Speaking of exams, although Ashley hadn’t been a top student in her previous life, she had come from a province infamous for its cutthroat competition and was confident she wouldn’t lose to most people.
As soon as learning came up, her DNA kicked into gear! All sorts of efficient study methods flooded her mind!
“Learning reshapes brain connections… Learning requires clear inputs and outputs… Learning needs multiple examples…”
After three days of intensive study, Ashley breezed through the history exam.
“Congratulations on passing the assessment. You are now an official employee of the Tribunal, One-Star Investigator Ashley.” The review team from the HR department announced it officially, holding the documents.
Two-Stars were Senior Investigators, Three-Stars were Chiefs, and cadre-level beyond that.
In this world, ability was everything. Simply grinding out seniority wouldn’t earn you a star upgrade, because without sufficient capability, even reaching cadre level meant you couldn’t handle events of that rank.
Ashley met the standard and became an Investigator, while many spent their lives as reserves, failing the combat portion of the Investigator exam.
In the Logistics Department, she picked up a finely made uniform, a pair of black patent leather riding boots fitted with silver spurs, a masterfully forged tactical dagger, and a full set of police gear.
Weekly salary: 6 pounds, plus meal allowances and travel reimbursements.
Ashley changed into the uniform and boots, looking at herself in the dressing mirror. She thought to herself, Arthur, who would’ve thought a thick-browed, big-eyed guy like you would end up joining Pinkerton!
“I’m still in admin, and you’ve already become an Investigator.” Amber said enviously.
Amber was still far from combat-ready standards. Training alone clearly wouldn’t cut it—there was a huge gap between a loli and an adult.
Ashley guessed that her teacher must have customized a gene template for her. Boosting her up would take minutes, and the Singularity’s baptism might even be on the horizon.
“Little An, pour some water for your big sis!” Now that she was an Investigator, Ashley immediately acted the part, waving her hand arrogantly.
“Little Ai, paw!”
The two lolis glared at each other, locked in a standoff for a moment, until Ashley extended her little hand and got it clasped.
“Hmph.”
Amber smugly lifted her chin, fiddling with the tiny fingers, occasionally pinching the soft palm.
“Who’s my little doggy?” She boldly asked, then pursed her lips hard afterward, her dark eyes gleaming with a mix of anticipation and fear.
“Do you like little doggies, then?” Ashley countered, her gaze flicking between Amber’s little face and their joined hands, her eyes full of mischief.
“I… I li… like…” Amber’s face turned beet red; she couldn’t get the words out.
“Forget it if you don’t!”
Ashley yanked her hand back and scampered off.
“Ai…”
Amber stared blankly at the retreating back of the cute blue-haired loli, reaching out as if to grab something, but her fingers only clutched at air.
What a shame…
She hated her own clumsy mouth but knew outright saying she liked it was the wrong choice. She mulled it over—what should she say in a moment like this? But her blockhead brain couldn’t come up with anything high-EQ.
Chloe’s sarcasm echoed in her mind—Being with a dummy loli like that must be so exhausting.
Amber shook her head, a sour ache welling up inside her. Disappointed in herself, she gazed wistfully at the ever-distant Ashley.
Suddenly, that adorable blue-haired loli stopped, hopped in place, turned around, cupped her hands to her mouth like a megaphone, and yelled at her:
“Hey! You lost your dog!”
“Hahahahaha…”
Amber burst out laughing and bolted after her.
–
Since she was drawing a salary from the Tribunal, she had to go to work. It was a contractual obligation.
That day, after breakfast, Ashley prepared a bit and headed out to the Tribunal on Whitehall Street.
On the commute, her little head clicked—Treating prison like home and going to the police station for work?
It felt a bit weird, but not bad.
The tram crawled along its winding tracks, roads jammed, the post-rain pavement slick and muddy, reeking of slop water.
Ashley received a notice from HR: she was assigned to the Investigation Department’s Seventh Group, office 207.
On the second floor, she followed a curving corridor.
The office door stood open, spilling warm yellow light.
As she entered, three men and two women looked over with scrutinizing or curious gazes.
The black-long-straight-haired big sister nearest the door held a spray bottle, tending to a lush Boston fern whose thick, velvety leaves sheltered many small, cute succulents.
Claire Zimmerman.
The name and profile flashed in her mind: female, 23 years old, five years on the job, Two-Star Investigator…
The sturdy man at the back desk, scribbling rapidly with a steel pen, was the logistics guy, Avery Vogt.
The tall, skinny man standing by the window with a cup of hot coffee was Vice Captain Linden Clayton.
This ordinary office vibe threw Ashley off. Sure enough, any job eventually devolved into boring repetition.
“Hello, Investigator Ashley.”
Linden walked toward the door with his coffee, a warm smile on his face.
He was lanky, with steady steps. His light, coordinated movements suggested he was highly skilled in combat.
Ashley’s eyes flicked over and caught a few drops of scalding coffee splashing onto the vice captain’s hand from the cup’s rim, but he seemed utterly unbothered, only setting the coffee down midway.
Something felt off about this guy.
“Captain Roy Vaughn is at the morning meeting. I’ll show you around.” The man reached the loli, extending a hand in invitation.
Ashley nodded slightly, stepped aside, then followed behind him as they traversed the corridor single-file to the stairwell at the end.
A slanted louvered window opened outward here, letting in fresh air. From it, she could see the parking lot below at an angle.
Linden stopped before the window, turned, spread his arms like a priest, and his tone suddenly grew distant as he asked:
“Why didn’t you use that bottle of Family Spirit Elixir?”
Ashley’s face drained of color in an instant. Her hand instinctively went to her waist as she demanded:
“You’re not Linden Clayton! Who the hell are you?!”
“Oh…” ‘Linden’ sighed, closing his eyes and pressing his index and middle fingers to his forehead—a gesture heavy with religious meaning. “No need to worry; the family won’t harm you. ‘Emergence Law’ is one of the systemic theories for enhancing physical abilities. That elixir stores 100,000 ‘Spirit Points.’ It’ll propel you far along the path of evolution. You can customize a body form to match your supernatural abilities—like visual enhancement for long-range sniping. Or if you have a ready gene template, you can replicate it directly…”
“I know you’re in a rush, but hold on,” Ashley stomped her boots, producing sharp clacks, and frowned. “Who the meow are you?”
The man blinked, then smiled broadly, hand to his chest as he bowed slightly.
“I’m Moracha of the Hazlit Family. We’re cousins; we’ve met a few times before. Remember? At the Helton Cliff Grotto, Black Rock Cape, Calydon Woodland… Ah, from your expression, you do remember. That’s great—otherwise, I’d look like some rambling stranger. Oh, right, I prepared a surprise for you. You’ll see it soon.”
As expected…
M·H was Moracha Hazlit.
Ashley’s mind raced. She decided to play along, ideally prying some key intel as an offering. She asked:
“It’s been a long time since our first contact. What have you been up to in between?”
“Sorry, I’ve wanted to meet you forever, but I had duties. And seeing you thrive—becoming the Witch’s disciple and infiltrating the Tribunal—I was waiting for the family’s plans to shift.”
“Witch?”
Seeing Ashley’s puzzled look, Moracha leaned forward as if confirming, then straightened.
“You haven’t heard of ‘Letisia’s Riddle’?”
Ashley shook her head.
“Every Trial Judge climbs over countless corpses to that position. Letisia Alduluti had a bloody, terrifying era when she ‘ascended.’ Back then, every enemy got this question: What being is a big sister in the morning, a maiden at noon, and a loli at night? Fail to answer, and she’d kill them cruelly, turning them into inhuman, twisted art pieces.”
Ashley was deeply curious. Just how ‘inhuman’ was ‘inhuman’ coming from this guy’s mouth?
“Morning Sister, Noon Maiden, Evening Loli—the answer is… a paper person!” she guessed.
“Hahaha, you’re hilarious, but you’re dead. Because the answer is ‘the Witch.'”
