So it's this kind of donut day!

  Ever since Maya greeted me, she'd kept staring, watching every move I made, so intently that speaking to her—even for me—felt like an interruption. The Hunter Supervisor seemed surprised by my appearance but didn't say a word, simply handing me a metal tray that looked as if it belonged in a prison.

  Holding the puppy at a safe distance, I watched as rings of dough dropped into the hot oil. The pale dough expanded, turning golden in the sizzling oil, and drifted along hidden currents into a metal basket.

  This was the only room that felt remotely lived-in. The walls and ceiling had yellowed slightly, and tables and chairs were scattered about haphazardly. Dozens of unfamiliar people either sat or stood around, yet I could clearly sense the intangible focus of attention—wherever my gaze landed, their movements stiffened slightly, and voices lowered, as if my mere presence made them uncomfortable.

  After I'd used Hoffman's Skill to observe everyone present, a fresh batch of donuts was personally placed on my tray by the Hunter Supervisor, who invited me to choose from among dozens of toppings.

  The cloying sweetness alone was enough to make my teeth ache in anticipation. In the end, I just sprinkled powdered sugar on mine, left two plain donuts without toppings for the puppy, and eagerly took a bite.

  It tasted incredible! So this was what a freshly-made donut was supposed to taste like! I was almost moved to tears and quickly broke off a small piece for Otto, preventing the puppy from climbing anxiously onto my lap. Maya, who had guided me here, continued staring and occasionally scribbled something into her notebook. The Hunter Supervisor seemed equally bad at small talk; he stood silently beside me, head lowered, occasionally twitching his lips as if he wanted to say something whenever he saw me take a bite of my donut. I wasn't going to invite trouble by asking "What's wrong?" If he chose not to speak, it meant whatever it was couldn't be important.

  “You can't have any more—this isn’t healthy food for puppies. I'll get you some beef jerky later, okay? Or duck jerky? Duck jerky it is, tonight’s snack.” I squatted down and kissed the puppy on the head.

  Otto quickly narrowed his eyes, sinking into a comfortably sleepy state. Taking a stack of napkins, I sat at a table and slowly ate a donut covered in strawberry jam, accompanied by iced lemon tea, feeling so comfortable it made me drowsy.

  The room fell silent briefly, then burst into even louder conversation as people surged toward the doorway.

  It was Rafe, acting as if nothing at all had happened, radiating a sunny, cheerful glow wherever he went, provoking enthusiastic greetings. Even Roman Grane, who'd remained silent beside me, threw an arm around Rafe’s shoulders and exchanged a few words with him. The hot donuts had numbed my brain, and it took me quite a while to realize the Hunter Supervisor was probably inquiring how the earlier commotion had ended.

  My Skill brought me immense confidence, so much that I didn’t feel nervous even when Roman Grane looked my way. After all, he was someone I could tear apart with just a thought—I found no reason to be afraid.

  Only after Rafe had chatted with everyone else did he finally approach me—which meant he wouldn’t drag the entire chat to my side. Intentional or not, I felt relieved. But that gratitude instantly vanished when his hand reached for my donut.

  “If you want one, make your own.” I slapped his hand away as if swatting a fly, and despite already being full, defiantly took a large bite of the donut. Rafe merely sighed, took a cookie from the dessert table, bit into it, and placed it—onto my plate!

  The thought of cookie crumbs falling onto my donut irritated me, but considering I had just shot a hole through Rafe’s stomach, I decided to pretend this hadn’t happened.

  “What are you doing here? When can I leave?”

  Rafe looked slightly troubled. “Are you in a hurry to do something else?”

  “You enjoy people-watching? I don’t.” I wiped my oily hand on Otto’s head, making his black fur shine like polished shoe leather. “Anyway, I'm done eating.”

  “Fresh donuts are made only when a clade celebrates a Hunter’s promotion—and you're today's main character.” Rafe waved and smiled warmly in a certain direction, his voice full of good humor. “I suppose you haven’t made your inaugural speech or met your subordinates yet.”

  Oh god, everything had become far too complicated—even more complicated than simply killing everyone in this building. I genuinely felt I needed alcohol to relax. Picking up Rafe’s champagne glass, I sniffed it and found soda inside.

  “I only drink when opening a Path. Want anything? I'm afraid no hard liquor is served in this building. How about a beer instead?”

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  Consuming alcohol in a place where I couldn’t relax felt more burdensome to me. I shook my head, declining Rafe's kindness, and casually asked, “Why are you suddenly so enthusiastic, acting like you’re my subordinate?”

  Then I saw Rafe lower his head, showing an uncertain expression.

  “You've got to be kidding me?”

  “With your current position, you can access Ainsworth's resources—the flight from Sydney to Shenyang leaves in four days. If you have matters to deal with here, you should hurry.” Rafe pulled me up from the chair. “You’ve met the analyst, Maya. After seeing your report, she immediately applied to transfer to your team… Half of the analysts made similar requests, but she was the most determined.”

  “Don’t try distracting me with such stupidity—not even Otto buys that. What do you mean ‘my team’? What exactly is my position now?”

  My stomach twisted anxiously, even making me feel as if Tuesday was moving inside the fat of my abdomen—though that was obviously impossible. Rafe squeezed my shoulder, quietly suggesting he take me back to the room to rest. I didn't refuse, leaving without saying goodbye as the tea room atmosphere grew livelier.

  It was the same room as before, but now the entire world felt different. I stripped off my pants, sweat-soaked from everything I'd been through, and immediately felt uncomfortable—I'd only washed a small part of myself in the bathroom.

  Even Rafe looked different to me now. With my back to him, I casually stripped off my tank top and underwear, throwing them on the floor without a hint of awkwardness before stepping into the shower. I intended to thoroughly cleanse myself, inside and out, but having eaten too many donuts, the hot steam quickly made me sleepy. After a quick rinse, I wrapped myself in a towel and stepped out of the bathroom.

  Just like at home, Otto lay by the door, wagging his tail as soon as he saw me and leaping onto my bed, staring at me expectantly.

  Rafe stood beside the bed, his back to the entire room, as if he'd suddenly developed an endless fascination with the grey wall outside the window. I put on a clean robe and lay down next to the dog, feeling oddly guilty—as if I had stolen someone else's dog right in front of their humans.

  "You mentioned a promotion. Shouldn't mine be called a parachute drop instead? I don't even know what position I hold. Doesn't anyone suspect there's something shady going on here?" I buried my face in the dog’s fluffy chest, and a few deep inhales helped ease my irritation. "Even in China, I’ve never heard of a nepotism case less convincing than mine."

  "Well... it’s a bit complicated," Rafe said from the couch across from the bed, closing his eyes like he was in pain. "Any organization has internal disagreements—Roman is part of the radical faction. He has ideas that need someone to test them."

  "Every newly appointed leader has ideas. So are they called radicals when their ideas are too extreme and get too much support?"

  Rafe threw a pillow at my head. "Roman believes the Ainsworth Clade should manage hunters in the most traditional way."

  "And that’s considered radical? What’s next, the conservatives rubbing sticks together for fire and throwing rocks at kangaroos?"

  I didn’t want Rafe throwing anything else at me, so I grabbed the blanket and sat up, signaling that I absolutely wasn’t going to fall asleep.

  According to Rafe, hunter society was heavily influenced by the outside world. Most clades were now shifting toward a corporate management style—money and contracts were becoming the main connections between hunters and clades, although the contracts were stricter than regular business ones. Clades expanded by signing more hunters, and hunters aimed to join the largest clade possible.

  "Wait, isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?" My drowsiness vanished. I pulled Tuesday out from my abdomen and placed her on the pillow. "What, are hunters supposed to be used like Collections now?"

  Rafe stayed silent for so long it made me uneasy. Finally, he said, "I’m the least controversial person in the team. Just enjoy your captain’s privileges and leave the rest to him."

  Enjoy the authority without taking responsibility? I updated the message in the Tuesday doll.

  "What does Roman Grane really want? What’s he planning for me?"

  The reply in the toy updated almost instantly.

  "Your hunter supervisor believes you might be able to open the Path. You're his greatest hope of becoming a hunter himself."

  Right. That terrifying thought suddenly hit me.

  How the hell did Roman Grane become the supervisor of a major clade’s hunters if he’s not a hunter himself?