IBO -Chapter 37 Danger – Previous Timeline

This novel contains sensitive and taboo content like R*pe, Mu**er etc. Read only if you are comfortable.

System World, History Department, Director’s Office.

555 anxiously reported to the director, “Boss, 555’s signal has disappeared. I suspect something has happened to 555.”

Worried sick over 555’s situation, 555 spun around in circles in midair.

“Boss, let’s send rescue personnel to look for 555. 555 wasn’t very smart to begin with—who knows, maybe he’s trapped in some spacetime right now, secretly crying.”

Director 111 showed no reaction. Her fingers tapped rhythmically on the desk, while her other hand supported her forehead.

After a long while, 111 finally spoke. “This is the inevitability of history.”

“……Does 555 still have a chance to come back?”

“555, as an outstanding employee, you should understand this. Nothing can obstruct the course of history. 555 is a system chosen by history—he is destined to go through this.”

“I understand…” 555 left the office in a daze.

**Interstellar World, Nursery.**

“Love? Where am I supposed to find love? Is loving myself enough?”

Song Yiran looked at 555, tears continuously streaming from his hollow eyes.

“Of course loving yourself is fine, but Song Yiran—do you really love yourself?”

“…I, I of course… love myself…” Song Yiran felt his throat tighten, as if something were stuck there, yet he still forced out the words with difficulty.

555 countered, “Then what were you doing just now? You ignored your physical health, stuffing so much food into your mouth. When you couldn’t fit any more, you threw it all up—after vomiting, you stuffed more in again.

“Doing that—does that really count as loving yourself?”

“I… I don’t know. I really don’t know…”

Song Yiran collapsed. The mask he had put on was seen through at a glance by 555.

He clutched his hollow chest and broke down, crying loudly.

“Song Yiran, in your actions, you are not loving yourself.”

Song Yiran looked helplessly at 555, hoping 555 could give him an answer. “Then where should I look for love?”

555 thought for a moment. “Maybe we can talk about your dreams. Humans all have dreams buried deep in their hearts, and dreams are usually connected to the things they love.

“I think we can start from that angle.”

“My dream? I want to raise fluffy ones.”

Song Yiran recalled his former dream. He had once desperately wanted to keep fluffy pets, but back then his body wouldn’t allow it.

A flash of excitement passed through 555’s electronic eyes—he felt he had found the key point.

“Isn’t that perfect? You already have ready-made fluffies to raise! And there are a full three of them!

“There’ll be even more fluffies in the future! So cheer up—there are fluffies waiting for you to raise them.”

“You’re right. I have to pull myself together. The babies only have me. If I collapse, who will raise them?

“How will the babies survive in this interstellar world?”

Thinking of the three babies still waiting for him to support them, Song Yiran knew he had to keep going.

This was 555’s first mission, and also his first time interacting with humans. He didn’t understand human emotions, nor did he realize how dangerous it was to treat specific people as one’s sole spiritual support.

555 only knew that the host monitoring system was no longer issuing danger alerts, so he assumed everything was fine.

If it had been a slightly more experienced system, it would have seen immediately that Song Yiran’s condition was extremely dangerous.

The task of raising the babies was merely keeping Song Yiran’s last breath going. If anything happened to the babies, that breath keeping him alive would disappear as well.

Dawn broke. It wasn’t raining today. The morning sunlight shone through a hole in the ceiling and fell onto Song Yiran’s face.

He slowly opened his eyes. The sunlight made his eyes water uncontrollably, and he raised a hand to block it.

As he moved, the babies in his arms gradually woke up too, trailing behind him like little tails as they bustled around.

Today was another day of scavenging. Song Yiran originally planned to go scavenging with 555, but he couldn’t bear to leave the three babies here alone.

He sighed softly. Better to take them along.

The streets were bustling with people—of all kinds. Some had tentacles, some had wings, and some were entirely green.

Most, however, looked like humans on the surface, just like him.

Song Yiran whispered to 555 about the interstellar people around them. “555, compared to those people who look so strange, our babies aren’t that different. So why are they so unwelcome?”

555 explained, “Those strange-looking ones are aliens. In the interstellar era, cultures have long since merged. But our babies, at their core, aren’t aliens—they’re born from humans. Think about it. Both parents are human, yet the babies born don’t look human. That’s exactly why they’re rejected.”

Truly worthy of the interstellar era—on the streets you could see aliens from various planets.

Yet such a seemingly inclusive interstellar age couldn’t tolerate tiny little infants.

“555, then why do children born to humans who show atavism have animal bloodlines?

“Could it be that humans once intermarried with aliens? But if that’s the case, why are atavistic children still looked down upon?”

Song Yiran felt like he had grasped something crucial.

“I don’t know the exact reason either. I haven’t received information on that. The intel I have is limited. All I know is that what we need to do is raise the babies.”

Song Yiran felt he was about to catch hold of the thread hidden behind the mission. “Maybe this is the key point?

“If this belief were overturned, then those children wouldn’t be abandoned, and there wouldn’t be a need for us to raise them.”

“Probably not. Our task is just to raise the babies—why create extra trouble for ourselves?”

Song Yiran felt the task only treated the symptoms, not the root cause. “I think we need to solve the key issue first.

“Even if we manage to raise all the babies abandoned for this reason, as long as this belief still exists, there will always be an endless stream of babies abandoned for the same reason.”

“But what does that have to do with us? Our mission is only to raise the mission targets. Other matters don’t concern us.”

Song Yiran was unwilling to give up. “But—”

555’s tone turned completely emotionless. “Song Yiran, you cannot change this era.

“An individual’s power is useless before the course of history. Everything will proceed along its predetermined path.”

“But that’s not right. What if history itself is wrong?” Song Yiran frowned and retorted.

555 narrowed his electronic eyes at Song Yiran. “Song Yiran, by what authority do you judge whether history is right or wrong?”

“We only need to make sure history develops according to its predetermined course. Song Yiran, don’t do anything unnecessary.”

“And if I insist on doing it anyway?” Song Yiran gritted his teeth and forced the words out.

555 cleared its electronic throat, shattering Song Yiran’s naive thinking. “Wake up. What are you going to rely on to do it? Right now, you can barely survive by scavenging through trash. Even if one day you manage to gain a foothold in this world—then what? What are you planning to use to overturn the interstellar people’s way of thinking? Start a war? Hold protest marches? Or carry out a peaceful coup? Do you have any idea what consequences that would bring? You’ll become their target, and the children you’re raising will become thorns in their eyes. Can you, alone, fight against so many people?

This mindset has existed in the interstellar world for hundreds of years. Do you really think you can overturn it single-handedly?

This isn’t just simple discrimination—it’s exploitation by those who already hold power.

Those people exploit these special children. Even when these children grow up, they can only do the hardest, most exhausting jobs and earn the lowest wages.

Where do you think the value created by these children goes?

Discrimination and oppression that have lasted for hundreds of years must have beneficiaries behind the scenes, fanning the flames.

Those beneficiaries have already tasted the sweetness of it. What you want to do will touch their interests.

They won’t let you off—and they won’t let the children you’re raising off either.

Song Yiran, do you have the ability to bear all of this?”

“…Why are humans always like this…” Song Yiran’s Dao heart shattered. 555 was right—he was powerless to change any of it.

But he couldn’t understand it.
Why did humans always have to be like this?

555 comforted him, “Actually, all intelligent beings are like this. There will always be oppressors and the oppressed.

Song Yiran, pull yourself together. Even if we can’t change how this world operates, at least you can raise these little ones and help them grow up.”

Today, Song Yiran upgraded his equipment—he found a very large bag in a trash bin.

As time went on, he had rummaged through most of the trash cans on this street. His luck was pretty good today; the spoils were plentiful, filling nearly half the bag.

Song Yiran carried the bag toward the next trash can. The little ones were very well-behaved, always following by his side. They even helped him rummage through the trash—whenever they found something good, they would happily bring it to him to show off their “achievement.”

The children followed him cheerfully, but Song Yiran couldn’t bring himself to feel happy.

They were still so small. This should have been an age of carefree play, yet they could only follow him around picking through garbage.

Song Yiran sighed again. Ever since coming to the interstellar world, he’d been sighing more and more.

When would these days of scavenging ever end? If only he’d never run into that spacetime turbulence back then.

555 suddenly spoke up. “Wait—don’t go any farther. Song Yiran, run! Now!”

Song Yiran’s mind hadn’t caught up yet, but his body reacted first. He swept all the little ones into his arms, turned around, and went into full sprint mode.

Holding three children, Song Yiran fled for his life while asking, “555, what happened?!”

555 explained, “Do you remember the alley next to the road you just walked down?

I just saw a man in that alley, wearing a lewd expression, secretly staring at you. Run faster—I’m afraid he’ll catch up!”

“Ahhh! My ears are contaminated!” At this moment, Song Yiran wished he could grow eight more legs just to escape. Damn legs—move faster!

Song Yiran ran at the fastest speed of his past life combined with this one.

Almost there. He could already see the gates of the nursery.

Even though he usually despised how broken-down the gate looked, the moment he saw it now, a sense of relief welled up in his heart.

No golden nest or silver nest compares to one’s own doghouse.

Just as Song Yiran relaxed for a split second upon seeing that glimmer of hope, a hand grabbed him and dragged him into the alley beside the road.