Chapter 72: Moonlight Foxtrot
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: PlumSauce
“At first, there were about ten of them, and now they have begun to breed. Because creatures in this world can learn, the designers even gave them the ability to reproduce.”
Coraci poked at the wings of the giant bat-people with a stick, then continued, “I heard the ‘giant bat-people’ were designed to be the most common enemies, so their parameters are the most complete. They’re so well-designed that they can even reproduce on their own, and their hunting skills continue to improve.”
Mark and Alette exchanged a glance.
“Excuse me, who are you? A Ranger?” Alette asked.
Coraci was about to answer when John spoke first. “He’s a colleague of mine.”
“Oh, so he’s the one you were looking for?”
“No, I’m looking for two girls. This is someone from another department.”
“I’m Coraci Devlin,” Coraci introduced himself and shook hands with the people he had just met. “Let’s find somewhere suitable to talk. Obviously, we all have information about this space that needs to be shared.”
They returned to the village and found an empty building that looked like a tavern. On the way, John kept staring at Coraci as he walked behind him, afraid it might be a hallucination.
John had imagined what reuniting with Coraci would be like — either mysterious, like a scene from a spy film, or romantic, like a hug in a square filled with white doves. He had never imagined running into Coraci so casually, and that the first thing they would discuss after greeting each other would be the case at hand.
He wanted to get close to the past — closer still. He wanted to hold Coraci, ask him where he had been these past three years, what he had experienced, and, if possible, try to kiss him again — he probably wouldn’t refuse… but the atmosphere now was entirely inappropriate for any of that. John felt a little frustrated.
“This is a large ‘sandbox space’, right?” Coraci asked, sitting on a stool made from a split log in the slightly low-ceilinged room.
Alette and Mark were surprised. They had assumed outsiders wouldn’t know the term.
The Engrity company had once developed a device that guided people’s senses into an illusory experience, similar to hypnosis, allowing them to experience dreamlike adventures in a virtual scenario. It wasn’t some simple gadget with 3D glasses and electrodes — it was based on ancient magic, capable of temporarily immersing a person’s soul into a “sandbox space”.
In the ancient magical texts, it was called the “Soul-Transfer Lock.” Later, the magic became known as “sandbox space”, a term derived from sandplay therapy. (Note 1)
There were two modes of sandbox space. One was called the Simulated Sandbox, which only allowed the consciousness to enter. Everything pre-set inside cannot be altered; while the spell is active, even the caster themselves cannot change the prearranged elements unless the spell is interrupted.
The other mode was larger and more realistic, called the Physical Sandbox, with a sense of a miniature world. A person could enter through a rift, attempt to influence it from within, change it, or even live there.
The drawbacks of the Physical Sandbox were obvious. It required a sufficiently large open area to serve as a cultivation pool. The sandbox space wasn’t purely virtual; it was semi-real, essentially “raising” the space on the other side of the rift on the empty plot. The size of the cultivation pool affected both the size and realism of the sandbox space.
While the spell persisted, the real-world area used as the pool disappeared, replaced by the designed sandbox space. It acted like an invisible three-dimensional exchange, obscuring and displacing a corner of the real world.
Listening to the three of them discuss, John remembered the basement of the telecom company building and the suburban factory being merged into one. Clearly, the caster of this space had employed some tricks, connecting the two locations and enlarging the cultivation pool.
“At first, the designers only created Simulated Sandboxes,” Alette said. Seeing her new companion was so knowledgeable, she no longer held back. “Only consciousness could enter; participants couldn’t alter the designed elements. But the flow of time inside the simulated sandbox differed too much from the real world, which caused the subject’s mind to break down.”
“You were one of the developers?” Coraci asked.
Alette touched her nose. “Mm…yes. I only worked on the construction details.”
“Simulated Sandboxes could drive people insane, so someone decided to study Physical Sandboxes instead?”
“Yeah. A Simulated Sandbox can let a person experience a lifetime in about ten minutes, which overloads the brain. In our experiments, even using it once a day was enough to cause sensory confusion. Later, our team leader shifted focus to Physical Sandboxes. Time there still runs differently than in the real world, but the difference is smaller, making it much safer. Plus, the participant can influence the world with their actions and leave whenever they want by finding a rift.”
“Participants? Someone actually experiences this?” John couldn’t help asking.
“Of course,” the girl explained. “Sandbox space is powerful ancient magic. It requires a ton of magical instruments and materials… Nowadays, technology and chemical substitutes can do the job, but it’s still a hassle. I don’t cast spells myself, but I’ve learned the principles. The thing is, it’s so complicated to use that it’s nearly useless in today’s society.
“Want to trap your enemy inside? No. An empty, simplistic sandbox space is obvious to anyone; it can’t be used to imprison or deceive. Designing a fully detailed, internally consistent world just to do that? Too much work — you’re better off using a gun or a lethal curse on your enemy.
“So now, this magic has basically become an entertainment device. Imagine entering a world filled with bunny girls, or having a grand adventure with a fellowship through Middle-earth — it’s way more fun.” (Note 2)
“No wonder the Engrity company went under,” Coraci said, looking up in admiration.
“Why?” John asked. Saying it aloud, he felt a strange familiarity, as if things were just like old times: Coraci would state an observation or conclusion, and he would ask why.
“Using this ancient magic is like burning money,” Coraci said. “Not counting the difficulty of casting, just the instruments and materials for a large Physical Sandbox cost about as much as building a kilometer of subway. Smaller or Simulated Sandboxes are a bit cheaper. Just imagine that.”
John thought for a moment. “…How much does it cost to build a kilometer of subway?”
“Never mind. Just know it’s expensive.”
“We’re here to clean up the mess,” Mark interjected. “Our boss went to jail…for financial reasons. When Engrity laid off its employees, they didn’t properly handle the cultivation pool. This large Physical Sandbox kept growing out of control, the creatures inside multiplying, and the space began to tear in all directions.”
Things from the sandbox appeared in the real world, and real-world creatures could enter the sandbox. Since the rift locations were hidden, it was difficult for people who entered to find the correct exit, and creatures that escaped to the real-world caused problems — like those giant bat-people.
Alette and Mark had entered voluntarily to investigate, because there was no way to stop the sandbox space otherwise.
This kind of magic could only be halted by its caster. The problem was…their team leader was in prison. Moreover, a normal, legal prison — nothing supernatural. You couldn’t exactly tell a parole officer, “Please let me out for a few days; I need to stop a spell.”
Without the caster, stopping the sandbox required all the designed creatures inside to either leave…or die.
“Designed creatures” were the primary lifeforms created within the space, intended to handle the majority of interactions with participants. These include, for example, virtual virgins in a heaven-like illusion, giant monsters in a jungle pursuit scenario, shirtless drows in the torture chambers of Menzoberranzan1, and so on.
As designed creatures decreased, the sandbox space would collapse faster and eventually vanish.
“Our plan,” Alette said, “is to kill anything potentially dangerous, like orcs, giant bat-people, frenzied zombies, and venom-toothed coyotes. Then we move the harmless ones, like gentleman rabbits, winged mountain cats, or little house elves.”
“Move them?” John asked. “You mean…into the real world?”
“Yes.”
“They can continue to exist there? You…just let them loose?”
“They can survive, but they’ll be weaker than in the sandbox. For instance, in the real world, the rabbits will run much slower, and the little house elves won’t have magic, they can’t even whip up an egg pudding.”
“After bringing them into the real world — and then what?”
“We hand them over to you,” Alette replied matter-of-factly. “Aren’t you the ones who specialize in containing and helping these creatures?”
John shot her an incredulous look. She acted as if it were perfectly normal.
“Besides the giant bat-people, what else could be here?” Coraci asked.
“Not much,” the girl said. “There were never many ordinary animals. The sandbox was left unattended for too long, and many were killed by evil creatures. Now we just need to eliminate the evil ones. The tricky part is that the boss created golems here. Those don’t die on their own; we have to find and deal with them ourselves.”
Coraci nodded. “I came here to investigate those creatures as well. Though I didn’t expect a sandbox space.”
In the later half of the night, Alette and Mark moved their camping tents into the tavern to rest, planning to continue the search tomorrow. John and Coraci would join them. With enough time, a thorough search wasn’t difficult; after all, the sandbox space was a limited area. Coraci had once entered a seemingly vast forest; no matter how he walked, he would randomly appear on the other side of the same space, unable to leave the forest, guided by the paths to loop back. This was because its size was fixed.
Lost hunters were one thing — they could eventually be found and escorted out. The real problem was dealing with the multitude of fantastical creatures within.
John didn’t need sleep for the time being. When he saw Coraci step out of the wooden door, he followed him out.
They stood side by side under the weathered wooden sign, its letters blurred, gazing at the enormous full moon hanging in the sandbox sky.
“You seem to have a lot you want to ask,” Coraci said.
John scratched his head and looked down. “Uh…yeah. I don’t even know where to start.” He wanted to know why Coraci had come here and what he’d been doing these past three years. Then he realized a more immediate question hovering before him. “By the way…why can’t I feel you?”
“It’s because you’re inside a sandbox space,” Coraci explained. “It’s different from the real world, so you can’t sense me approaching. Once we step outside, you’ll feel it.”
John wanted to ask, What about the bond? but hesitated. It sounded too self-important, like he cared too much about the absolute authority it gave him. Before he could ponder further, Coraci spoke first.
“Command me to dance?”
“What? Why?” John’s eyes went wide.
“Because I don’t dance and I don’t like dancing,” Coraci said with a smile, standing before him. “Every party in my memory ended in embarrassment for me because of it. I wouldn’t dance voluntarily. But if you tell me to — and I actually do it — it proves the bond’s control is still active. I just want to try it.”
John glanced around, listening briefly at the wooden door — they were asleep, the duo from the Engrity company, breathing evenly. Then he reached for Coraci’s hand, clearing his throat. “Dance with me.”
Coraci looked at him, half amused, half exasperated. “With you?”
He said it as he placed one hand in John’s palm, the other on his shoulder.
John stepped close, wrapping his arms around Coraci’s back. “You’re not pretending? This… The bond’s effect is still working?”
“It is. Absolutely,” Coraci said. “I’ve never danced; many can vouch for that.”
John smiled and led him through a few foxtrot steps.
“You can dance?” Coraci asked, surprised.
“Of course. My mother taught me when I was little. She always said it would come in handy for a man.”
“I nearly forgot… You’re a bloodkin over a hundred years old.”
Coraci stumbled through even the slowest beats, so he was mostly just held upright and moved along. “See, I can dance, but things I couldn’t do before…I still can’t.”
“Some things you’ve done,” John said, looking at him. “You’ve survived well, avoided people who might’ve looked for you, and now… You seem fine. You haven’t lost control.”
“I’ve lost control before,” Coraci said quietly. “But it got much better. I’ve grown skilled at managing the power, suppressing it as much as possible. I don’t use it lightly — once I do, it could flood out of control.”
“And the Eyes of Truth?” John asked, spinning Coraci so they stood in the center of the uneven road. Moonlight stretched their shadows long across the ground.
“Oh, that’s the most worth celebrating. They’ve recovered,” Coraci said, his dark eyes reflecting John’s face. “Maybe what’s inside me stabilized, my soul and body coordinated a little better. But it’s intermittent; if it fails, I have to be careful, prevent myself from losing control… it’s like an alarm.”
Before he finished, John pulled Coraci closer and pressed a gentle kiss to his eyelid. He felt John’s lips tremble, even though a bloodkin shouldn’t feel cold.
He understood why. From afar, even seeing John made him wildly excited — but once they were really talking, he couldn’t fully express it.
“So…now?” John asked. “What do I look like to you?”
“The same as before. Like when you first knocked on my door.”
Their foreheads touched. Coraci moved his other hand from John’s shoulder to the side of his neck. That familiar warmth nearly brought John to tears.
John tilted his head slightly and pressed his lips softly to Coraci’s. Their clasped hands loosened, becoming a mutual embrace.
Author’s Note:
Note 1: Sandbox therapy refers to the same concept as “sandplay therapy.”2 The two terms mean the same thing.
Actually, the concept of a “miniature garden” (or “box garden”)3 fits this space even better than “sandbox”, but the word “miniature garden” comes from Japanese. In Chinese, it refers to courtyard landscapes in a container. The term feels a little off in tone, so I stuck with “sandbox”.”
Note 2: Do I really need to explain the Middle-earth Fellowship…? (…Well, if you insist…) It’s just the story of happy little creatures sending the Ring-bearer into a volcano.
By the way, “Devlin” and “Deville” differ slightly…
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