Woke Up to Find the Game I Made Came True-Chapter 76

After learning about the ‘White Night Model,’ Ye Bai continued to subtly probe Aurora for more information. It wasn’t just the facial and hairstyle templates being copied—there were even numerous ID impersonators, with names like White Night 666, Night White, White Night&#, and so on.

However, these ‘knockoff IDs’ were ultimately useless. In *Boundless Worlds*, there was no private chat or friend system—the only means of communication was sending mail. But given that it cost extra in-game currency, players were unlikely to send messages to the wrong person.

Yet after hearing Aurora’s explanation, Ye Bai suddenly had a new idea—

The fact that Ye Bai *was* White Night was something she would never reveal to anyone.

This secret was far too significant. Even though Aurora was Ye Bai’s first friend in the interstellar era, and three years of companionship had proven her trustworthy, some secrets were too heavy to share. Revealing it would only force Aurora into an impossible choice—between friendship and her own people—an utterly unnecessary, inhuman dilemma.

Given this, Ye Bai had previously debated whether to use her already registered *Boundless Worlds* account on Makur Star as an excuse—after all, traveling between different registration zones required gold, making accidental encounters unlikely.

Ye Bai had settled in the Phantom Sea Galaxy and would inevitably tell Aurora she had entered *Boundless Worlds*. On one hand, as a Paleo-Human, job opportunities on Phantom Sea were scarce, and she needed to dedicate most of her time to the game. On the other, she wanted to use Aurora’s lab to learn more about the connection between *Boundless Worlds* and psychic energy.

To meet these conditions, Ye Bai had to publicly become one of *Boundless Worlds*’ ‘professional players.’ The biggest issue was how to conceal her identity as White Night.

Since the full-dive version of *Boundless Worlds* only allowed one character per account—as interstellar players had already confirmed—even if a trial account was deleted and a new one created, getting reduced to Level Zero wouldn’t allow another deletion and fresh start.

But now, after learning more from Aurora, Ye Bai realized she had overcomplicated things. With White Night’s in-game appearance exposed, the solution unexpectedly fell into place.

If Ye Bai simply wore ordinary gear in front of Aurora—with no way to see character names—who could tell if she was White Night or just another knockoff using the ‘White Night Model’?

The only possible way to verify would be if someone paid the mailing fee to send White Night a letter and catch Ye Bai in the act—but even then, she could dismiss it as coincidence.

Ye Bai was now immensely grateful that the territorial war had inspired such an unconventional communication system, modeled after a certain guild leader in a conquest game who faked an obituary for a sneak attack. This design ensured such tactics wouldn’t work again—though it was hard to say whether the investors agreed to it because sending mail cost money…

“That makes sense, but won’t those research tasks be too difficult? And probably highly competitive?” Ye Bai feigned nervousness as she asked Aurora.

She wasn’t keen on lab research missions—not because of the difficulty, but because they required evidence like screenshots or resource submissions, which risked exposing her. Besides, she already had her hands full managing her territory and handling quests.

Aurora ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‍thought for a moment, then nodded. “That’s fine. You can treat the research tasks as a long-term goal—do them if you can, but otherwise, focus on earning in-game gold. Right now, major organizations are constantly buying game currency. The exchange rate in *Boundless Worlds* is 3 copper coins to 1 star coin.”

“Even at low levels, you can earn about 20 copper coins a day. As you level up, your income will increase. It’s more than enough to cover your living expenses on Great Sea Star.”

“Then there’s no problem at all,” Ye Bai said with a slow nod. This was a safe way to convert game currency to star coins—as long as she exchanged modestly.

“Now that I’ve graduated, my lab salary is over 1,000 star coins a month. If you’re short on funds early on, don’t hesitate to ask,” Aurora declared confidently.

On Great Sea Star, where the average wage was 400 star coins, this was a high income.

Aurora was far from the student she’d been three years ago, when she’d arrived on Blue Star with a 2,000-star-coin research grant for her ‘thesis project.’ The lab rent had been covered by the academy, and she’d even allocated funds to pay Ye Bai—their test subject—a standard wage.

Given the purification costs, Ye Bai’s three-year earnings of 300 star coins had been generous. Makur Star had once offered her a far worse deal—around 80 star coins annually.

“Don’t worry, I’ll manage just fine,” Ye Bai said with a playful wink. “I might even have more savings than you.”

“Haha, you probably do!” Aurora laughed, remembering that Ye Bai had received compensation from the Stellar Alliance, which was notoriously lavish in such matters.

Next came settling in. Though Aurora invited Ye Bai to live with her, Ye Bai knew her secrets were too dangerous. Her *Boundless Worlds* attribute boosts affected reality, and if she slipped up, sharing a home with Aurora could expose her.

With her ‘legitimate’ star coins, she could afford her own place—better to handle it now.

So during their bath, Ye Bai browsed Great Sea Star’s rental listings with Aurora.

As one of the galaxy’s most advanced civilizations, Great Sea Star’s prices were comparable to Blue Star’s, but thanks to wormholes and planetary size, living costs were much lower.

A suitable single-occupancy apartment rented for 50 to 80 star coins a month—far more spacious and comfortable than Blue Star’s 8-star-coin capsule hotels.

Ye Bai ultimately rented a 60-star-coin unit, completing all the paperwork online. She could move in as soon as they arrived.

At the same time, she ‘on-the-spot’ registered a Stellar Net account and added Aurora as a friend.

As long as she didn’t disclose her *[Boundless Worlds/White Night]* status, no one on the Stellar Net would know her true identity. Adding Aurora now followed the same logic as adding Silienna and others back on Makur Star.

Aurora still had work to attend to online. Before they parted ways in reality, she reminded Ye Bai, "If your spawn point happens to be near Solara City, send me a message. Once I’m free, I can help you level up."

"No problem," Ye Bai agreed, while silently resolving to ensure her spawn point would definitely *not* be in Solara City.

Aurora then sent Ye Bai a contact on the Stellar Network—a staff member from the lab who handled in-game currency exchanges. "I can help you with exchanges too, but if I’m ever unavailable and you’re short on funds, you can go directly to her."

"Got it," Ye Bai nodded. She couldn’t keep bothering Aurora for every exchange. "I’ll register the account under… *ahem*, the ‘White Night’ model later."

"Hahaha, smart choice!"

……

After parting ways, Ye Bai took the planet’s free maglev train straight to the doorstep of her rented dwelling.

Before her eyes was a small, futuristic shell-shaped structure, encased in what looked like a shimmering bubble of water, floating mid-air.

From what she’d learned, Phantom Sea was a planet mostly covered in vast oceans—hence its name. The native Phantom Sea people traced their origins to the sea and still retained the ability to breathe underwater. Their architectural style also retained echoes of their marine heritage.

After identity verification, the "shell" parted, and a walkway extended through the bubble, seamlessly connecting to the spherical maglev train Ye Bai had arrived in.

Stepping onto the walkway, Ye Bai passed through the water-like barrier. It only *looked* like water—either that, or it was tightly contained—because she emerged on the other side completely dry.

Simultaneously, the door to the dwelling slid open. The space measured 23.8 square meters—small by sound, but in this era, all appliances and furnishings were ultra-compact, leaving ample room to move.

Even though she’d already done a "holo-tour" via her personal terminal, stepping into her first real "home" in the interstellar age still filled Ye Bai with excitement. She looked around, touched surfaces, and explored every corner with fresh curiosity.

Finally, after drinking a nutrient pack, she sank into the bed—its semi-transparent, jellyfish-like canopy soft and enveloping—and reviewed her real-world gains:

She’d safely arrived in the Phantom Sea Galaxy, secured a place to live, and settled her daily needs. For now, her identity wasn’t at risk of exposure. Moving forward, she could leverage her connection with Aurora to learn more about psychic abilities and even access the lab’s in-game currency exchange channel…

The thought amused her.

*Does this mean I’ve technically joined a gold-farming team under a Phantom Sea research faction?*

And when it came time to exchange, she’d have to personally log into *Worlds Online* as a low-level alt and head to Solara City.

Spending 3 gold on teleportation fees just to trade a measly 2 or 3 silver… she might just be the only player in the entire game doing something so absurd.

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