Chapter 113

Chapter 113: Payment

Yu Sheng had known the Special Operations Bureau would send someone over. The moment Little Red Riding Hood reported that angel cultists had appeared in the museum, the bureau was bound to confirm details with him—the “special involved party”—as quickly as possible. And the most likely people to come were Li Lin and Xu Jiali, who at least had some connection with him.

What Yu Sheng hadn’t expected was that it wouldn’t be just the two of them. Second Squad Captain Song Cheng came as well.

In the living room at No. 66, Wu Tong Road, Yu Sheng studied the burly, seasoned-looking captain with open curiosity. Song Cheng was a middle-aged man with short black hair and slightly dark skin. A faint scar showed beneath his neck. He wore a plain black coat over a white shirt, and you could see the outline of muscle through the fabric. He wasn’t as massive as Xu Jiali, but he carried the unmistakable presence of a frontline fighter.

With the captain present, Li Lin and Xu Jiali sat stiffly on the sofa.

At the same time, Song Cheng was taking in the room with equal curiosity. It was his first time stepping into this hidden “otherworld,” No. 66, Wu Tong Road—currently one of the most mysterious places in the Borderland.

To him, it felt like an ordinary home. Everything looked normal: complete furniture, complete appliances, all of it fitting the Borderland’s current social reality perfectly. Nothing was too new, nothing too old. It looked exactly like what a middle-class household should look like.

That didn’t match his experience at all.

The Borderland wasn’t lacking in “residential” otherworlds. He was familiar with the gloomy little house, Dorm 404, and the “Apartment 6” that appeared and vanished at the edge of the city. Those places also looked like normal homes. First-time entrants might even relax, thinking they’d stepped into a harmless empty house.

But there were always tells—something that clashed with reality. Usually an object from the wrong era, or something placed where it didn’t belong. A brass oil lamp next to an electric light. A dripping timepiece on a windowsill. A window set into the floor. It always felt like something non-human was trying hard to imitate a human home—getting most of it right, then slipping on the details.

But not here. At least, not in anything he could see.

…Assuming he ignored the two dolls sitting on the coffee table watching TV, and the fox seriously grooming her own tail.

Yu Sheng’s voice broke the awkward silence. “Uh… want tea?”

“Oh, no need to bother. Water is fine.” Song Cheng smiled, pulling his gaze back politely. Then he apologized. “Sorry for coming so suddenly. This involves dark angels, and some information can only be released to third parties with my on-site authorization.”

“It’s fine,” Yu Sheng said, waving a hand. “I was just curious what kind of person the ‘captain’ Li Lin always talks about is. Nice to meet you.”

The two Irenes on the coffee table turned their heads at the polite exchange and complained in perfect sync, “Your human social stuff is such a hassle.”

Song Cheng paused, then finally couldn’t help asking. He raised a hand and pointed at Irene. “I’ve been wanting to ask… didn’t the report say there was only one?”

Li Lin and Xu Jiali looked at Yu Sheng too, still baffled. When Yu Sheng had door-opened to invite them in earlier, they’d seen two Irenes walking around and genuinely thought they were hallucinating.

“There was a little accident,” Yu Sheng said, rubbing his hands. “The number increased. Just treat it as the result of my research with Irene.”

Li Lin blurted out before he could stop himself, “Then in the future… will there be more?”

Yu Sheng thought for a moment and nodded seriously. “Maybe.”

Li Lin went stiff and didn’t dare ask any further.

Song Cheng’s expression shifted like he’d stepped into a world he didn’t understand. Somehow, this absurd conversation flowed so naturally between them.

But he didn’t forget why he was here.

“I came for two things,” Song Cheng said. He gestured for Xu Jiali to open the briefcase and place a file envelope on the coffee table. “One is to confirm details about what Little Red Riding Hood reported—angel cultists appearing in the otherworld museum. The other is to deliver something. This is the full set of legal registration materials and certification for Hotel. Take a look. If anything is unclear, ask me.”

Registration materials for Hotel as a legal organization.

Yu Sheng had almost forgotten this was happening. His eyes lit up at once. He pulled the envelope closer, and one Irene immediately leaned in too (the other stayed absorbed in the TV). Together, they opened it.

First came a folded certificate with a black cover. Deep, solemn red ink stamped a circular emblem of the Borderland Council and the diamond emblem of the Special Operations Bureau. Inside was Hotel’s registration info: registered location, registration time, business type, name, and more. The big HOTEL printed in the center made Yu Sheng feel strangely grounded.

Then there was a copy of the certificate… and two small black devices that looked like USB drives.

“These are your data drives,” Song Cheng explained. “They also contain a special version of the Border Comms program. Plug one into any computer capable of networking, and that computer will temporarily gain access to the bureau’s information platform. It can log into Border Comms like your customized phone. There’s a built-in public account for Hotel. It can’t be changed or deleted.”

He continued evenly, as if reciting a standard briefing. “The devices have their own security measures, so you don’t need to worry about leaks or tampering. When you remove them, they clear access records. Also, if one is seriously damaged, it will automatically alert the bureau and transmit the last coordinate before destruction.”

“…That’s impressive,” Yu Sheng said, staring at the inconspicuous devices. He didn’t understand tech, but it felt like black tech—something not on the same level as normal electronics.

“The Special Operations Bureau’s technology is trustworthy most of the time,” Song Cheng said with a faint smile. “So in extreme situations, this can also be used as a one-time distress device.”

Yu Sheng tilted his head. “If this breaks inside my house, can it still send the coordinates back?”

Song Cheng’s smile froze for half a second before he recovered. “That’s why I said most of the time.”

Yu Sheng laughed and tucked the items away. Then he raised a hand, called Foxy over, and handed one data drive to her. “You keep this in your tail as a safety backup.”

Foxy said, “Oh,” and stuffed it somewhere into her tail before wandering back to keep grooming.

“After you finish, don’t forget to sweep,” Yu Sheng reminded her. “Don’t get fur everywhere.”

“Mm!”

Song Cheng’s smile stayed stiff. After a long moment, he blurted out, “…Where did she put it?!”

Yu Sheng chuckled. “I figured your report didn’t include that detail. Foxy has a bunch of weird abilities. You’ll get a chance to learn about them later. For now, let’s talk about what happened in the museum.”

“We’ve already started the arrest operation,” Song Cheng said, pulling himself back into business. “We’re screening suspects among the active population in South City using technical methods. All external routes in the Borderland have checkpoints now. As long as those two cultists are still operating in Boundary City, catching them is only a matter of time.”

Xu Jiali added, “Angel cultists are always elusive and almost never leave eyewitnesses alive. They’re usually incredibly hard to catch. The agents handling this say it’s the kind of smooth operation you’d never see in eight lifetimes.”

“Sure,” Yu Sheng said casually. “They didn’t leave anyone alive this time either. The dead just talked. That’s all.”

Song Cheng’s expression shifted, and when he spoke again, his tone had turned grave. “That’s exactly what I wanted to discuss—your ability to converse with the dead, and Hotel’s overall strength. The bureau hopes we can have more cooperation in the future.”

As he spoke, he pulled a thick envelope from his bag and placed it on the coffee table.

Yu Sheng froze, then quickly guessed what it was.

He opened it and stared. “Bonus? A tip bonus? That’s a lot.”

“It’s payment for assisting in the capture of angel cultists,” Song Cheng said, very serious. “Even though they haven’t been caught yet, the help you provided is far beyond what a normal informant can offer. All cooperation with the Special Operations Bureau has corresponding compensation. You just became a Spirit Realm Detective and Investigator, so you may not be familiar with this. When it involves dangerous targets like angel cultists, the bureau’s budget is always generous.”

Yu Sheng barely heard him.

All he could think about was that Irene’s new TV finally had funding. And Foxy’s chicken legs. And his whole pile of plans.

This made money way faster than writing books.