[Congratulations, Host. Progress has reached 40.8%. You have earned the second-round random three-choice reward.]

[Reward One: The host’s strength will be greatly enhanced.]

[Reward Two: Transformation Overtime Card. Besides the mandatory thirty minutes, the host may add up to two extra hours of transformation per day.]

[Reward Three: The host will possess an IQ unlike ordinary people.]

Thanks to the last task, Mujin jumped straight into the second stage. But honestly, these three rewards looked good without being truly good.

She knew this System. It loved playing word games with her.

Take “greatly enhanced strength.” It didn’t say in which form. If she picked it and it boosted her Sparrow form, that’d be a waste.

And “an IQ unlike ordinary people” sounded like “you’ll be smarter,” but listen—fools also have IQs different from ordinary people.

She compared them back and forth, then chose the [Transformation Overtime Card].

It was described the most clearly. She didn’t see any loopholes. It might save her in an emergency.

Also, from years of grinding exams: when two options are short and one’s long, you pick the long one.

After claiming the reward, Mujin planned to head back to the dorm.

Before moving, she glanced back, almost subconsciously, at the entrance to the teaching building.

She wasn’t even sure what she was looking for. Zhou Ruiyang had already gone in, yet she still wanted to look that way.

His words earlier had been blunt, but Mujin really liked hearing them.

Her own thoughts were similar.

If a man meets a girl only a few times and starts liking her just because she chased him, then not long from now he’ll do the same to another woman.

As Hong Shixian, the most clear-headed scumbag of this century, said: Today I can choose you for love; tomorrow I might discard you for love. Love is the least reliable thing.

What holds a relationship together usually isn’t love. It’s responsibility.

To be fair, if Mujin were a girl who truly liked Zhou Ruiyang, she might’ve been moved by his blunt but sincere speech.

Too bad she was only a temporary girl, and she might never appear in front of Zhou again.

Yes—Mujin didn’t plan to show up as Yewanmu anymore. The guy was too sharp. If she stayed around him too long in a girl’s guise, she’d probably slip up.

So, sorry… we only just met, but this time it’s really goodbye, little lamb.

From now on, the one by your side will only be Mujin.

Mujin was still calculating in her head when a prompt from the System suddenly chimed out of nowhere.

[Host has entered the third-round stage. A large-scale quest will be issued: “The Sparrow Girl’s Repayment of Kindness.”]

[First: Stay by Zhou Ruiyang’s side and issue fanservice handouts. Each completion grants 1% progress. No cap. (Limited to once per day.)]

[Second: Help Zhou Ruiyang find happiness. Task reward: “Transformation Pill.”]

[Transformation Pill details: After taking it, the host must seek a human to give a spoken seal. Whatever the human names will be the form the host transforms into. Note: Only usable in Sparrow state; in human state it’s just candy.]

Her pretty eyes went unfocused.

What was this?!

One completion gives 1%. That means sixty days would be 60%!

Her current progress was already over forty. Add it up—two months and she could finish the whole thing!

Which meant she didn’t need other tasks at all. Just do this repayment right, and she could return to herself.

But these two repayment tasks were seriously absurd. “Fanservice handouts” were basically what she’d been doing before.

At least sixty drops of fanservice? Were they treating her like a fanservice girl?!

And the most ridiculous part was the daily limit of once. That meant she’d have to catch Zhou Ruiyang every single day and lift a little skirt to hand out “benefits”!?

One day is fine, but dozens of days, lifting a little skirt in front of the same person, day after day…

Is that something a normal person could do!?

As for the second task’s reward, it was even more straightforward. Get a Transformation Pill, then find Zhou Ruiyang to give the spoken seal. Wouldn’t she turn back immediately?

But that description was abstract as heck. Make Zhou Ruiyang feel happiness? Happiness is way too abstract.

How was she supposed to give him happiness?

Wait.

Her brows knitted. This wasn’t simple.

She had planned not to appear as a girl anymore, yet right after she made that decision, the System rolled out two tasks that basically forced her to drop that idea.

System, I feel like you’re working hard to manufacture chances for me to get close to little lamb.

[Hint to Host: Repayment is born from the host’s own heart. This System only issues based on actual conditions. Whether to accept the tasks is entirely your choice.]

Mujin lifted her willow brows and fumed inwardly: How am I supposed to choose? Even if I skip the second task, one fanservice drop gives 1%. If I bust my back all day on regular tasks, I might not even hit 0.5%. Isn’t this textbook “forcing a decent girl into turning tricks”?!

[So are you doing it or not.]

She suddenly deflated.

Doing it…

······

After school in the afternoon, Zhou Ruiyang got back to the dorm first. Mujin was standing on his desk, spacing out.

“How come there’s no internet, Mujin?”

“I don’t know. You take a look.”

Zhou booted up his computer. It really showed “not connected.” He tried all sorts of fixes, but nothing worked. In the end, he went down to the dorm manager and borrowed the meter room key to check the source.

Sure enough, after a quick investigation, Zhou found their dorm’s breaker had tripped.

He was puzzled. A trip is a self-protective mechanism when there’s overload, leakage, or a short circuit.

The meter room housed the breakers for every dorm on the floor. If a trip happened, at least half the rooms should’ve gone dark.

So why was only their dorm out?

Zhou smelled something off. He thought maybe someone did it on purpose, but the dorm manager said no one had borrowed the key.

The lock on the meter room was oddly designed. The lockpicking ace Hao Ren had once tried to crack it to avoid power cuts, and failed.

So if no one borrowed the key, no one could’ve gotten in.

Could it really just be coincidence?

With no clues, Zhou left the meter room. As he locked the door and turned to go, he looked up without meaning to.

That one look revealed a blind spot.

All the dorm doors shared the same design, with a glass transom above them.

Maybe because it was old, the transom had cracks, even a small gap.

A new guess clicked into place.

People might not get in, but if it were a Sparrow…

Would that do it?