Wang Yue looked over a long manifest, scanning the columns of data.
Categories, dimensions, quantities—every detail was recorded with clinical precision. Delia was sharp, meticulous, and undeniably capable.
However, the sheer volume of gemstones and gold hauled out from the Demon Realm felt less like a treasure trove and more like construction debris. It was a massive headache to process; at this rate, it felt like she’d have to bury it just to keep it out of sight.
If this much wealth hit the market all at once, it would collapse the local economy. The Town Hall officials would surely come knocking on her door to demand an explanation for the chaos.
“How long did this take you?” Wang Yue asked, waving the manifest.
“Half an hour, Excellency,” Delia replied.
“As expected of a High-Speed Actuary. Your efficiency is staggering,” Wang Yue praised.
Accounting was never a simple task. Every credit and debit had to be reconciled perfectly before the books could be closed. Some accountants were fast and flawless; others found themselves in a cold sweat when the numbers refused to align.
Someone like Delia, who combined extreme speed with zero errors, was a rare find indeed.
“Want a sweet?” Wang Yue asked warmly, pulling a candy jar from her desk drawer and offering it.
Delia took one with a quiet, “Thank you.”
Dorothy stood nearby, swallowing hard. She watched the jar with wide, longing eyes, fidgeting with her fingers. “I… I want one too…” she mumbled.
“You’ve been useless today. Let’s not waste the sweets,” Wang Yue said, snapping the drawer shut.
“Uuuu…” Dorothy’s face crumpled into a mask of misery.
“Go and prepare some tea for the Secretary, you clumsy maid,” Wang Yue added with a dismissive wave of her hand.
Once the tea was served, the two sat down.
Wang Yue’s eyes suddenly narrowed. As the tawny-haired girl sat, her school skirt shifted, revealing a flash of red against her pale calf.
Wang Yue reached out. “Let me see your leg.”
Delia hesitated for a moment before slowly lifting her leg.
“The other one,” Wang Yue said, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.
Delia looked troubled, but under the black-haired girl’s piercing gaze, she had no choice but to lift her other leg. Her toes trembled slightly.
Wang Yue gripped the girl’s ankle and hiked up the hem of her uniform skirt. There, carved into the white skin of her calf, was a single, vivid red word.
The wound was fresh, still capped with a bloody scab.
Seeing Delia lower her head in silence, Wang Yue stood up and, without a word, began checking the rest. She peeled back the girl’s layers of clothing, finding more carvings on her chest, arms, and inner thighs. Some were fresh; others were starting to scar.
“Did she do this?” Wang Yue’s voice turned dangerously cold.
Delia kept her head down, shivering. The way her thin shoulders hunched made her look heartbreakingly fragile.
Wang Yue immediately went to find the Housemother.
It wasn’t Mrs. Diaz; the Housemother for Building 4 was a stout, older woman.
When the Housemother saw the wounds on Delia’s body, her expression shifted. She realized the gravity of the situation instantly. However, no matter what she asked, the young girl remained silent, her head bowed.
Wang Yue stood to the side, deep in thought. She was certain Pandora was behind this, but why was Delia avoiding the topic? She had already cured the girl’s blindness—did Pandora still have some other leverage over her?
Even though the Housemother had taken over the case, Wang Yue knew there would be no results. The woman had never dealt with Pandora and had no idea what kind of monster the girl truly was.
The next day, Wang Yue went to check on the investigation.
“The girl claims she did it to herself,” the Housemother reported. “Her roommates confirmed it.”
“I’m telling you, her roommate Pandora did this,” Wang Yue insisted. “That girl is extremely dangerous. Please, look deeper into this.”
“I cannot judge Student Pandora based solely on your word. Regardless, the girl needs psychological help. I’ve already scheduled her for sessions at the campus counseling office. We’ll see how she progresses.”
Wang Yue said nothing more and turned to leave.
The Housemother was just an ordinary person. Expecting her to have the insight and drive of a detective was unrealistic.
Delia left the counseling office and walked slowly along the path back to the dormitory.
Under the counselor’s questioning, she had transitioned from being “unable to speak” to “slowly opening her heart”—all of it an act, of course. She had calmly fed the woman a prepared story about a heartbreak. Finally, she had let her brow unfurl and offered a small smile as the counselor offered “guidance,” leaving the woman convinced the session had been a resounding success.
Delia sneered inwardly. This was merely one part of the plan. The key was to make her Senior believe she was being bullied. She needed to trigger that abnormally strong empathy of hers, to make her suffer through the torment of being unable to help. She wanted her Senior to be filled with frustration and guilt until her judgment failed, her actions became erratic, and she fell into the trap.
Of course, if Wang Yue lacked empathy, this tactic would be useless.
It was a scheme designed specifically to ruin “good” people.
As she reached the crossroads, she looked up and saw her Senior waiting for her.
Their eyes met. Those warm, amber eyes were filled with concern and pity. Delia felt a spark of triumph; the ruse was working. Wang Yue was currently drowning in a sense of responsibility and protective instinct, desperate to provide warmth to her “wounded” junior.
Hah, how pathetic. You’re just flattering yourself.
A surge of malice rose in Delia’s heart. As my Master’s puppet, walking the path she laid out for me… Master will be so pleased.
How wonderful. Only pleasing Master brings me true joy.
Delia smoothed her expression, adopting a look of melancholy and detached sorrow as she approached.
Under the moonlight, the slender, black-haired girl stood as straight as a nail. Her sleeves were rolled up, revealing fair, delicate arms. The wind caught the ends of her dark hair, making it shimmer with a faint, obsidian light.
Delia stole a glance at her, thinking subconsciously that her Senior was far more beautiful than her Master. Though they shared subtle physical similarities—the same hair and eye color, almost like sisters—their temperaments were worlds apart. Her Senior was like a piece of warm, translucent jade, while her Master was like gaudy, flashy colored glass.
Mm… it’s wrong to think of Master like that. But even if Master is trash, a rotten person, a coward, and incompetent… I still love her. I love Master most of all!
The color drained from Delia’s face, leaving her sickly pale, yet her eyes glittered with an abnormal, feverish excitement.
“I know you’re struggling to speak about it. Don’t worry, I will protect you,” Wang Yue said, stepping forward. She reached out and firmly grasped Delia’s hand, holding it tight.
Even though Delia had prepared herself for the interaction, the moment her hand was enveloped in that warmth, her entire body shuddered. Her heart wavered.
No…
This is harder to endure than I thought…
Ha… ha…
My heart almost skipped a beat…
Delia’s heart pounded against her ribs. Her pale face flushed red with a sudden, terrifying realization. Her other hand was hidden behind her back, her nails digging deep into her palm, using the sharp pain to force herself back to reality.
After several minor clashes, Wang Yue found Pandora increasingly bizarre. That black-haired girl possessed a strange ability to make people sink into an inescapable obsession. It could be a Mystic Art, or perhaps something else entirely.
Reflecting on it, Dorothy had known Pandora since the start of the semester. They shared a room, ate together, and slept in the same space, yet Dorothy had been swayed by a few pieces of candy.
Now there was Delia. Wang Yue had helped her, even cured her eyes, yet the girl refused to tell the truth.
Wang Yue’s patience was fraying, though much of that irritation came from the pressure of the “mysterious stranger” recruitment attempt. She didn’t know which fire to put out first; both were imminent crises.
As she sat in her room, lost in thought, her little maid leaned in and whispered in her ear.
“Loran Wright seeks an audience.”
“Let her in.”
Loran entered, her appearance as exquisite and refined as ever. Her white-gold hair blended almost seamlessly with her porcelain skin. Given her slender, frail frame, she looked like a cold, ethereal being from another world.
Loran walked up to Wang Yue and bowed. “I hope I am not intruding.”
“Please, sit.” Wang Yue gestured to a chair. She knew why the girl was here.
A book with a colorful cover was held out toward her.
Loran bowed low. “I heard that Student Wang Yue enjoys gardening. I brought this as a gift: Bicolor Rose Standards: A Cultivation Guide.”
Wang Yue’s shoulders gave a small twitch. The honorifics and the sheer level of formal politeness made her skin crawl. Seeing the usually high-and-mighty Loran Wright acting so timid and cautious left her utterly bewildered.
Wait… isn’t this being a bit too humble?!
