Baron, who had hoped to use this opportunity to get some information from Yelena, felt his composure shatter.

’A delusional persona named Zhou Yike?’

’Are you kidding me!’

’Is this how the Constantine family’s hereditary Dissociative Identity Disorder is supposed to work? By creating a persona of a native-born Chinese man from another world?’

’You think you can erase the twenty-plus years of my life with a simple diagnosis of Dissociative Identity Disorder?’

’And what about my authentic Chinese name?’

’This is completely unbelievable! How could I possibly be the fake one?’

’If I’m not real, then what about everything I experienced in my past life? A person can’t imagine things they’ve never seen.’

’The era I’m from is decades apart from the original owner of this body. The timelines don’t line up at all.’

’And that thick, authentic country accent of mine is definitely not something a split personality could just imagine into existence.’

Baron calmly analyzed the situation in his mind, quickly regaining his composure. He had his past life to thank for this; whenever he was on a deadline, some idiot director would always be breathing down his neck for the script. His ability to handle pressure was exceptionally high.

He was certain that he was not an alter ego born from Dissociative Identity Disorder. There was a fundamental difference.

An alter ego created by Dissociative Identity Disorder could only subconsciously possess information available in the current era. They couldn’t possibly know about events from the 21st century while living in the 20th, as he did.

’Germany trouncing Brazil, Argentina winning the World Cup, iG taking the championship in Incheon... Things that will only happen in the future can’t be explained away by Dissociative Identity Disorder.’

But Yelena had said that the body’s original owner knew of his existence, and even knew his real name, Zhou Yike... ’Perhaps there’s more to this than meets the eye.’

He fell silent and sighed.

To understand any of this, he would have to return to the Inner Side, clean up the mess he was in, and meet Yelena in person.

He needed to do some damage control now to avoid arousing suspicion later. After a moment of deliberation, Baron wrote:

"I’m on the run and my nerves are shot..."

Having topped up his account with one million pounds, Baron didn’t hold back. He wrote several hundred words to fabricate a story about his current predicament, subtly hinting that the Law of Oblivion was causing some confusion in his memory.

He checked it over, and once satisfied, sent the message.

Judging by the other party’s response time, it would probably be a few days before he heard back.

Baron put the notebook away and glanced at the graceful figure on the bed behind him, obscured by the covers. He grimaced. ’Life is a real son of a bitch.’

Who would have thought that the infamous Dragon Witch would be just like him—a patient with Dissociative Identity Disorder?

He took out his deck of playing cards, intending to enter the dreamscape and learn the art of combat from the Shepherdess. But then he seemed to remember something and removed the tulip Witch KK had given him from his breast pocket.

The tulip’s petals were full and rich, looking no different from any ordinary flower you could buy at the market.

Baron examined it for a moment and decided it was better to be cautious. The Witch might have left some kind of Taboo on it. He still wasn’t sure if he entered the dreamscape physically or if it was just his consciousness, and it would be disastrous if the dream’s existence were to be exposed.

He placed the tulip in the vase on the table, put away the playing cards, and glanced at the pitch-black sky outside. ’Zod and the others are probably having the time of their lives at the brothel right now.’ He cast another cautious glance in the Witch’s direction before finally closing his eyes and falling asleep against the sofa.

The day’s high-intensity work and the sheer volume of new information had left him exhausted. He fell asleep much faster than usual, and within moments, his breathing became even and steady.

His hand, however, remained firmly on the grip of his gun. His subconscious, it seemed, was still on high alert.

About an hour later, the Witch’s eyes fluttered open. Her rose-gold pupils gazed at the man’s back on the sofa, a complex emotion flickering within them. She pursed her lips, then closed her eyes again, rolled over, and sank back into a deep sleep.

......

「Meanwhile, in a certain brothel on an underground street.」

Zod had drunk his way through nearly every bottle in the brothel. Cup after cup, he kept them coming, stunning the other patrons who had come looking for girls to blow off some steam.

’Holy hell, man,’ they thought, ’this is a brothel, not a tavern! When people say they’re here for a drink, it’s just part of the act. You’re taking it literally!’

The girls assigned to drink with Zod had been swapped out in shifts. The usual procedure was for a girl to get a client sufficiently drunk and then take him to a room.

In the end, however, the girls were the ones who ended up passed out drunk while Zod was still going strong.

Now, even the brothel’s Madam, a woman famous for her ability to hold her liquor, had caught wind of the situation and come to investigate. As if to challenge his drinking prowess, she had someone fetch the strongest spirits from the cellar.

Then the two began to drink with abandon, singing boisterously.

Maguire, who had come with Zod, was also engaged in a fierce battle.

Not a battle of drink, however. He was playing cards with the "understanding older sister" whom Morey had hand-picked for the pure and innocent novice.

The winner got to draw a turtle on any part of the loser’s body.

And by the time Zod and the Madam were downing their twenty-third mug of steam beer, Maguire, a skilled card player, had already drawn over two hundred little turtles on the "older sister’s" arms.

Finally, the "older sister" couldn’t stand it any longer. At this rate, they’d never get to the main event. She asked Maguire:

"Want to have a taste of my lipstick?"

Maguire hesitated for a moment before nodding. The woman was overjoyed, thinking they were finally getting down to business.

But instead, Maguire took the lipstick she had set beside the cards for touch-ups, bit off half of it, and remarked:

"Cochineal, Amel rubber, egg white, beeswax, fig milk... Not as tasty as Ruth’s lipstick."