Seeing Phil remain silent—though in reality her brain had simply short-circuited and she didn’t know what to say—Monica became even more convinced of her theory.

So that was it!

Everything was connected!

Monica felt as though all the foreshadowing had finally come to the surface.

Why did Miss Phil have SAVE’s intelligence at her fingertips?

Why did Mr. Lin Han, who shouldn’t even know her, go out of his way to help her today?

Perhaps it was just because Miss Phil, as a Devil, knew many things, or perhaps Mr. Lin Han was simply a good person.

But now, Monica had found a more logical explanation—

Lin Han was Phil’s informant!

Heh heh heh! As expected of me!

Monica felt like she had finally grown a brain!

With her eyes sparkling, she looked at Miss Phil, hoping for confirmation.

Phil felt that if she told her she was wrong, Monica’s brain might actually use a series of ridiculous and bizarre “logical deductions” to arrive at the truth: that Phil was Lin Han.

So, Phil ultimately nodded, effectively conceding to Monica’s conjecture.

Fine, an informant it is.

As long as Monica knew that Lin Han was an ally truly on the same side as her, that was enough.

“Yay! I got it right!”

Monica perked up with pride, then continued in a tone tinged with awe:

“But Miss Phil, you really are amazing. To think an important figure like Mr. Lin Han is one of your informants.”

Lin Han?

An important figure?

How did those two concepts even connect?

Lin Han was nothing more than a grassroots nuclear-powered donkey1, his labor exploited by an unscrupulous, demonic loli boss.

Phil felt that Monica must have misunderstood something.

She probably saw Lin Han acting as the “leader” of the team and assumed he was some kind of big shot.

Then again, it was hard to say.

Phil had long since noticed that Monica seemed to view SAVE through a pair of rose-colored glasses, believing that everyone working there was someone incredible.

Perhaps in her eyes, a mere team leader from the Intelligence Processing Division was already a legendary figure.

Phil coughed twice, wanting to change the subject, the idea of being her own subordinate was just too bizarre.

But Monica seemed to misinterpret her reaction.

Monica’s expression turned solemn instantly, and she raised a hand to swear an oath:

“Don’t worry, Miss Phil! I will never betray any information regarding you or Mr. Lin Han!”

“Stop harping on that topic!”

“…Still, isn’t it quite strange when you think about it?”

Monica suddenly muttered to herself.

Her words were cryptic, but for some reason, Phil understood exactly what Monica was trying to say—

Monica had assumed that SAVE, as the representative of justice, would be the one to lend her a hand. Instead, it was Phil, the self-proclaimed devil, and the “Devil’s informant” who was helping her.

To this, Phil could only say nonchalantly:

“To carry out one’s own justice, one also needs fangs.”

“…Mm.”

Monica nodded, not letting herself dwell on her emotions for too long.

Seeing that Monica had fully recovered her spirits, Phil said:

“It’s about time. Tomorrow, remember to follow my—ahem, Lin Han’s arrangements. Don’t act on your own, and don’t push yourself too hard.”

Monica immediately grew tense.

“Are you leaving, Miss Phil?”

“Yes.”

Monica was visibly dejected.

Seeing this, Phil couldn’t help but feel a bit strange.

Though she hadn’t really hidden it before, hadn’t Monica’s level of clinginess increased again lately?

Had it reached the point where she was unhappy just because she couldn’t see her?

It wasn’t that she couldn’t understand her feelings. After all, Xiao Rou’s whereabouts were unknown, Director Grandma was still in emergency care, and the orphanage she considered home had been destroyed.

Phil was likely the only emotional pillar Monica had left now…

In other words, Monica’s current state was just a temporary reaction to these extraordinary circumstances.

Once Xiao Rou was rescued, the Director was discharged, and the orphanage was rebuilt, Monica surely wouldn’t be so dependent on her anymore.

Right, she wouldn’t… would she?

Phil suddenly felt a bit uncertain. A faint voice in her heart told her that if she successfully helped Monica through this crisis, Monica’s “symptoms” might become even more severe…

Shaking her head to brush aside these stray thoughts, Phil looked at Monica’s pitiful state, and her tone softened slightly.

“Get some sleep. There’s a lot to do tomorrow. I’ll keep watching over you.”

Having said that, Phil was just about to dispel the [Illusion] and log out of the game.

But just then, her perception seemed to touch upon something that wasn’t quite right.

This aura…

It felt just like the mutants of the Metamorphosis Society.

Phil narrowed her eyes, carefully sensing the source of that faint aura.

The aura was so incredibly faint—perhaps even weaker than those failed mutants—that Phil had almost missed it.

“Hmm? Is something wrong?”

Noticing that Miss Phil hadn’t vanished immediately as she usually did, but instead seemed to be seriously sensing something, Monica tilted her head.

“It seems like it won’t be so easy to get some sleep tonight after all…”

As she spoke, Phil slowly turned her head, looking in a certain direction.

Under the night rain, in a secluded alleyway.

The dim yellow streetlights could not reach this place; only a sliver of blurry light leaked in from the alley’s entrance.

Moss crawled over the damp walls, and shallow puddles of wastewater collected on the ground. Rainwater dripped intermittently from the gaps in the eaves, clattering against a tin box with a hollow sound.

In the darkness, a teenage boy walked quickly into the alley with his head down.

He didn’t look old, seventeen at most. The brim of his hat was pulled low and his hands were shoved into his pockets, yet his trembling fingers were still visible.

He kept looking back.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Every few steps, he would glance warily behind him, as if terrified that someone was following him.

Only when he reached the depths of the alley did he stop, leaning against the wall and gasping for breath.

“I’m here…”

The boy’s voice was tight.

“Where are you?”

Only the sound of the rain echoed; there was no response in the alley.

The boy’s Adam’s apple bobbed as his face grew increasingly pale.

“Don’t… don’t mess with me. I already left the money in the usual spot. You said you’d give it to me today…”

The next second, a mocking voice rang out from behind him.

“Looking like that, anyone who sees you would think you’re up to something.”

The boy spun around, nearly crying out in alarm.

Without him realizing, a man had appeared in the shadows behind him.

The man wore a dark raincoat with the hood pulled low, hiding half his face in shadow and revealing only a glimpse of a pale chin. He stood there as if he had always belonged to the darkness.

Seeing him, the boy didn’t relax; instead, he grew even more tense.

“The drug?”

The man chuckled. “Don’t be in such a hurry.”

“Where is the drug?!”

The boy’s voice rose sharply before he realized his mistake and quickly lowered it. “I’ve already paid. Give me the drug, now.”

The man watched him as if admiring something amusing. After a moment, he slowly pulled a small vial from the inside of his raincoat.

The vial was only the size of a thumb, filled with a pale golden liquid.

In the dim alleyway, the liquid glowed faintly, looking like diluted liquid gold.

The moment the boy saw it, his eyes widened, his gaze bordering on greed.

He practically lunged for it.

But with a simple flick of the man’s wrist, the boy grabbed nothing but air, nearly tumbling into the sewage.

“What are you doing?!”

The boy’s eyes were red with desperation.

“I won’t short you a single cent!”

The man looked down at him as if looking at a dog driven mad by hunger.

Only after confirming the boy didn’t seem to be lying did he toss the bottle over with satisfaction.

The boy scrambled to catch it.

“This is a week’s supply,” the man said in a lazy drawl. “Remember, one drop a day, maximum. If something happens because you used too much, it has nothing to do with me.”

The boy wasn’t listening at all.

He had already impatiently uncorked the bottle and was sniffing the pale gold liquid, a look of near-ecstatic joy spreading across his face.

The man watched his reaction, a flash of contempt in his eyes.

Another fool.

There probably wouldn’t be a next time for this one.

He turned to leave.

Yet right at that moment, a completely ill-timed wail echoed from the entrance of the alley, the dark atmosphere utterly ruined by the foolish sound.

“Miss Phil! Now that the illusion is gone, didn’t I end up getting soaked anyway?! Waaaaah…”

The man’s footsteps stopped.

The boy froze too.

Both of them looked toward the alley entrance at the same time.

Through the curtain of rain, a blonde girl came rushing in with her hands over her head. Her coat and hair were already soaked, and she was letting out strange “Waaa” cries.

The air went silent.

The three of them stood there, staring at one another.