"There must be something wrong with those two people."

"No poop. Do you want Westin in?"

"I'm not sure. Do we have any records about his sister?"

"Nothing. I didn't even know he had one. Do you see Karl's face?"

"What's wrong with him?"

"This kid is sweating all the time. It almost soaked the carpet. He's our helper. ”

"Still, we need to find him. Let's pass by his house again. The bag on his shoulder, I've seen in his room. He's been home since we've been there. Figure out if his father is covering for him. ”

"You're right."

If the Internet is the miracle of modern technology, then free wireless Internet is a real miracle.

I can't go home. No matter what Matt says, I can't risk the police coming and arresting me or bumping into my dad again. I'm crossing rivers everywhere and tearing down bridges, but I really don't care. For the first time since we returned, my mind was focused and clear. My goal was not to find Blake and figure out what to do next, but to focus on my mission: to get back to Serraville.

It doesn't seem much better, but I've been through it once. I know it's possible, so it's perfectly logical to assume that it can be repeated. I'm following in my best friend's footsteps. It's the best way I can think of to honor him.

Blake urged us to go to the Sierra Forests that night. I accompanied him mainly to accommodate him. A strange, blue-green light flying around the depths of the forest? What he saw through the bedroom window, no one saw? And of course, why not? I didn't have anything better to do, and it was a good excuse to force Matt to leave his house to join us. Of course, that's when I adored Matt.

Not so much now.

I set up camp at a free hotspot. Fast food restaurants, coffee shops, bookstores, libraries. I have a lot of money if I need it, taking it out of my parents' credit card. I had to use it as much as I could before they turned it off, and keep moving after I was done, not following any pattern if I could hold back. As long as you can avoid suspicion.

So far, luck seems to be on my side. It was early Saturday morning, and the police or anyone else didn't bother me. I slept in the woods, covered with a thick blanket, and hid under a tree with particularly thick roots. Unless someone walks right up to it, they'll never find me.

It reminds me of the weeks when Jane and I were on the run outside of Venamport. Even with all my influence and authority, with my friends at court and my own power, I still became a fugitive in that city. I broke a generational tradition, and in a particularly bloody way. In general, long-term institutions like this really don't like to be shut down. We shouldn't have come out alive.

Of course, Jane wouldn't let that stop her. She took us, not me, straight into the fields and forests. Still, we were within the city's sphere of influence and had to spend our days and nights alone, with a deep distrust of anyone we met. But with my knowledge of the region and the unparalleled ability to treasure what allowed us to hide and survive, we managed to make our way through the vast area back to friendly territory, where my troops awaited.

With a single word, the whole city will be razed to the ground.

I may have overreacted, but I stand by my point. The city was filthy.

A signal from my laptop brought me back to reality. I sat in the corner of an all-night restaurant where I spent the first few hours of the day. I ordered a plate of bacon and a big glass of soda while I still enjoyed my favorite stuff. The bacon on the other side won't taste so good, what about the soda? Forget it.

I wiped my hands before turning on my laptop. It was filled with electricity again, which brought me peace to the whole spiritual world. My battery had drained quite a bit the night before and it was very disturbing to be tethered in one place while charging. If I had to flee, even a few seconds of unplugging could cost me everything – and if I couldn't access the information, especially my server in the cloud, my search would be even more difficult.

This email is from my best contact so far. He's clearly as paranoid as I am, and we've been exchanging private messages on a sci-fi/fantasy forum. We quickly evolved to encrypt emails to avoid access to the web server. I desperately tried to confirm his words. Some of the details are wrong, but in general, he seems to have a reasonable understanding of Serraville. I didn't dare let my hope take hold. Can this person really cross two worlds like I do?

I had to know. I wanted to meet him, but he declined any offer of direct contact. Every message I sent seemed to take us one step forward and a few steps back, and he tried to tease out who I was. Caution is key, and I'm determined to win. If he's some kind of trap, the one who lures me into the open to get chips, I'm not going to be the first to make a mistake.

Taking a step back, his latest email is depressing.

Reinsurance: Cyaveil

I think you're making it up. You didn't tell me any details. There's nothing wrong with this in any second-rate fantasy novel. I won't say another word until I'm sure you're legitimate. quid pro quo. Give me something real and we'll talk.

I'm not going to just take it that way. I began to explore the truth. My little trick really works. I was determined to find out who he was, at all costs.

The first step is to get more details about his connection and access logs. To do this, I need SFFHave

but I can only get these perks in one of two ways. Either they promoted me to an employee and deliberately gave me power, or I had to squeeze in. In a word, hackers.

I simply don't have time to convince the admin to give me privileges. Black it is.

Unfortunately, it's not that easy either. The simplest form of attack I've encountered is SQL injection, which requires them to have a security vulnerability on the front end of the website. I'm disappointed that no matter what software they're running, it does a good job of masking its tracks. All inputs are processed and all backdoors are closed. I need another vector, not just to force my way in and steal the database.

If the direct approach doesn't work, I thought, why not imitate it? Anyone in power, whether aristocratic or executive, will not really understand everyone in their own class. If I can get the server to hand over the data to me cleanly, I don't need to pull the data.

The rain crackled against the window, and my mind changed. The morning shift staff at the restaurant occasionally gave me a curious look, but that was about it. I'm guessing they're used to this behavior, with a guy sitting in a corner typing angrily. They may think I'm studying or doing something else related to the class. As long as they had empty tables and didn't have a lot of traffic, I didn't expect to be disturbed.

That means it's time to really get to work.

A quick look at the site's public registration reveals the owner of the domain name – and more importantly, his email address. Due to the provisions of the Internet registration system, this information is relatively guaranteed to be up-to-date. Now, I just wish he was as lazy as the other server admins I've met.

I scraped several databases that my automated server had gobbled up in the last day's scan and started querying if they matched email addresses. In the second database, I get a match, in the third database, I get another match, a table that doesn't hold its password correctly. Amateurs. Within minutes, I got the administrator's password – and as my luck grew, he wasn't as security-conscious as the person who wrote the forum software. His email password is the same as the password for the account in the database.

Unfortunately, it doesn't work with SFFHave

The admin accounts don't match, that's my real goal. There are a few more steps to be taken before I can access my target, and SFFHave

Password recovery is not provided for the administrator level. I don't seem to have a technical option, but with his email account, I'm suddenly a lot more powerful than I was a few minutes ago.

I opened his mail and started searching. with SFFHave

, moderators, logs, users, etc. I need to find someone else with permission. I can trick him into handing over the keys. After about 15 minutes of digging, I found another administrator who seemed to be easily deceived. There were multiple instances of a quick email exchange where the second admin asked for a quick password reset for my stolen identity. They even mailed passwords back and forth in plaintext.

Just in case, I tried the last password, but it didn't work. That didn't stop me. It took me a few minutes to write a message before sending it out.

A PW reset is required. I couldn't get in, I was on my way but someone emailed me about what happened. You can log in and set up CHA

geme123

I hope the all-lowercase and no punctuation gives a sense of urgency. Emergencies often make people ignore proper etiquette, which is exactly what I need. Luckily, the admin seemed to be located on the east coast, so my unfortunate target had woken up and the email was received almost immediately. A few minutes later, I received a reply and I took a bite into a piece of cold crispy bacon.

It's done. The password is set to cha

geme123

Thanks to God stupid forum administrators. After confirming that it was indeed reset, I quickly sent an email to say thank you. I now have access to the appropriate logs for the entire board and all members present. It's time to start digging.

＊＊＊

I had a sharp headache in my head. It could be dehydration, or maybe it was just starvation, but in any case, it seriously impaired my ability to read on my laptop screen.

When the restaurant started to get more crowds, I switched the location to a public library. After a short ride in the pouring rain, I sat comfortably in the corner of the stack of books. When I arrived, the library had just opened, and the better chairs were opened. I sat down gratefully, opened my laptop, and continued my search.

My newsletter emails and usernames are easy to find, but they're one-off names that barely connect them to any existing identity. Instead, I hit the jackpot when I used his most commonly used login IP address. As soon as I checked the location services, my jaw dropped.

It can be traced back to Melbridge, Oregon. The suburb where we lived.

This can't be a coincidence. I wonder if he happened to use an agent that traveled through my hometown. The accuracy of the IP lookup service cannot exceed 12 miles, but this is sufficient. I have a better idea of the person's position, and I can narrow it down further with some painstaking cross-comparisons.

This feels like a good sign. I'm on the right track. Of course, people with practical knowledge of Serraville will live in this area; Serraville Park and all the important forests are here.

In addition to the headache, my eyes hurt a lot. Frequent changes in light levels didn't help either. I try to give my eyes a break often, but there's only so much I can do when I have to spend a lot of time navigating long lists of timestamps, shuttling between social networks, trying to narrow down one person in town.

I track down my former potential allies online. The account he used to contact me was a one-time deal, but according to my investigation, it wasn't his only account on the site. I started comparing the login times of users who frequently visit the same forum one by one. It's just a matter of time, I'll be able to find a match soon. There must be one who is him.

Whenever I find a potential match, I go through their post history. Any trace of personal information, even the tiniest detail, can be identified. I'll follow up on any leads. I would dig into search engines and social networks, picking from public directories and records. Anyone I find who doesn't live nearby, I file them first, focusing on those who have potential within the city limits.

It's a frustrating, boring job that, so far, makes no sense at all. But I can't give up. In any case, I will find this man and he will tell me everything he knows about Serraville. Then, finally, we go back. We would leave this place forever.

I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes, hoping for a much-needed respite. I really needed a better night's sleep than in the woods. Thankfully, it didn't rain, but I still wasn't very comfortable outside. I'm not Jane. I don't like the Silph tree. Do they worship them? I don't know. I'll figure it out when I get back.

I wish I could talk to her. Since we came back, every time we saw each other it was painful, either losing or arguing. When I was leaving the day before, the police came and we broke up as friends, but there was a barrier between us. I couldn't face her anymore, especially if my efforts were fruitless. I had to prove her wrong. Prove them all wrong.

Hearing Jane on Matt's side made my body ache. She could have pierced me in the gut with that arrow, but I didn't think it would hurt that much. In any case, not in the long run. She clearly belonged to Serraville; Why can't she understand as much as I do? In those seven years, she has adapted faster and more thoroughly than any of us. Is it just because Matt insists on staying that she doesn't think so?

My mind was in turmoil. I've gone through the same thought process dozens of times since I left. I needed something new before I drove myself crazy. It's painful to have no one to talk to. Sure, I have a couple of other friends online, but I'm not sure who I can talk to. If the police had linked Matt to Black so quickly and searched Siravel from Black's computer, who could say they hadn't tracked down the rest of our chat room? For the foreseeable future, my friends are off-limits.

I'm alone. I hate being alone.

In the past, I was the only one who could handle it. Most of the time, the conversations on the web were enough to feed my brain, and the rest of the time was filled with school. But I haven't lived like this in a long time. I've gotten used to the constant contact and interaction I have in my life in Serraville, where I have men to command, commoners to please, political affairs, courtship, genuinely passionate romances, and a myriad of things to deal with. I learned to thrive there, and now that I'm back, it's hard for my brain to tune into the speed of life that my original body expects.

I need to talk to someone before I get out of hand.

Finally I called the only person I could call, the last one I hadn't driven away, someone I knew I could still trust.

After a few rings, she picked up the phone, her voice sleepy and confused. “…… Hello?"

"Hello, Sarah. Please don't hang up," I said quickly.

Sarah's voice quickly sharpened. I was impressed. "Wait, who is this?"

"This is Carl. Jane's ...... Friend. We met the other day. ”

"Okay." All the sounds that had just woken up had disappeared, she said. "Then why did you call me at 7 a.m.?"

"I'm sorry. Did I wake you up?"

"Hmm...... Yes. Is something wrong?"

I suddenly realized how pointless this conversation was. Sara doesn't know anything. If I can't mention Serravel, what else can I talk to her? My current experience of being stalked online is nothing but bizarre and creepy.

Well, yes, in context, it doesn't look much better, but it's all worth it. I didn't hurt anyone. I would get the information I needed and then I would disappear from this world and in the end no one would know.

"No, nothing, I just-"

"Listen, Jane called last night. She said the police want to see you. ”

Well, I guess Jane has no reservations about chatting with her friends. As usual, she was braver than me. “…… Yes. Do you know Blake Swassam?"

"Yes. Jane told me about him. Sarah's voice softened, though it was hard to tell. As good as my phone may be, no matter how good the call is, it doesn't fully convey the full range of the sound. There's no substitute for hearing someone else's voice in person, or seeing body language, facial expressions. Serravel has magic to make it all pass. This is another reason why this world is bad.

"That's why they want to talk. They're investigating what happened to him. ”

"Oh." Sarah paused. "Do you need help?"

“…… Well? Why do I need help?" I don't want her to get involved in unnecessary things. Jane certainly didn't want her to get in trouble. Besides, it's too cruel to bring Sarah closer to us if we're going to disappear. It is better for her friends to disappear again than to force her to face the truth and the danger.

"You've skipped school twice and the police are looking for you." Sarah paused. "It's just a sacrifice."

"No, I'm fine."

"Then why are you calling?"

"I don't ......" how can I explain it to her without telling her anything? It simply won't work. I just made things worse. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called. ”

"No, wait. I'm sorry. Only...... Talk to me?"

What should I say? Can't think of anything.

"Are you still there?" Carl?"

"It's still here." I say.

"Look," she hesitated. "I know you're going through a lot of pain right now, and a whole bunch of things that I can't understand. Remember, you still have friends, okay?"

Then again, what exactly do I want to get out of this conversation? It didn't work out – and worse, I felt terrible because I pulled Sara into our circle.

"Okay. I have to go. Sorry to wake you up. Before she could interject, I hung up. I put the phone on the table and stared at it as if it had betrayed me.

I said to myself, it was futile and dangerous. You don't understand her. Jane trusts her, but can you? Jane had seen the wrong person before. You've seen the results with your own eyes, even now that the scars are gone.

Go back to work. I picked up my laptop again and sat back in my comfy chair. I'm going to find this guy, at all costs.

＊＊＊

Quick, fast. I set up some macros to help me with some tasks. There are also some that are too difficult to automate, so I have to run them manually. One identity after another, one person after another. If necessary, I will read each one. No one is off-limits, no one is out of reach. People all over the world put their personal lives online, and it would be hell if I didn't abuse it.

A few minutes after that disastrous phone call with Sarah, I moved again. I wanted to go on, but I felt too uncomfortable. Too paranoid. A change of environment allowed me to refocus. I found myself at a fast food restaurant again, sitting and gobbling up chips. Soon, I went deep into the database again, and suddenly, out of nowhere, I found him.

He's right there. It's the closest I've come to matching. His login and logout times coincided very well with the anonymous user I've been contacting. He even lives on the other side of town, towards Serraville Park. Daniel Whitman, 22. A student who, judging by his social profile, does not have particularly active friendships. Everyone said he was a loner. His feed only has automatic birthday reminders and similar posts.

He looks like the guy I'm looking for, but I haven't gotten any of his handle yet. All of his privacy settings are correct, so I can't get any information from him without a connection. There was no way to get him to give me more details, and there was no personal information that I could use to make use of. If I want to force him to speak, I'll have to get closer.

I checked his list of friends. One of them definitely has something I can use. I started adding random people, and a significant number of people accepted it almost immediately. People who value quantity over quality. I rolled my eyes, but started digging into their post anyway. It's still not fast enough, and I'm frustrated with the monotony. I wrote a script, and in no time, my machines automatically turned back to their entire online history, vacuuming through the dusty and discarded corners of the internet, absorbing everything.

Once I downloaded all the materials and searched for their past, it was much easier to have any Whitman-related materials. There, his home was mentioned. Another one for his pet. Happy birthday to grandma. More small letters and personal information that I can use.

I went back to Whitman's profile and tried to log in. I wasn't surprised that his password didn't work, but I now have another way. I clicked on his security question and prayed for a match for the information I was getting.

The world is finally on my side again. As soon as I saw the first question – the name of his first pet – I laughed. The rest is also very simple.

A few seconds later, I was logged in as Whitman.

After a few seconds, I found his home address. His phone number. All.

I leaned back on the hard plastic bench, gasping for air. I felt like I had run a marathon, even though I had been sitting motionless for more than an hour.

What should I do next?

I didn't even think about what to do with it once I got Whitman's message. I know who he is and where he is, but how can I take advantage of that?

Should I extort?

Worthless. Even with all his personal information, nothing is really ransom material. I have no proof, no chips. So far, he's been cautious, but I doubt just mentioning his name in our conversation will make much of a difference. Regardless, he seems to be a normal college student who lives alone.

The compulsion to hide behind a screen won't work. I needed something more direct.

I had already pieced together a plan in my head, even when the idea was first formed. I know where he lives. That's enough for me to take action. Before I went in, I needed something to understand his life more thoroughly. I had to be all-encompassing, just in case. I have to be ready for everything.

quid pro quo, Daniel Whitman? You'll regret it.

I think back to his story, to recall his life, a person he didn't know suddenly became the most important person in this world.