The Bizarre Detective Agency光怪陆离侦探社

sleeps for over 20 years and wakes up in a future that’s even more distorted and chaotic.

Before that, the character Anna had disappeared, and upon waking, the protagonist’s focus becomes finding her. From that point on, the story really falls apart. I completely lost interest and started skimming through to the end. There, I saw that things get even crazier: Lu Li ends up in a psychiatric hospital and still only cares about finding Anna (gave me strong *Black Souls* vibes — like “Where is Alice?”).

Chapter 32: Ignorance is Bliss

Lu Li retrieved a kitchen knife from the kitchen and pried open the long wooden crate. From within the padding, he lifted out the statue.

The detective agency’s living room was relatively spacious—or perhaps its emptiness only made it seem so. Aside from a desk and bookshelf in the corner, a dining table and sofa beneath the window, there was little else in terms of furnishings.

Finding no suitable place for the statue, Lu Li simply placed it by the door.

Its pristine white stone contrasted sharply with the agency’s worn-down atmosphere. Lu Li removed his hat and casually placed it atop the statue, making it blend in slightly better.

Next was the oil painting. Lacking the tools to mount it on the wall, he set it into the empty bookshelf instead.

With these two gallery exhibits now in place, the detective agency no longer felt as lifeless as before.

The empty bookshelf led Lu Li to a new line of thought—although the library had been burned down, books could still be acquired through purchase.

He took out the only biography in the drawer and pulled out a piece of paper tucked inside.

[Important: Understand one’s current situation (Completed) – Gather 1,000 shillings to trade for more information with Hades]

[Secondary: Find a new place to live]

Picking up a pen, Lu Li added a new entry beneath it.

[Secondary: Purchase books to learn more about this place]

After sorting out his thoughts and confirming there was nothing else to add, he took out seven 100-shilling notes, placed them together with the paper, and tucked them back into the book.

He had less than 200 shillings left—his remaining funds for daily expenses, along with the 30 shillings he owed Oliver.

As for purchasing books, perhaps Oliver could inquire about the prices first. But before that, there was something else Lu Li needed to do.

There was still a long time before nightfall. It was time to ask some questions.

For free.


---

Ding-a-ling—

As Lu Li pushed open the wooden door, a gust of wind carried in, making the wind chime ring hurriedly.

“Oh, look who it is! I knew I wasn’t wrong about you. Saving up that much money so quickly—you’re truly the gold miner among us exorcists… I mean, a rising star.”

Hades’ exaggerated exclamation was accompanied by a flash of gold from his teeth as he spread his arms wide.

“You’ve said that three times now.”

Lu Li glanced around. The tavern was still as dim and empty as ever, devoid of both customers and potential clients.

“That’s because you’ve come here three times,” Hades said, his face shifting between light and shadow under the flickering oil lamp. “And none of those times have involved you spending money.”

He enunciated each syllable with emphasis.

“Let’s hope this isn’t the third.”

Lu Li sat down at the bar and got straight to the point. “I haven’t gathered the full 1,000 shillings yet.”

Hades’ enthusiasm visibly drained away—his outstretched arms fell onto the counter.

“I don’t know anything.”

Lu Li ignored his cold response. “You’ll get that 1,000 shillings sooner or later. And the further I progress as an exorcist, the more it benefits you, doesn’t it?”

Hades let out a derisive snort, his golden tooth flashing briefly. “What makes you think I’d gain anything from the rise of a fellow exorcist?”

Lu Li’s dark eyes reflected the flickering oil lamp as he calmly replied, “Because this fellow exorcist has many questions—and it just so happens that you have many answers.”

“The wealthiest people are often the stingiest. They refuse to act out of kindness or do anything that doesn’t benefit them.”

“You know, I’ve spoken to other exorcists.”

“Oh? And were they willing to share their knowledge at a lower price?”

“No, I simply asked them the standard market price for an exorcist’s gun.”

“….”

Hades was silent for a moment before suddenly breaking into an exaggerated grin. His enthusiasm returned as he said warmly, “Oh, look at this fine gentleman before me! The rising star of the exorcist world, Lord Lu Li! Your presence is an honor, and I shall answer all your questions without reservation.”

“That’s good. Let’s hope next time we can get straight to the point and save us both some time.”

Ignoring Hades’ attempts to play it off, Lu Li asked directly, “Where do ghosts go after they die?”

Hades quickly dropped his false enthusiasm and answered, “I don’t know. And I’m not lying—most exorcists don’t know where ghosts go. Perhaps only the top-tier demon hunters have that kind of knowledge.”

“Demon hunters?”

Lu Li noticed the change in terminology.

Exorcists and demon hunters—two different meanings.

“It’s exactly what it sounds like. You can think of them as an upgraded version of exorcists—those who can eliminate spirits rather than just banish them.”

Eliminating spirits…

A thought stirred within Lu Li. Did this mean he had already reached the level of a demon hunter? But could it really be that simple?

“Of course, it’s not that simple,” Hades said, noticing Lu Li’s expression. He shrugged. “The prerequisite for becoming a demon hunter is to personally eliminate a wraith-level ghost. If you manage to do that, your name will spread throughout the exorcist world even without you needing to advertise it.”

“Exorcists have special means of communication?”

“Mhm.”

“Can I know what it is?”

“That question will cost you 200 shillings. Friendly advice—don’t bother asking other exorcists. They’re not generous enough to hand out secrets to rookies. If you ask the wrong person, you might get beaten up.”

“How many demon hunters are there in Belfast?”

“Not too many, not too few.”

“Are there higher ranks beyond demon hunters? And does that rank require the ability to eliminate vengeful spirits?”

Hades let out another scoffing laugh. It was unclear whether he was mocking Lu Li’s question—or both of them.

“I don’t know the answer to your first question. But the second one? That’s easy.”

Leaning forward, Hades lowered his brow. The nearby oil lamp cast a sinister glow over his face.

He usually did this to emphasize that what he was about to say was both important and dangerous.

In a low voice, he spoke slowly.

“Vengeful spirits don’t die. What appears in our world is merely a projection. No matter what you do, you can’t truly harm their real form. Even if you somehow disperse their projection, they’ll eventually return. How soon they come back depends on their mood—it could take a long time, or just a moment.”

“So, if you encounter a vengeful spirit, run as far as you can. Don’t even think about ‘eliminating’ it.”

“No way to deal with them at all?”

“There might be a way, but I don’t know it.”

“What if escaping isn’t an option?”

“Pray that the spirit is willing to communicate—or that it has a strong sense of ‘ritual.’ That might buy you some extra time.”

“That sounds terrible,” Lu Li remarked.

Hades curled his lips into a smile, but this time, it lacked the usual crude arrogance. There was something unspoken—bitterness and a faint trace of fear.

With a quiet sigh, he said,

“Tell me about it. Exorcists might have more choices when dealing with spirits than ordinary people… but that also means we have to face the real horrors head-on.”

“Ignorance is bliss.”

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 33: A Day in the Life of Lu Li

Smoke curled lazily from a few chimneys lining the street.

Lu Li emerged from Mrs. Phyllis’ bakery, a warm paper bag in hand, its contents steaming faintly against the crisp morning air. As he had done before, he distributed the bread to the children gathered nearby.

Not all of them were familiar faces—some he recognized, others he didn’t—but without exception, they were polite, eager, and untainted by the grayer hues of the world around them.

In his other arm, he carried a second bag, heavier, filled with five pounds of oranges. This world no longer provided adequate nutrition through daily meals alone. Most residents subsisted on black bread, with the occasional fish or sliver of meat.

Lu Li made it a point to replenish his vitamins regularly. Malnutrition was not an option.

After handing out the last of the bread, he pulled two oranges from the bag, tossing them to the cheering children. Then, amidst the quiet greetings and nods from passersby, he made his way back to the detective agency.


---

Creak—

Dust drifted lazily in the dim interior, momentarily illuminated as it passed through the pale light filtering from the window.

Silence blanketed the detective agency, undisturbed—until the door swung open.

The sudden movement sent the dust scattering, retreating into unseen corners.

A set of keys arced through the air, landing atop the sofa with a soft metallic clatter.

Lu Li glanced around the increasingly familiar office. The portraits on the bookshelf remained in place. The sculpture by the door hadn’t wandered off.

Satisfied, he set the two paper bags on his desk and turned toward the kitchen.

As he moved, the loosely folded paper crumpled, the mouth of one bag dipping low. An orange the size of a clenched fist tumbled free, hitting the floor with a muted thud before rolling in slow circles.

Lu Li cast it a glance but didn’t bother picking it up. He continued into the kitchen.

Minutes later, he reappeared, hands damp. He made no move to dry them, simply leaned down, scooped up the runaway orange, and placed it back in the bag.

The other bag, the one holding the bread, was slightly damp. Wrinkled brown paper trapped the lingering heat, sealing it in.

Unconcerned, Lu Li pried the bag open, wiped his hands on it, and retrieved a soft, wheat-scented loaf. He took a bite.

With his free hand, he lifted the kettle. The lightness in his grip made him frown slightly. He emptied the last of the water into a cup.

He would need to fetch more soon. A full kettle cost one shilling.

Unhurried, he ate his bread, washing it down with slow sips of water. He ate in silence—no unnecessary chewing sounds, no breaks in rhythm. It was as if he were an extension of the quiet agency itself.

The bread was a full pound in weight—larger than the dense, dark loaves most people survived on. Spanning nearly two palm lengths, it shrank to the size of a clenched fist when pressed together.

Three minutes later, the bread was gone. He swallowed the last sip of water, then rose without hesitation, crumpled the empty paper bag, and took the kettle.


---

The detective agency was not a standalone building but a room within a long rowhouse—the largest room, but still just a part of it.

Most of his neighbors were sailors and fishermen. Yet despite the narrow corridors, the air lacked the stench of salt and fish.

At the water station, a handful of residents were already gathered. They stepped aside upon seeing Lu Li, offering polite nods. He returned the gesture.

"Boiled water again, Mr. Lu Li?" the attendant asked, smiling as he took the kettle.

Lu Li nodded.

The faucet opened, releasing a stream of steaming water.

Moments later, the kettle was full. Lu Li handed over a shilling, took his water, and left.

He had barely walked a few steps when a commotion broke out behind him.

"I want a kettle of hot water too! If the great detective drinks boiled water every day, it must be good for something!"

"Me too! Fill me a whole bucket!"

"Get lost, sailor! What the hell do you need that much for?!"

"For a bath, obviously!"

Bang.

The door shut, sealing off the argument behind him.

Lu Li set the kettle down on his desk, poured himself a cup, and shrugged off his black trench coat. For a moment, he weighed his options—coat rack or sculpture?

The coat rack won. Dressing and undressing the sculpture was too much of a hassle.

Outside the window, the street bustled with activity. A few curious pedestrians peered toward the agency, but the sheer curtains obscured their view.

Lu Li settled into his chair, nudged the steaming cup aside, and reached for the phone.

It rang for a while before being answered. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Madam Slava on the other end—it was Oliver.

"Hey, boss! Everything settled at the gallery?"

Lu Li ignored the unexpected switch and replied simply, "Yes. Are there bookstores in Belfast?"

Oliver hesitated, realizing belatedly that the one-word response had already answered his own question. He cleared his throat. "Of course! What do you need?"

"History or geography books. When you come by, I’ll cover the cost. Along with your cut for this job—thirty shillings."

"Boss, you're the best! Generous as always!"

Oliver’s excitement was tangible. Thirty shillings was no small sum—a family of three could live on seven or eight a day.

The line clicked dead.

Oliver was still grinning when a heavy breath sounded behind him.

He stiffened, his movements turning robotic as he turned around, a forced smile plastered on his face.

"M-Madam Slava… your—"

"Hmm?"

The thunderous hum of her rising tone sent a visible shudder through Oliver.

"I—I mean, Madam Lu Li… Your, um… love letter, is it ready?"

"It’s in my room. Pick it up from my doorstep later."

"Right away! Right away!"

His compliance did not earn him any reprieve. She remained where she stood, scrutinizing him.

"And how do I know you won’t peek?"

Oliver’s face was the very picture of sincerity. "Madam, please! A love so passionate could only be handled by my boss. We ordinary folk wouldn’t dare covet it!"


---

Back at the detective agency, Lu Li placed the phone back on its cradle and closed his eyes, waiting for Oliver’s arrival.

But as the evening deepened, as the last of the daylight faded and the streets emptied, Oliver never came.

Lu Li awoke from a light doze, blinking at the dimly lit office. He reached for a matchbox, struck a match, and lit the oil lamp.

Whoosh—

The small flame flickered, then steadied behind the glass cover.

Outside, the last few stragglers hurried home, their lanterns bobbing in the twilight.

A chill crept over his skin.

From the bookshelf, a faint shimmer stirred. A translucent figure in a white dress drifted forth.

Anna hovered near, scanning the office before lowering her gaze to meet his.

A smirk curled her lips.

"Hmph. You keep saying you don’t want me around, but your body tells a different story."

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 33: Lu Li’s Daily Routine

Thin plumes of smoke curled from chimneys along the street, a quiet testament to the waking city.

Lu Li stepped out of Mrs. Felin’s bakery, a warm brown paper bag cradled in his hands, steam rising from within. As he had done before, he broke the bag open and distributed fresh bread to the children gathered nearby.

They weren’t always the same children. Some he recognized, others were new, but all shared the same eager politeness.

For now, at least, they hadn’t been stained by the gray hues of this world.

A second paper bag rested in the crook of his arm—five pounds of oranges. In this world, food wasn’t just sustenance but survival. The average diet consisted of black bread and the occasional fish or scraps of meat. Without proper supplements, malnutrition set in fast.

Lu Li ensured his intake remained balanced.

When the last of the bread had been handed out, he retrieved two oranges, tossing them to the cheering children. Then, amidst nods and greetings from the locals, he returned to the detective agency.


---

The door creaked open.

Dust motes drifted through the cold, empty space, momentarily caught in the pale light filtering through the window before dissolving into the dimness.

Silence had settled into the agency, thick and undisturbed.

Until now.

The air shifted. Particles at the threshold scattered, and the quiet retreated to the corners, vanishing entirely.

Lu Li stepped inside.

His key ring arced through the air and landed on the sofa with a soft clink. His gaze swept across the room, taking stock. Everything was in place. The portrait on the bookshelf remained still. The statue by the door hadn’t wandered off.

Setting the paper bags on his desk, he turned toward the kitchen.

Behind him, the top of one bag slumped under its own weight. An orange, round and firm, tumbled free, hitting the floor with a muted thud before rolling a few inches.

Lu Li glanced back but didn’t stop.

The sink tap sputtered once before cold water rushed over his hands.

By the time he returned, his fingertips were still damp. He bent down, scooped up the orange, and dropped it back into the bag. The other bag—filled with bread—was slightly damp with trapped heat. He paid it no mind.

Opening it, he wiped his hands against the paper’s coarse surface before pulling out a loaf of soft, wheat-scented white bread.

A bite.

The texture gave way easily, a stark contrast to the black bread most people lived on.

Reaching for the kettle, he frowned at its lightness. Pouring what little remained into a cup, he made a mental note—water was running low. One shilling per kettle at the communal pump.

He ate without rush, silent, blending into the stillness of the office.

The loaf was large, almost as big as both palms side by side. Yet, if clenched, it would shrink to a lump no bigger than a fist.

Three minutes later, the bread was gone, washed down with the last of the water.

Lu Li stood, crumpled the empty bag into a tight ball, grabbed the kettle, and left.


---

The detective agency wasn’t a standalone building but one unit in a row of longhouses—his, by far, the largest.

Most of his neighbors were fishermen and sailors, their trade carrying the scent of the sea, though the hallways here were spared the brine.

The communal pump was occupied when he arrived, residents filling their own containers. When they noticed him, they stepped aside with quiet courtesy. He gave a nod of acknowledgment.

"Boiled water as usual, Mr. Lu Li?" The pump attendant smiled, taking the kettle.

"Yeah."

Steam billowed as scalding water poured in.

Lu Li exchanged one shilling, took the kettle, and turned to leave.

Behind him, the quiet gave way to a familiar bickering.

"I want a kettle of boiled water too! The detective drinks it all the time—must be good for you!"

"Me too! Fill a whole bucket for me!"

"Shove off, sailor! What do you need that much for?"

"To bathe, obviously."

The argument faded as Lu Li closed the agency door behind him.

He set the kettle on the desk and poured a fresh cup. Shedding his black trench coat, he weighed his options: coat rack or statue?

The statue was an inconvenience, dressing and undressing it every time. He chose the coat rack.

Through the window, the street pulsed with movement—pedestrians passing, curious glances flickering toward the agency, their views obstructed by sheer curtains.

Seating himself, he pushed the steaming cup aside and reached for the telephone.

It rang.

Once.

Twice.

A third time before the receiver clicked. This time, it wasn’t Mrs. Slava’s voice but Oliver’s.

"Hey, boss! Everything settled at the gallery?"

Lu Li didn’t question why he was the one answering. "Yeah. Is there a bookstore in Belfast?"

A beat. Then a cough. "Of course! What are you looking for?"

"General history or human geography. Bring them when you come by. I’ll cover the cost—thirty shillings total, including your commission."

Oliver whistled. "Generous as ever, boss! Thirty shillings is solid—hell, that’s more than most families spend in four days!"

The line went dead.

At the other end, Oliver grinned, still holding the receiver, when a heavy breath ghosted the back of his neck.

He froze.

Slowly, he turned, forcing a strained smile. "M-Mrs. Slava, your—"

"Hm?"

The single syllable, thunderous in its rise, sent a shiver down his spine.

"I-I mean, Mrs. Lu Li! Your… love letter. Is it ready?"

"In my room. Take it from my doorstep later."

"Y-Yes, ma’am!" Oliver bowed.

But she didn’t leave.

Instead, she studied him, her gaze sharp with suspicion. "And how do I know you won’t sneak a look?"

"You have my word!" Oliver straightened with mock conviction. "A love so fierce could only be for my boss! Us mere mortals wouldn’t dare covet such passion!"


---

Back at the agency, Lu Li set the receiver down and closed his eyes, slipping into light rest while he waited.

Time passed.

The sky outside dimmed.

Shadows stretched across the floor as stores closed, pedestrians quickened their pace, and the last traces of daylight surrendered to night.

Lu Li awoke, glancing around the dimly lit office. Oliver still hadn’t come.

Reaching for a matchbox, he struck one, its glow flaring briefly before he lit the oil lamp.

A quiet exhale.

The match was flicked into the trash. The lamp’s glass cover settled into place, bathing the office in a warm, flickering light.

Beyond the window, the city slowed. Stragglers moved through the dusk, lanterns in hand.

Then, the temperature dropped.

A chill curled at his back, ghosting up his spine.

From the bookshelf, a pale figure drifted forth, her translucent gown billowing slightly in the cold.

Anna hovered, glancing around before lowering her gaze to meet his.

A smirk tugged at her lips.

"Hmph. You keep acting all indifferent, but your body’s plenty honest."

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 34 – A New Companion: Anna

The translucent ghost drifted down onto the couch, adopting what might have passed for a noble posture—perhaps not entirely proper, but sufficient to fool Lu Li.

Behind the desk, Lu Li calmly recounted the events that had unfolded after dawn.

Anna sat for a moment before shifting uncomfortably. She couldn't physically interact with anything, so the act of sitting was nothing more than an illusion. With a faint sigh, she floated back toward the desk.

“So, in the end, you brought my painting and sculpture back with you?”

Under the flickering oil lamp, Anna leaned in. Her porcelain-doll features took on a faint blush, and her clear eyes gleamed like a sky full of stars, conveying a quiet excitement.

“So… does that mean you bought me?”

"Strictly speaking, you were taken as collateral,” Lu Li replied, either oblivious to the shift in atmosphere or simply indifferent to it.

Anna had expected a different reaction.

“I thought you’d be eager to go back to the gallery.”

“It’s not that bad.” Distracted, Anna only then realized how close she had gotten to Lu Li. She quickly pulled back behind the desk, the warm hue on her cheeks blending with the glow of the oil lamp—whether from the light or something else, it was hard to say.

“The gallery was never really my home, anyway. It was too empty… and full of terrifying ghosts.”

She made this statement without the slightest awareness that she, too, belonged to that category.

“The ghosts are gone. I took care of them.” Lu Li’s response was as expected.

But Anna misread his words as rejection. She lowered her head, her face sinking into shadow. Her expression was unreadable, but the faintest sound of stifled sobbing reached his ears.

Lu Li’s voice remained flat. “No… what I meant was, you can stay here.”

Anna’s head lifted slightly.

“There’s one condition,” Lu Li continued. “I might need your help in the future. To put it simply—I’ll be hiring you. But, as an exorcist, my work is dangerous.”

Anna hesitated. “Do I get a salary?”

“No.”

“…Why not?”

“Can you spend money?”

“…I guess not?”

“Then why would I pay you?”

“…That’s… a good point…”

Anna frowned, but in the end, even she had to admit her logic was flawed.

Lu Li leaned forward, elbows on the desk, fingers loosely interlocked near his lips, lost in thought. Though his detective agency now had a ghost employee, he wasn’t inclined to impose rules on her. He preferred a certain freedom, both for himself and those around him.

“I should apologize,” he said finally. “Bringing you here was my decision, and I never asked what you wanted. That was my mistake.”

Anna waved it off with a sheepish laugh. “It’s fine, really.”

“I dislike unnecessary complications and rigid structures. I won’t impose any restrictions on you. You’re free to stay here, or go outside—within reason. Just don’t break the law. But I’d advise against straying too far. There are other exorcists like me out there… but not all of them are as reasonable.”

Lu Li’s dark eyes met hers with quiet intensity, but he ignored whatever emotion flickered in her gaze.

“If a new case comes up, I’ll ask if you want to accompany me—I won’t force you. You’re essentially free. If not for the trouble it might cause, I wouldn’t care what you did.”

He leaned back. “Does that sound acceptable?”

Anna blinked, as if waking from a daze. “Wait… you’re really that generous?”

“I may have brought your painting back, but that doesn’t make us superior and subordinate,” Lu Li replied. “If anything, we’re just… two people who, for various reasons, have to live together, but aren’t familiar with each other yet.”

“Live together…”

A phrase a girl her age might dwell on unnecessarily.

Still, it was a mutually beneficial arrangement.

Anna gained the novelty of a new environment—and, in a way, a second chance at life. Lu Li acquired a spectral assistant… one that didn’t require a paycheck.

A fair trade.

Now, there was only one issue left: the nature of Anna’s ghostly existence.

“Can you feel any lingering connection to your painting?”

Anna hesitated before nodding, then shook her head. “That’s too vague.”

“Let’s break it down. Are you only able to appear after nightfall?”

“I don’t think so… I’ve never tried during the day. The gallery had employees and guests then—I didn’t want to scare them.”

“Does light harm you?”

“Bright light? No. Daytime? Not sure—I’ve never tested it.”

“How long can you stay outside the painting?”

“Usually an entire night. By morning, I get exhausted and need to return.”

“You get tired?”

“It’s like feeling sleepy when I was alive.”

“And resting?”

“Like sleeping, I guess. When I wake up, I feel fine.”

“So aside from your reversed sleep cycle, you function like a living person.”

“Pretty much.”

“Do you have any abilities?”

“Abilities?”

“Ghostly ones. Like Asina’s intest—uh, attacks. Or Lucy’s ability to distort perception and disrupt the environment.”

“…Why does that description feel so off?” Anna muttered before turning thoughtful. “I could try.”

She raised a hand.

Smack!

“…Huh. That actually worked.”

“Next time, try it on an empty cup. Water damage shortens the floor’s lifespan.”

“Oh. Right.”

“So… telekinesis?”

“Tele-what?”

“Moving objects with your mind.”

“Ohhh.”

Anna narrowed her eyes in concentration.

A wooden chair scraped an inch across the floor.

“…That was heavy.”

“So your current limit is slight movement?”

Anna nodded.

“That’s decent. Does it drain your energy?”

“A little. I feel a bit tired.”

“And exhaustion sends you back to your painting.”

“Yep!”

Their exchange concluded, Anna took her turn to ask questions—about exorcists, and why Lu Li’s gun could harm ghosts.

By 2 AM, Lu Li instructed her to return to the painting and rest. Come morning, they would see if she could exist in daylight.

As Anna faded into the oil painting, the detective agency fell silent again. The sculpture by the door remained motionless, still dormant.

Was it because it had left the gallery? Or was there another reason?

Time passed.

At 5:00 AM, the first pale light bled into the sky. Footsteps echoed on the cobblestone streets as early risers emerged.

Then, at some indistinct moment—

Anna drifted out of the painting.

She was inevitably drawn to the shifting shadows beyond the window. Floating closer, she brushed the gauzy curtain with her fingers.

The city outside stirred. People moved along the streets, their presence slipping into her awareness.

For the first time in a long while, she felt truly alive.

As if she no longer belonged to the night alone.

She turned slowly toward the desk.

Behind it, Lu Li watched her without surprise.

“Good morning, Anna.”

His voice was calm.

(End of Chapter)