Neurolink System in the Modern World - Chapter 82 Pandoras box

Chapter 82  Pandoras box

Both Alyssa and I lay exhausted in the bed. She had fallen fast asleep, clearly very tired after our rough passionate sex. Her face and hair was still coated in my sperm, but I decided to leave her alone because she deserved some rest after such a satisfying sex.

Waking her up just to tell her to bathe seemed rather petty. Besides, her natural scent, even with the sweat, was still pleasant to the nose, so it wasn’t really an inconvenience for me.

I also planned to sleep and rest. However, I couldn’t shake the word “Whisperer” from my mind. It kept haunting me, refusing to let me sleep. So, I reluctantly got up from the bed and made my way to the computer desk. This computer now belonged to me since my uncle had passed away.

I turned on the PC and entered the password. Then, I opened the computer’s search bar, not the browser, and typed “Whisperer.” Unfortunately, no files or relevant data came up.

Frustrated but determined, I decided to search the web for any information. But all I found was a novel called “Whisperer” and some unrelated content. The mystery surrounding the word only deepened, leaving me with more questions than answers.

It was frustrating, but I couldn’t give up. The nagging feeling that “Whisperer” held some significance in my life pushed me to keep searching, even if it meant delving deeper into the digital abyss. My attention was suddenly drawn to a peculiar icon on the screen. My uncle had modified it to resemble a settings icon, but after clicking it, I quickly realized it was something entirely different. A browser window popped up, featuring a dark theme that immediately caught my attention. My heart raced as I contemplated the implications of this discovery. The dark web was notorious for being a hidden part of the internet, known for its secrecy and often illegal activities. Why would my uncle have a connection to it? And what did it have to do with the word “Whisperer”? “Maybe I can find my answers here,” I muttered to myself, determined to uncover the truth. With cautious fingers, I typed the word “Whisperer” into the search bar and hit Enter. The browser directed me to a website, and as it loaded, I quickly realized that it was a platform dealing with underground information.

My heart raced as I scrolled through the content, the site filled with obscure references, coded messages, and cryptic discussions. Faced with the requirement of an account to post a question on the site, I knew I had to create a dummy account to proceed. I named it “Z13,” a name that held no personal significance. Luckily, the account creation process was straightforward, requiring no email verification. I simply needed to remember my username, password, and a unique code. After setting everything up, I clicked the “ask” button. It didn’t take long before an information broker began chatting with me.

Information Broker: Our prices depend on the question. Payment can be made through  USDT.

I took a deep breath and began typing, my fingers dancing across the keyboard. I sent the message, hoping to finally uncover some answers. Money was no obstacle; I needed to know.

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Me: Do you know about the WHISPERER?

For a couple of minutes, there was no reply, and I contemplated closing my PC and getting some rest. But just as that thought crossed my mind, a notification appeared on the screen, pulling me back into the world of the unknown.

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Information Broker: This information is very sensitive and important; it will cost you 1000 USDT.

“This is daylight robbery !” I was so startled that I almost leaped out of my seat. USDT had the same value as the USD, which meant that 1000 USDT was nearly 1.3 million Korean won. It was hard to imagine what kind of information could possibly be worth that much. Doubt crept in, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this information broker was trying to pull a fast one on me. ..

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Me: How can I be sure that what I’m looking for is what you have?

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Information Broker: I obtained this information from our Korean informant.

“Korean informant?” I found myself at a loss for words. My online identity was completely anonymous, and I was using a Korean-English translator to communicate. There was no way the person on the other end could have known my nationality. This revelation strongly suggested that the information they had might be directly connected to what I was looking for. ..

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Me: Alright, send me your crypto address.

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Information Broker : bc1124xxxxxxxxxxxxx

After seeing the wallet address, I whipped out my phone like a modern-day cowboy ready for a digital duel. I quickly opened my dummy crypto account – nicknamed “Bigshow123” – and began the process of sending the money, hoping that my investment wouldn’t end up wasted. Updat𝒆d fr𝒐m nov𝒆lb(i)n.c(o)m

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Information Broker: I’ve received the money. I will send you the photos related to this case. They are in JPEG format to avoid any viruses. For your safety, please only open them on this website. Do not download anything.

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Me: Okay.

Finally, the files arrived, and I clicked on the photo. As it opened up before my eyes, I was confronted with something beyond my wildest imagination. I was confronted with dozens of gruesome photos. Each image depicted a lifeless woman, their haunting faces sending shivers down my spine. “Faker,” I quickly activated my ability to shield myself from the intense disgust and horror welling up inside me. These were real, unaltered images, unlike the sanitized ones often shown on TV with blurred faces and obscured details. The gravity of the situation sank in, and I realized that I had stumbled upon a trove of evidence related to the “Whisperer” serial killer case. Case File :

Whisperer: A serial killer suspected to have the ability to convince his victims to commit suicide.

As I started to read the case file, I was stunned. The information dated back eight years, and it seemed that even the person who had written the file was hesitant to believe that such an individual existed.

This revelation left me astounded. If it weren’t for the fact that I was just ten years old eight years ago, I might have thought they were describing my own abilities. It raised many questions about the connection between “Whisperer” and the mysterious powers I possessed. “Could it be that someone other than me has a system?” I muttered aloud, my thoughts racing.

I shook my head, dismissing the notion. If someone had a system eight years ago, they would likely have become godlike by now. It seemed more realistic to consider that this “Whisperer” was some kind of hypnotist, similar to those performers I had seen in magic shows But then another question loomed.

“Why did my uncle have this serial killer’s name?” My mind was flooded with questions, and it felt like I had opened a Pandora’s box of mysteries, each one more puzzling than the last.