Pretend to be crazy - Chapter 60

Shen Yan was certain that the room’s cameras and surveillance systems were turned off. No third party would overhear his conversation with Warren.

He picked two breakfast items from the food cart. “Just these.”

The attendant didn’t leave. “Just these?”

The implication was clear: turn the surveillance back on.

There shouldn’t be any surveillance in hotel rooms, but in a cyberworld steeped in black market dealings, even a newly built hotel under six months old would have hidden cameras tucked in corners.

Unless someone had real money, power, and status enough to be assigned a secure location by the authorities of Paradise Island, there was no such thing as privacy.

Shen Yan stared at him for a few seconds, then flashed a sunny smile. “My husband has a big appetite. Leave the whole cart.”

The server stared back, his smile mechanical and almost inhuman. “Today’s prosthetics showcase begins in half an hour. It’s quite a show—you shouldn’t miss it.”

“Alright.”

That should’ve been the end of the conversation. But the server didn’t move. Shen Yan tried to pull the cart in, but it wouldn’t budge.

The atmosphere shifted as they locked eyes again.

At that moment, Warren walked over from behind him, slinging an arm around his shoulders. The over-two-meter-tall brute softened his tone, and even added a bubbly effect to his usually deep voice.

“What’s taking so long?”

Warren casually grabbed some food, then decisively shoved the cart out the door and slammed it shut.

Shen Yan couldn’t help laughing. Warren, seeing him laugh, lit up and wrapped him up in a sticky, affectionate hug. Just as he was about to say something, Shen Yan clamped a hand over his mouth.

Pinned against the door by Warren, he recalled the server’s quickly fading smile.

Raw strength wins the day.

Warren didn’t know what was so funny, but Shen Yan’s mischievous look was too cute not to love.

He wanted to kiss him again.

Shen Yan dodged, cupping his face and planting two light kisses on his chin before pushing him away just a bit.

He opened his terminal and lifted the surveillance restrictions.

“The server said there’s a prosthetic showcase today. Let’s check it out for fun.”

.

The showcase was held in an open plaza, divided into zones. The western side displayed internal organs and bones; the eastern side was for larger prosthetics.

Shen Yan immediately spotted Falson.

The center stage hosted hands-on trials. Guests could install devices and test them live. Most attendees had less than 30% body modifications and didn’t enjoy being toyed with in public.

But curiosity won out—they had their bodyguards try instead.

Falson was an outlier. Since Shen Yan last saw him, even more of his body had been modified. A mechanic carefully removed the skin from his right arm, revealing a sleek mechanical limb.

“Your arm is already excellent, but if you install Model Rb-3, its agility and attack capabilities will increase dramatically.”

Falson nodded obediently. “I’d like to try it. Thank you.”

Shen Yan and Warren blended into the crowd, watching the mechanic swiftly disassemble Falson’s arm and add new components before reassembling it.

To the right of the stage stood a 20 cm-thick steel plate. The mechanic proudly gestured at it. “You can now tear this like it’s paper.”

The crowd was skeptical. Even paper that thick wouldn’t be easy to rip, let alone steel.

Falson grabbed the steel with both hands and pulled in opposite directions.

A gut-wrenching screech rang out—he had split the steel in two. Gasps erupted from the audience. Falson beamed at his new arm, clearly pleased.

Then his eyes locked onto someone in the crowd: Shen Yan, watching calmly.

He immediately leapt off the three-meter stage. The host panicked, thinking he was fleeing, and quickly ordered security to surround them.

The value of prosthetics wasn’t the issue.

Such deadly devices required registration and approval before being used in public. Otherwise, both seller and user could face trouble.

But Falson didn’t care. He charged up to Shen Yan, shoved Warren three meters away with his steel-ripping arm, and wrapped Shen Yan in a tight, overly familiar hug.

The boy had either grown absurdly fast or had secretly modified his legs—he was no longer shorter than Shen Yan. In fact, he might’ve even surpassed him.

Unbothered by the setting, Falson chirped excitedly, “Mom—Brother, did you come here for me? To see my upgrades? Want to see something intense?”

Shen Yan: “No.”

Falson’s grip loosened. He lowered his eyes, disappointed. “Alright then.”

Perhaps because he performed so well in the coliseum, Falson had come to believe Shen Yan enjoyed gore and violence. He kept trying to amuse him with such displays.

But Shen Yan had shut him down, claiming he had other plans.

Turning to the uneasy mechanic nearby, he asked, “Sorry, he’s my younger brother. How much for the prosthetic?”

“Six hundred thousand.”

Shen Yan: “I’ll buy it.”

The mechanic hesitated, then pulled up the official payment screen.

Falson had come yesterday too, trying everything on display, claiming, “Mom will love this—I love this—I want it so bad.” The mechanic thought it was a big sale and offered enthusiastic service.

Only for Falson to leave without spending a dime.

Now Shen Yan paid on the spot. The mechanic’s mood lifted, and he beamed at him.

“Your brother has room for improvement in every area. We have over seventy upgrade options perfect for him—would you…”

“Don’t believe his lies!!”

A loud voice cut him off.

Everyone turned.

It was a stocky bald man, body modification over 75%, who opened his chest to reveal a fully mechanical torso. Only a discolored heart, encased in transparent material, remained organic.

“It’s a scam! Prosthetics are a scam!”

Clearly unstable, he paraded his broken body for all to see, scaring people back.

Security tried to subdue him. With firearms unsuitable in a crowd, they used batons, striking him with metallic clangs instead of fleshly thuds.

The man wept oily black tears and hurled two guards aside before roaring:

“They said cybernetics were the future of humanity. They tricked me into volunteering, turned me into this monster, and then discarded me. Now I survive on tranquilizers they dole out every month!”

“IT’S A SCAM! THEY’LL CONTROL YOU ALL! IF YOU BELIEVE THEM, YOU’RE DOOMED—THE WORLD IS DOOMED!”

“DON’T BELIEVE THEM!!!”

The mechanic’s expression darkened. The crowd grew restless.

Several guards were already injured. They raised their guns. The man met them head-on, chest bare, heart beating wildly. His arm dropped—and transformed into a weapon.

Only their fear of harming bystanders had kept them from firing. But now, with the man armed, they had no choice.

Gunfire erupted. The man dodged, and chaos broke out.

People scattered like birds. Shen Yan, being closest, was too slow to react and got seized as a hostage.

The gunfire stopped.

Warren and Falson glared murderously at the man, but Shen Yan subtly shook his head.

Warren didn’t understand—he only knew Shen Yan was in danger. He wanted to rip the man apart, tear off his limbs, and crush his heart—

“Idiot.”

Falson grabbed his arm. His new arm was strong; Warren actually paused and turned to him, scowling. “Get lost.”

Falson whispered, “Mom’s plan.”

Warren froze. His feet wanted to move forward but refused.

Falson sighed. “You want Mom to hate you?”

That worked better than a rocket launcher.

Warren stopped, veins bulging, eyes locked on Shen Yan.

Falson relaxed smugly. If not for him, Warren would’ve ruined everything.

Time to ask Mom for a reward.

Food alone wouldn’t cut it.

He wanted more.

.

Shen Yan felt a chill under his stare—what twisted thing was this psycho thinking now?

Another reward?

He had none left to give.

He looked away, carefully gripping the man’s gun barrel, feigning terror. “Please, don’t freak out. I totally agree with you. Look—I haven’t had any modifications. No ports, nothing!”

The man paused, glancing at his smooth, pale neck and clean joints.

No signs of surgery.

After a moment of silence, the man sneered, jabbing the gun harder under Shen Yan’s chin. “Sure, you didn’t modify. You made others do it. Even your brother. What kind of person are you?”

“Come on, he wanted to!” Shen Yan baited him further. “You just want money, right? Maintenance is expensive. It’s normal for someone in your position to resent the world. I’ll pay. Just let me go, alright?”

He could’ve said it more nicely—but he didn’t. He even added:

“Don’t pretend to be a saint. I’ve met your kind before.”

“You’re from District Thirteen, right?”

Just as expected—he was knocked out cold.

He woke up in the island’s internal hospital.

A nurse, seeing him awake, took his temperature and checked his vitals. Once assured he was fine, she sighed in relief.

“We deeply apologize for your injury on the island. The event coordinator will meet with you personally to discuss compensation.”