Chapter 279: The Gamer's Map
The conductor's table was a slab of cold, polished oak. To anyone else, it was empty, covered only by a thin layer of dust and the frost creeping in from the edges.
To me, it was a monitor.
I stood over it, my eyes unfocused, staring through the wood rather than at it. I wasn't looking at the physical world. I was activating a technique I had spent years perfecting—not a skill given by the System, but a mental discipline forged from a past life spent obsessing over wikis, spreadsheets, and forum posts.
[Mental Palace: Activated]
The noise of the train—the wind, the breathing of the students, the scratching of the Stalkers—faded into a dull hum. The darkness of the carriage was replaced by the gray, organized grid of my memory.
I wasn't Michael the Student anymore. I was the Player. The Reader. The Critic.
