Dimensional Hotel

Li Lin was jolted awake from a deep sleep by the shrill ringing of his phone. Along with the ringtone, a sudden sense of alarm surged from deep within his intuition.

As a highly trained operative of the Special Affairs Bureau, he instantly realized that something was amiss. In a flash, he was wide awake, leaping off the bed in his temporary rental. Grabbing his phone from the bedside table, he dashed toward the window overlooking the street.

“This is Li Lin,” he answered swiftly, sitting by the window and pointing a complex lens device toward the street below. “What’s happening?”

Song Cheng’s voice came through the earpiece, unusually serious. “Do you observe anything on your end?”

Li Lin focused on the lights and shadows refracted through his lens device, stealing a quick glance at his laptop that was automatically monitoring data. Scrolling rapidly through the logs, he replied quickly, “All surveillance data is normal. There was a minor energy fluctuation at 1 a.m.—a small, periodic ‘surge’ typical of the Boundary Zone…”

“Xu Jiali has already set out and should be arriving at your location shortly,” Song Cheng said gravely. “Maintain surveillance of the neighborhood, but don’t step outside even if you notice anything. Report immediately—remember, until Xu Jiali arrives, do not leave the base alone!”

“Ah? Oh, got it!” Li Lin was momentarily stunned but quickly agreed. He couldn’t help but ask, “What’s actually going on?”

“The Boundary Zone is experiencing large-scale temporal and spatial dislocations and resets for unknown reasons, occurring every five to ten minutes.”

Ignoring Li Lin’s exclamation, Song Cheng hung up the phone. He took a deep breath and looked up at the massive screen at the end of the command hall.

The screen displayed a flat map of the entire “Boundary City.” Beyond the map was a three-dimensional structure constructed from countless curves and symbols, along with a flood of monitoring data and remote surveillance signals updating rapidly.

The vast command hall was brightly lit. Special Affairs Bureau staff in black uniforms stared intently at screens at various terminals. Occasionally, someone would enter or exit the hall through side doors, conveying information from other departments or bringing more bad news.

“There have been a few minor temporal and spatial dislocations in the past two days, but none were this large or happened this frequently,” a female staff member in a black professional suit muttered softly behind Song Cheng. “The Boundary Zone’s temporal and spatial structure is unique; such occurrences aren’t unprecedented, so the initial alert level wasn’t high…”

“Now it seems more like some kind of probing before a large-scale operation,” another voice chimed in. “They’re officially starting now… Damn, we were careless.”

Just then, a report came from one of the terminals, interrupting the conversation behind Song Cheng. “Detected a rift forming! It’s pointing to Chawen-b, but precise coordinates are still unconfirmed… Attempting to trace the source!”

Song Cheng frowned deeply, saying nothing as he silently counted in his mind.

A dozen seconds later, he heard the follow-up report:

“Rift closed! Trace failed! Temporal and spatial structure restored!”

Such reports had been repeated many times in the hall—occurring every few minutes.

The intervals weren’t very stable but generally under ten minutes. Each event’s duration wasn’t precise but never exceeded thirty seconds. It seemed deliberate, but… what was the point of doing this? More importantly… who could accomplish something so outrageous?!

“Detected a rift forming! Pointing to Bailong-c, precise coordinates still unconfirmed, attempting to trace…”

“Rift closed! Trace failed…”

Song Cheng’s frown deepened. Just then, a faint humming sound interrupted his thoughts. The next second, a screen beside him lit up.

A woman who appeared to be under thirty, with dignified features but a cold demeanor, appeared on the screen.

She wore a white suit, her ash-gray hair tied into a loose ponytail behind her head. Her eyes were an unusual pale gray, with very light-colored pupils, giving her an overall impression of lacking color.

The moment he saw her, Song Cheng visibly straightened his back, a slightly stiff, wry smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.

“Director,” Song Cheng greeted her. “We’re still tracking…”

“What’s the current situation?” The gray-haired, gray-eyed woman, referred to as the Director, interrupted him, her voice cold and calm.

“Rifts are still forming and disappearing continuously. We still can’t trace their source, but we can basically confirm that the phenomenon is harmless to the Boundary Zone itself—the temporal and spatial structure hasn’t been damaged.”

“Not damaged?”

“Yes. Although we’re temporarily classifying these rifts as ‘temporal and spatial dislocations,’ it’s only because they superficially resemble such phenomena. What those things actually are… is hard to say,” Song Cheng said wryly. “Each time they form, it’s not really tearing space-time but rather…”

He hesitated for a moment, recalling the description given by the technical experts earlier. He continued, “It feels as if that’s the original structure of space-time—as if the moment the rift forms, it’s a stable passage that has always existed in the Boundary Zone leading elsewhere. When the rift closes, it’s as if it never appeared—no shockwaves, no catastrophic collapses. So far, we haven’t received any reports of casualties.”

The gray-haired woman listened quietly, not speaking for a long time.

Song Cheng remained silent as well, patiently waiting.

“The ‘special location’ you had people monitor earlier—has there been any change?”

“No. It’s currently the most ‘calm’ place in the entire Boundary City—so calm it’s like a black hole,” Song Cheng sighed. “That’s what’s most abnormal. Everyone knows there’s definitely something wrong over there, but the biggest problem is that we can’t see any problems—I’ve dispatched the best deep diver from the Second Squad, and also arranged for two additional surveillance teams to approach that street from other directions…”

“What do you think the person doing this is trying to achieve?” the gray-haired woman suddenly asked.

“Hard to say,” Song Cheng pondered cautiously. “At first, I thought it was some kind of attack, but now it seems they’re just continuously opening and closing rifts. An entire night has almost passed, and they haven’t even disturbed anyone…”

“Could it be some new ‘Dark Angel’ phenomenon?”

“Probably not. When a Dark Angel appears, it’s always accompanied by large-scale out-of-control events in Otherworlds and widespread damage in the present world—it wouldn’t be this ‘harmless,'” Song Cheng immediately shook his head. “Besides, we haven’t received any reports about those angel cultists recently. If a new Dark Angel had appeared, those zealots wouldn’t be this quiet.”

“As long as it’s not a Dark Angel, that’s good.”

“Yeah, as long as it’s not a Dark Angel,” Song Cheng sighed. “But then again, if this is ‘human’-made, then… what kind of ‘person’ are we dealing with? They’re causing such a big stir—what are they trying to do…”

His last words were more to himself. After a few seconds of contemplation, the gray-haired woman broke the silence.

“This world is vast, with many groups and ancient entities we have yet to encounter,” she said softly. Despite her youthful appearance, her words inadvertently revealed a sense of timelessness. “And our universe is still young; many ‘laws’ and ‘principles’ have yet to form… Learn to adapt, Song. Our work has never been about dealing with the ‘known.'”

“…I understand.”

The gray-haired woman nodded. Suddenly sensing something, she looked up in a certain direction—her almost colorless pale eyes fixed for a moment. Then she softly broke the silence, “It’s calming down.”

Song Cheng raised his head, looking around the hall.

No new reports of rifts forming came in.

…

A specific pattern of knocks sounded at the door. Standing by the entrance, Li Lin used his intuitive sense to confirm the aura outside before stepping aside and opening the door.

A burly man, nearly two meters tall, ducked his head to squeeze into the rented apartment, dragging behind him a large black case that matched his massive build.

“Your place is really cramped,” the big man commented, glancing back at Li Lin, who stood by the door. “Even tighter than the landing pod I was in two days ago.”

Li Lin rolled his eyes. “It’s still more spacious than that junk car of yours—you managed to drive it all the way from the Bureau, so stop complaining about my place.”

The big man chuckled, pushing his heavy case against the wall and settling himself on the living room sofa. He let out a long, satisfied sigh.

“Alright, at least it’s a place fit for humans. This sofa is way more comfortable than the hard rocks and scorching sand on Aimeen IX.”

Li Lin watched the scene with a bit of exasperation.

This was Xu Jiali, the most outstanding and experienced deep diver of the Second Action Squad of the Special Affairs Bureau.

He wasn’t quite comfortable interacting with this burly man.

Mainly because on his first day joining the squad, Li Lin had seen the roster with the name “Xu Jiali” and had been asking around about her. Then, during orientation, a towering figure of nearly 1.98 meters had walked up, clapped him on the shoulder, and introduced himself in a booming voice as Xu Jiali—that self-introduction had been so loud it rang in his ears. Even now, Li Lin would flinch upon seeing him.

But Mr. Xu Jiali himself was completely unaware of this. He had lived with this name for thirty years and was long accustomed to it…

There’s a saying that goes something like—The Second Squad of the Special Affairs Bureau is a place where hidden dragons and crouching tigers reside…

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