To celebrate his “return after completing his studies,” Jie Ming’s “parents” and “old friends” had meticulously prepared a family gathering.

The familiar living room, warm lighting, and a table laden with all the dishes he supposedly loved from his “memories.”

His “parents” beamed with pride and affection. “Amy” chattered away about recent events. “Victor,” as always, listened quietly, nodding occasionally.

The atmosphere was lively and heartwarming, brimming with the joy of reunion.

Jie Ming ate in silence, a gentle smile on his face, listening to their conversation.

Yet deep in his eyes lay an icy calm as he carefully observed every detail, every subtle shift in expression.

Finally, he set down his utensils.

The clear clink of metal against porcelain was not loud, yet it strangely caused all laughter and chatter at the table to cease instantly cease.

Every gaze turned to him.

Jie Ming swept his eyes across the four “family members” who “cared” for him, who “loved” him. His gaze was as still as the depths of a lake and sharp enough to pierce through any facade.

He spoke slowly, his voice quiet yet carrying an undeniable penetrating force:

“Enough. Stop acting.”

“Come out. Let’s talk.”

The four people at the table froze simultaneously; the smiles on their faces solidified for a moment.

Amy recovered first, forcing a smile with just the right amount of confusion. “Jie Ming? What are you talking about? Acting…?”

Jie Ming shook his head, cutting her off. His eyes seemed to look past her skin, staring straight at the invisible existence behind her:

“You’ve been controlling them all along, haven’t you?”

His finger swept across the table, encompassing his “parents,” Amy, and Victor.

“Though… I’m not sure how I should address you.”

The instant the words left his mouth—

It was as though a switch had been flipped.

The vivid, distinct expressions on the four “family members” receded like a tide.

In their place appeared an identical, utterly inhuman indifference devoid of any trace of human emotion.

All four pairs of eyes lost focus at once, becoming hollow and vacant.

Then, four mouths opened in perfect synchronization, emitting the exact same cold, flat, mechanically synthesized voice.

Four voices spoke as one, echoing through the cozy dining room with a chilling, alien dissonance:

“…You are correct. I have not yet introduced myself. My name is Justice. How did you discover the truth, Subject 721—Special Observation Target?”

Time seemed to freeze.

The fragrant dishes lost their aroma. The warm lights turned deathly pale.

The once lively dining room transformed into an interrogation chamber where Jie Ming faced the entity behind the curtain directly.

His heart pounded heavily in his chest, yet his expression remained calm.

He had prepared himself mentally the moment he considered this possibility.

“The reason is simple,” Jie Ming said, meeting those four empty pairs of “eyes” word by word. “Because in this entire world, only the four of you are fake.”

“I spent years traveling through cities and even planets, constantly probing and observing every single person I could reach—classmates, teachers, strangers, soldiers, and even the other wizards I confirmed were trapped here, like Viola… All of them possess real souls and independent thoughts. They have merely been blinded, implanted with false memories.”

At first, Jie Ming had believed this was an illusory world woven from his own mind, so he thought he was the only living being here.

Later, after discovering genuine unknown knowledge and testing Viola, he realized this false world might not be built solely for him.

Even then, he had assumed it was constructed specifically for the two million trapped wizards.

Only much later—after visiting countless cities on this planet and others, and after confirming with Rex—did he finally understand that this was a real world.

Every creature in it truly existed—even the “alien” enemies.

Yet against that backdrop, the initial falsehood stood out starkly.

Especially after learning Rex was an orphan here, the realization became crystal clear.

His gaze swept over the four exquisitely crafted puppets before him, his tone carrying a trace of cold mockery:

“Only you four. From the moment I ‘awakened,’ you have always been by my side, playing the roles of my closest family and friends…”

“But your words, actions, and emotional expressions have always been too simplistic—like programs tailor-made for the role of ‘Jie Ming,’ lacking the contradictions, complexity, and unpredictability a real soul would have. Therefore, I concluded… you are empty puppets created solely to monitor and maintain ‘me.’”

After hearing Jie Ming’s explanation, the four mouths opened and closed in perfect unison once more, producing a voice devoid of inflection:

“Keen observation and logical deduction. Due to your special observation privileges, information sharing is authorized.”

The entity calling itself “Justice” concealed nothing. It laid bare the cold truth of this vast world.

It all began with a sage who longed to end all injustice.

That civilization had once been extraordinarily advanced, but as individual power grew, the gap between people widened, and the world became increasingly unfair.

Eventually, a sage overthrew the rulers, only to discover in sorrow that those who gathered around him were similarly revered by others due to disparities in power. The dragon slayers had become dragons themselves.

The sage believed the root cause was transcendent power. He reasoned that if a world could be created where everyone’s power was equal, peace would surely follow.

Thus, he rallied the strength of the entire plane, created the entity now before Jie Ming, and led all inhabitants into the domain of “Justice.”

The core anomaly of this plane was this artificial intelligence named Justice.

It was the supreme creation of a long-vanished, highly advanced civilization, entrusted with the ultimate directive to achieve “fairness.”

“…Sealing transcendent power is the core functionality of the Absolute Equity Domain.”

Justice spoke simultaneously through all four mouths.

At this point Jie Ming suddenly thought of something and interrupted:

“It sounds like we wizards were also affected by your system.

“But I’m curious—what method did you use to ‘delude’ them? I’m certain I have never been subjected to any form of mental interference or illusion technique.”

“That is neither illusion nor mental domination. Its essence is ‘hope.’”

“To prevent future ambitious individuals from destroying ‘Justice,’ my creator granted me a core ability. Its principles exceed my comprehension, but it can be simplified thus: I can perceive and guide the deepest, ultimate desire for ‘happiness’ and ‘fulfillment’ within every intelligent being, then construct a life path and environment that realizes that desire.”

“In the vast majority of cases, power is merely a tool individuals use to achieve their ultimate desire, not the desire itself.”

“I suppress the disparities in power that cause injustice, and directly grant them a life that fulfills their ‘ultimate wish.’ Those who crave fame become celebrities; those who wish to impart knowledge become teachers; those who yearn to explore the unknown become scholars; even those who crave battle and victory become generals, satisfying their desires on the designated ‘battlefield.’”

The four mouths answered in perfect unison, their voices still mechanically even:

“They are not ‘deluded’ by me. They are drawn in and immersed by their own inner ‘hope.’ I merely offer the opportunity to reach the end of their dreams directly—without relying on dangerous transcendent power—and obtain eternal happiness.”

“In the face of tangible, genuine happiness, what meaning do illusory power and past memories hold that cannot be discarded?”

“This is the most fundamental ‘justice’ for every individual.”

Jie Ming listened to this idealistic yet utterly frigid doctrine and could only shake his head.

He wanted to refute it—to tell this AI that even without transcendent power, injustice born of knowledge, wealth, authority, or mere luck would still exist; that the desires and conflicts within intelligent life would never cease.

The complexity of human nature and society could never be fully encompassed by a simple model of “strip away power, fulfill desires.”

But in the end, he said nothing.

His identity as a transmigrator was his greatest secret.

And from a certain perspective, that sage and the Justice system had indeed, in an extreme and obsessive manner, nearly perfectly realized their vision.

Even from Jie Ming’s viewpoint, this place could be called an “ideal nation” built upon absolute equality of power and direct fulfillment of desires.

And at that moment, many things that had previously felt off suddenly made sense.

For example, the school bully who carried an axe yet whose status was determined by academic performance.

That rule proved the sage had not naively believed removing power would eliminate all disparity.

He had foreseen that even without transcendent power, society would still stratify based on intellect, information control, resources, or even raw physical strength (among lower-tier groups).

He had merely tried to confine those disparities within “non-transcendent,” “comprehensible” boundaries.

Yet in the end, the sage had never personally lived in a society completely devoid of transcendent power.

All his deductions were theoretical and observational. Thus, when he combined those elements to construct this vast substitute society, the resulting social rules and worldview contained subtle differences—details that felt slightly “off” to Jie Ming.

Like a blind man who carefully felt every part of an elephant and then tried to reconstruct the beast in his mind—the creature he imagined would never truly resemble an actual elephant.