dead.”

The cabin suddenly fell silent. The illusion continued to flow slowly, but the gazes of the people were no longer simply filled with joy.

It was a gaze bordering on awe, as if through the magnificence outside the window, one could see another layer of meaning—death.

It is also a memory, a shore they are about to reach, or perhaps never reach.

Rudolph then silently approached, standing between Si Ming, Vera, and Zhuang Yege, his voice so soft it was almost drowned out by the ship's hum:

"I would like to know……"

"Are we... safe now?"

He didn't ask what the next step was, he only asked one question—was "safety" possible?

His fists clenched, his voice trembled slightly, but he refused to bow his head, his eyes hiding an urgent hope and a vague pain.

He thought of his wife, and of his daughter curled up in bed calling "Daddy" before going to sleep.

He used to believe in reason, but now he began to yearn for an irrational miracle—just to live and go home.

Si Ming was silent for two seconds, then slowly shook his head: "I'm sorry."

"No."

Rudolf froze, his face paling slightly, his breath seemingly caught in his throat.

Zhuang Yege continued, her tone calm yet carrying a barely perceptible hint of sorrow: "The 'door' to that city is sealed."

"The connection between your world and that theater city has been severed by an unknown force."

Vera continued, her voice gentle yet firm, "This is not a simple copy incident, but a lockdown of the 'door' itself."

“And the Lost One…” she glanced around gently, “is just a private domain that has been fortunately preserved.”

"It's not a passage," Si Ming added.
"It was just... a canopy, an escape boat adrift on the illusory sea."

His gaze fell on the ghostly ship's doctor who was still tidying up bandages: "Every soul that remains on this ship will eventually forget the reason for leaving the shore."

"He may have been a doctor, a kind person in some world."

"But now, he doesn't remember his name or his identity, he only remembers that 'there are wounded here,' so he has stayed."

Si Ming turned to look at Rudolf, his eyes devoid of pity, carrying only the weight of reality:

Would you be willing to become like that?

Rudolf opened his mouth, but ultimately said nothing. He retreated to a corner.

He remained motionless for a long time, simply sitting, as if chewing on that last remaining glimmer of hope.

Vera sighed and looked around at everyone: "Take a good rest during this time. The Lost One allows us to stay, but we won't have to wait too long."

"We must return to that city and continue the challenge."

At that moment, Si Ming's gaze suddenly paused, and his body tensed slightly.

The illusion outside the window continued to shift, but somewhere—a shadow flashed by at lightning speed, piercing the light of the sky. It was not a whale, not a rainbow, and not a cloud.

That's a person.

A figure flashed by, brushing past the porthole, its back to the dreamlike scene, yet bringing a real sense of unease.

Si Ming's gaze suddenly narrowed, but he did not alert anyone. He turned and walked towards the door.

Vera noticed his movement and asked softly, "Where are you going?"

Si Ming didn't even turn his head: "Meeting a friend."

"Don't go too far," Vera said in a low, steady voice.

"Don't worry," he replied with a smile.

Standing by the door, he gave a final look at the crowd, his gaze sweeping over those eating bread, whispering and resting, leaning on each other, his tone softening slightly:
"Don't open the deck door while I'm away."

"Don't be curious about what's outside the window."

"Dreams are the most skilled executioners at coating things with sugar."

Mu Sisi hummed in agreement, holding her sketchbook and looking at him like a child looking at her departing father and brother.

Si Ming turned around, and the door closed behind him.

The cabin fell silent.

The pale blue chandelier swayed gently, emitting a very low sigh.

It was as if they knew, yet also as if they were reluctant to part.

And Si Ming embarked on a journey that once again took him far from "safety".

The ship trembled, footsteps were silent, and deep within the dream, something had already opened its eyes.

When you start to lose sight of the difference between illusion and reality

This means you are already too far from the shore.
Unable to reach the shore.

Welcome back, lost soul.

(End of this chapter)