Goodman made me breakfast—fried eggs and sausage—and even packed two servings of beef short ribs for me to take with me. It seemed both of us believed we’d gotten the better end of the deal. I preferred to call it a “perfect trade experience.”

  Maybe he’d caught a glimpse of hope, because Goodman looked unusually relaxed, even in the mood to gossip about the Ainsworths. He focused especially on a series of modernization reforms that had started more than a decade ago.

  “Ainsworth didn’t used to use Ash,” he explained, sounding a little awkward. “It was Ashley who first did it during the financial crisis—and to be fair, it really helped at the time. Later, she tied the whole thing to virtual currency. After the crisis, all the Ash was bought back by the clade at prices far above their original value.”

  “You mean the clade might buy diamonds from me at higher-than-market prices too?”

  “That’s happened before. But right now, the clade isn’t short on cash,” Goodman said, his tone leaving no room for doubt as he helped me load the takeout containers into the car. “Anyway, I’ve got a rough idea of what you’re about to go through. Hey—whatever happens, do what you want to do. Treat everyone the way you treated me, okay?”

  I didn’t really understand what he meant by that last part. And this thing he called “Ash” reminded me of those tokens handed out on Southern plantations after the American Civil War—vouchers supposedly meant for freed Black workers. They couldn’t be traded on the open market and were only redeemable for food or clothing—usually at inflated prices. The system often left laborers trapped in perpetual debt. In essence, it was the same: a way to keep final control of compensation in the hands of the employer.

  If I couldn’t get what I was owed, then at the very least, I could make sure Ainsworth suffered a loss of equal value. The key to pulling that off was sitting in the urn tucked inside my bag. I had already envisioned, with a fair amount of venom, the spectacular collapse of the entire oil platform into the sea.

  But just as I was getting out of the car, I ran into the last person I ever expected to see.

  "Otto? Sweetheart, what are you doing here?"

  All the malice drained out of me in an instant. I dropped to a crouch and opened my arms. The little dog came bounding over, tail wagging, licking my face with gleeful abandon. The moment I saw Otto, I felt like a different person—my head flooded with happy things I wanted to share with him: how amazing the beef ribs tasted, how fresh the forest air had been that morning.

  I held him close and kissed him for a good while before I noticed Rafe watching me with a strange sort of seriousness. Right. This was his dog. Reluctantly, I nudged Otto’s head toward Rafe—he was the one who truly deserved to be the recipient of puppy kisses.

  “Put Otto down. He can walk on his own,” Rafe said, his voice steady. “I’ll take you to your room so you can rest. Tomorrow morning, the clade will begin your evaluation. It’s just to assess your abilities as a Hunter—nothing you need to worry about.” He hesitated, a hint of envy in his tone. “If you perform well, you might even break a record.”

  “What do I get if I do break a record?” Otto darted excitedly between Rafe and me, sometimes running ahead and blocking the already narrow hallway. I wished I could have a pesky little creature like this around for the rest of my life.

  Rafe paused, his gaze flicking—barely noticeably—toward a nearby checkpoint. “Uh… Overall capability is what really matters.”

  Well, I guess that means I don’t need to try too hard. I suppressed the urge to stare down the masked guards and followed Rafe through a hallway so dull it could’ve belonged in a prison. Compared to the Blue Vulture Hotel, this place was mind-numbingly boring.

  I thought I was fine—alert, even—but as soon as I lay down with Otto in my arms and felt the dizzy wave hit, I figured I must’ve been sick. I had never experienced anything like this: the moment my head touched the pillow, I physically couldn’t keep my eyes open.

  It was Rafe who dragged me out of bed again. Unfortunately for him, he got the full brunt of my morning mood—I turned my paranoia and hangover-grade headache into a verbal assault. I couldn’t even remember what awful things I’d said to him while half-asleep and half-dreaming.

  “No, you were just asleep. The doctor checked on you three times, and you didn’t wake up,” Rafe said, not angry but almost pleading, tugging me up by the collar and shoving me into the bathroom. “You’ve got an hour before your first test starts. Any time you’re late will be deducted from your score. Otto’s already had breakfast—no, you don’t have time to eat. Just take a shower.”

  I had zero interest in this test—Eternity was in my hands. Ainsworth Clade didn’t really have a choice. And there was something in the urn in my bag that I’d rather no one knew about. Drawing attention with record-breaking results was the last thing I needed.

  “What kind of... test is it, anyway?” I shouted from the bathroom.

  “I can’t tell you!” Rafe yelled back as he rummaged outside for something I could wear. “It’s mostly based on talent or experience—and you’ve got plenty of talent!”

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  Maybe it was something hardwired into Chinese genes, but once I put on that all-black outfit—like I was headed to a funeral—I started to feel the pre-exam jitters. After sleeping for nineteen hours straight, my stomach was cramping from hunger.

  Rafe patted my shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry, this isn’t your final exam. You can make any reasonable request of the examiner during the test—music, a couch, painting supplies… One person even asked for a claw machine.”

  “But you still won’t tell me what the exam actually is,” I muttered as we stopped in front of a door labeled “test room”—identical to every other door in the hallway, except for the half-heartedly taped-on A4 paper that gave the whole thing a very unmotivated vibe.

  Rafe sighed, lifted my hand, and knocked.

  “Come in.”

  The voice that answered was low and steady—oddly comforting, soothing away most of my headache and irritation. I rubbed my growling stomach and stepped into a nearly empty room containing just two armchairs. An older man sat in one, dressed in a Roman collar. He looked very stern and introduced himself as Father Brown (though I seriously doubted the need for clergy here—and not everyone in a Roman collar is a priest).

  I composed myself, adopting the proper posture for addressing clergy, and sat upright in the empty chair.

  Then… nothing happened. Father Brown just stared at me, his eyes widening steadily like he was seeing something I couldn’t.

  I started to get creeped out. I activated Hoffman’s Skill—no anomalies in Father Brown’s body, and no one else was in the room.

  Strangely, my Skill felt unusually easy to use—just a nudge, and I could already perceive several rooms away, spotting two guards and Rafe.

  Still… I yawned. The room seemed to hum with whispers, a gentle warmth spreading through me, my eyelids growing heavy. I leaned an arm on the chair’s armrest and rested my chin in my palm to keep from slumping over.

  “What… is happening?” I forced my eyes halfway open, barely making out Father Brown’s now-hunched figure rising slowly, reaching out a hand like the Grim Reaper.

  Something was wrong—this room, this man. Everything felt off. I wanted to move toward the door, but my entire body sank into darkness.

  Before, I might have panicked. But after several deep-sleep experiences, I was used to this feeling. It didn’t scare me.

  Except this time was different. When Rafe woke me up, I still remembered what I saw in the dream—vividly.

  “You again? That was fast. Too fast. Not good.”

  I was floating in darkness, completely paralyzed. I tried to raise a hand to rub my eyes and realized—I didn’t even feel like I had a body. No hands. No eyes. No head. No mouth.

  How was I supposed to respond?

  But it was Tuesday’s voice, so I didn’t panic. A soft force enveloped me, like I was cradled in a warm, gentle hand.

  “Darling, don’t get me wrong—I’m not upset to see you. Quite the opposite. You have no idea what agony I go through when you’re not here. Ironic, isn’t it? I’m a Resident, and yet I loathe Residents. I hate staying in Nowhere. But right now, I don’t have a choice.”

  The soft hand stroked my head. I felt like a puppy being petted—an overwhelming wave of comfort nearly knocked me out. Tuesday’s whisper came again, clearly in my ear.

  “Listen. Your plan is solid—especially the part about placing the marine biologist into the Life Furnace. But you don’t understand Residents. We change drastically depending on the environment. That one will devour every drop of oil the moment it comes in contact with the Furnace—and then turn all of you into part of its corpse storage.”

  “This piece of me—keep it with you. It’s how I can operate in your world. Darling, let me stay within ten meters of the marine biologist for five hours. I’ll make it do what it’s supposed to.”

  Before I could react, I was clenched tightly in a giant hand, shoved into a cramped, stifling space. Breathing grew harder. Blurred lights and indistinct noises began to swarm around me.

  “Wait—”

  “Don’t overuse your Skill again. And don’t go back into Nowhere until I reach out next time. It’s not safe for you right now. Goodbye, darling. We’ll see each other very soon.”

  I didn’t know what to say to Tuesday—I just wanted to stay a little longer. But a sharp jolt shattered the darkness, and I opened my eyes to find Rafe’s face looming above me, his mouth flapping rapidly, clearly agitated.

  I jerked my arm away from the hand pinning me down and felt something soft and unfamiliar pressing against my back.

  I was certain I hadn’t brought anything extra into this room. Figuring out what that thing was—and what the dream had meant—was far more urgent than getting angry.

  “You passed the first test. While you’re still in good shape, let’s move on to the second,” Rafe said, shoving a pencil into my hand and pressing it down against a blank A3 sheet. “I promise—once you’re done with the second test, I’ll explain everything. Just do me this one favor, okay? Trust me.”