Chapter Nineteen: The Blank Channel

“No, it’s not working—all the current files list the cause of disappearance as ‘unknown’...” he said, tilting his head back in resignation and sinking into the leather sofa, looking utterly exhausted. The situation before him was complete informational asymmetry; with the scant details at hand, he simply could not deduce the reason these people had vanished.

JIN, though aware that this matter was likely connected to Tetsuya Ark and R, knew both were far from ordinary: one a renowned psychology lecturer, the other a former agent.

“Hey, K...” JIN closed the file in his hands and sat up, saying, “You mentioned something not being observed, but the monitor only showed static?”

“Yeah...”

“If it was static...” JIN pondered aloud, pacing behind K as he chose his words carefully, “Then that means it was a blank channel... Could it be that information was transmitted to that blank channel?!”

K instantly straightened, excitement flashing in his eyes as he turned to JIN and ventured, “And that information guided the victims...”

He didn’t wait for JIN’s response. Swiftly, he flipped open his portable smart device, connected, and said, “DEUS Command, this is Agent K. Please assist in investigating whether the blank channel received any transmissions before the abduction incident!”

Meanwhile, deep underground, a complex of wholly futuristic buildings had been constructed. At its heart was a tunnel-like space, densely lined with countless display screens, each showing a different scene. The tunnel seemed infinitely long; no one knew where it led. So tightly kept was this secret, few even knew of its existence.

The tunnel stretched on, beyond the eye’s reach, the distant end a blinding expanse of interconnected screens. No one knew how many there were, but it was certain: for every living human, there was one screen. This was the center that monitored all of humanity, every action of every person clearly reflected on their respective screen.

The screens glowed ceaselessly, displaying without omission the entirety of a life—from birth to death.

Suspended in the tunnel’s center were several other screens, and suddenly, a synthesized male voice echoed through the space, “Shall we offer them assistance?”

A second voice, this one brash and swaggering, responded with a burst of wild laughter, then declared, “Let them have it! Everything is unfolding exactly as we planned!”

“That feeling of controlling everything... You could never imagine that, like an ant, you’re scouring the castle I built for you, searching desperately.”

“When you finally think you’ve found an exit... heh heh heh...”

“The source of the interfering broadcast has been located...”

K listened intently as DEUS Command relayed the search results: “The initial transmission occurred between midnight and 1:30 a.m., originating from 1-1-6, Shinkan District!”

K leapt to his feet, glanced at JIN, and the two exchanged nods before rushing out of the house. The location of the transmission had been confirmed—they had to go there themselves, no matter what.

Stepping outside, they realized night had begun to fall. The city’s evenings were cold; the sun had barely set, but its warmth had already vanished. Both JIN and K wore trench coats, suited to the season—and, of course, nearly the uniform of an agent.

In this world, the streets were so empty that they could drive their car at top speed, untroubled by traffic police or their dreaded tickets.

Cameras suspended in the air had only one purpose: not to catch traffic violations, but to monitor every human move.

In less than twenty minutes, JIN and K arrived at 1-1-6, Shinkan District.

They exchanged a look, hesitated only briefly, then K kicked open the door, raising his laser gun at everything in the room.

But inside, it looked more like a general store, or even an abandoned warehouse. It was hard to imagine anyone actually living here. Dust rose from the floor with JIN’s steps—it was clear the place hadn’t been cleaned in ages.

“How much can you sense of your own subconscious?”

JIN’s eyes landed on a white card lying on a thick tabletop. He picked it up and, reading the line written there, fell into thought.

“Escaped, did they...” K sighed with regret after searching the room.

But then he saw the card JIN handed him.

“What’s this?”

“No idea. Maybe it’s a message R left for us...” JIN replied helplessly. After all, their opponent was an agent too. Every agent received the harshest training; their skills went far beyond simple combat.

Reconnaissance, counter-surveillance, infiltration, disguise—they were all experts.

“Damn it... R was half a step ahead again!”

“Let’s pursue him at once...” K said with frustration. “R must have sent the message to the blank channel for the victims’ sake—there’s no doubt.”

Yet in the end, their efforts proved fruitless. With no other options, JIN and K returned to their base. R was an exceptional agent; compared to either JIN or K, he was in no way inferior. What’s more, he had the initiative. If he didn’t wish to be found, it was nearly impossible for JIN and K to track him down.

“A blank channel that received information, and yet all that’s played is static...”

“Yeah...” K, utterly dejected, sprawled on the sofa and sighed in despair, “What’s going on? The broadcast was definitely received by the blank channel, but why was there only static when it played?”

“What exactly did the victims see?”

“How were they lured?”

But this string of questions had no suitable answers.

After a moment’s silence, JIN murmured, “Maybe they weren’t lured at all...”

“Huh?” K looked up at him.

“At least, R doesn’t see it that way...” JIN mused, thoughts turning. The victims had all taken the ‘Boat’ to Utopia.

And the information they received was nothing more than Tetsuya Ark’s lecture—at the end, he instructed them to find a certain channel.

So what exactly was in that channel, compelling people to make up their minds, to truly believe that this was Utopia?