Chapter 102: Soul Lending

Mike walked along the streets of the Lower District.

What was once a bustling commercial street was now nothing but a ghost town. The neon signs on both sides of the road had long since gone dark, and the storefronts were filled with discarded junk and debris.

Mike remembered clearly—just two months ago, even the cheapest shop on this street cost at least 8,000 credit points per month in rent.

But as the conflict between the Upper and Lower Districts escalated, business on the street gradually declined.

Then came the decree demanding thirty years’ worth of taxes in advance, and the subsequent invasion of the caves by law enforcement.

The shopkeepers had either been taken to the Paradise Compute Center or fled into the underground caves. Since then, the commercial street had been abandoned.

Back then, Mike had considered himself superior as a Central District resident. He looked down on the people of the Lower District.

Now, ironically, he found himself envying them—at least they could escape into the caves, unlike him, who could only stand by helplessly as his parents, brother, friends, and colleagues were all dragged into the Paradise Compute Center… and soon, it would be his turn.

Thinking about it made Mike curse out loud.

“Damn that Energy Tax! Damn that Paradise Compute Center!”

Just as he shouted, a cold wind swept down the silent street, chilling him to the bone.

“Achoo!”

“It’s summer… why the hell is it this cold?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Mike couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right on this street.

But he was already here—it was too late to turn back now.

Gritting his teeth, he muttered to himself, “If something happens, at worst, I die! Better that than suffering in the Paradise Compute Center.”

Scanning the buildings around him, he stepped into an abandoned clubhouse.

The moment he entered, that eerie chill intensified, seeping into his soul and freezing him from the inside out.

“Anyone here?”

He called out cautiously, eyes scanning the disordered remains inside.

A hoarse voice echoed in reply.

“This isn’t a place you should be.”

Startled, Mike spun around—only to find a shadowy figure shrouded in black mist standing behind him.

It was Lu Yan, who had secretly returned to the surface in disguise.

Mike tried to suppress his fear, but his voice still trembled slightly.

“I saw online… You guys offer loans, right?”

Lu Yan gave Mike a once-over, slightly surprised that his wide-reaching net had caught someone this quickly. Then, in a deliberately hoarse tone, he spoke again.

“So, a client.”

“Come with me.”

Lu Yan led the way into the depths of the ruined clubhouse.

Mike followed closely, stepping through several rooms until they reached a surprisingly clean office.

Seated behind a desk, Lu Yan asked:

“Do you know the rules of our lending service?”

Mike nodded quickly. “I saw online… you guys can help avoid being sent to the Paradise Compute Center. I’m short 250,000 credit points—if you could lend me—”

Lu Yan rapped the table, interrupting him.

“You seem to be misunderstanding something. When I said we could help with the Paradise Compute Center, I didn’t mean lending you money to pay the Energy Tax.”

Mike froze.

“Not money? Then what do you lend?”

Lu Yan laced his fingers together, a faint chuckle escaping his lips.

“The Paradise Compute Center has only ever craved one thing—your soul. And our company just happens to solve that problem.”

“Because what we lend… is the soul.”

“Soul lending?”

Mike stared in disbelief.

Clap! Clap!

Lu Yan clapped his hands.

To Mike’s horror, a transparent humanoid outline began to materialize in the air. The shape grew more defined, gradually becoming a ghostly figure with a menacing face and a murderous aura.

Its claw-like fingers gleamed like blades, and a strange totem was branded on its chest.

The chilling aura radiating from the spirit made Mike tremble uncontrollably, as if he were facing a beast hungry for his soul.

“This is the soul we provide. Once you borrow it, it can replace you in the Paradise Compute Center, doing all the exhausting daily labor—freeing your body and mind.”

Mike gulped.

The spirit was terrifying, yes—but what was more terrifying was the Paradise Compute Center.

Every year, people died from mental overload due to soul computation. If borrowing this spirit could truly lighten that burden…

“Then what are the conditions to borrow a soul from your platform?”

Lu Yan tossed a contract onto the table. It outlined the terms of the soul lending agreement.

Condition One: Upon death, the borrower’s soul becomes the property of the platform.
Condition Two: The borrower must worship the totem daily after borrowing.
Condition Three: The borrower must not disclose any information about the lending process.

Mike skimmed through the contract. With his years of experience as a corporate drone, he knew this wasn’t exactly a legally airtight contract—and the conditions were harsh.

But he didn’t care anymore.

If he couldn’t survive the Compute Center, then what did it matter what happened after he died?

He picked up the pen and signed.

After signing, he looked up and asked:

“What exactly is this ‘totem’ mentioned in the contract?”

Lu Yan raised his hand. A small black flag, no larger than a palm, floated down from the surrounding ghostly mist.

“This is the platform’s totem. Take it home and worship it daily.”

Mike nodded, half-understanding.

The moment he picked up the black flag, the ghostly spirit silently walked toward him and faded into his body.

“The loan is complete. You can go now.”

Suppressing his excitement, Mike held the black flag tightly and walked toward the door.

But just before stepping out, he turned and asked:

“Sir… What’s the name of your soul lending platform?”

Lu Yan paused, then said calmly:

“You may call us—Netherworld.”

(End of Chapter)