Bai Ya’s cake shop wasn’t inside the train station—it was outside. To buy the cake, Yue Ge first had to cross through the station and exit.

But compared to the bustling stations Yue Ge remembered, this one was eerily quiet, looking like it wasn’t even open for business. He didn’t spot a single other passenger on his way out—only one or two staff members near the exits. Yue Ge showed them his ticket, briefly explained his errand, and they let him pass, reminding him to return before the train departed.

Once outside, Yue Ge understood the silence. The station wasn’t closed to the public—it simply hadn’t opened yet. According to the notice board, only two trains ran here each week, and the fares were exorbitant.

Ordinary people rarely left the city without reason. But the Organization was different. Its nature demanded it spend heavily to maintain this railway. Many things—especially those that couldn’t be shipped through official channels—relied on this line. Thus, this railway mostly served unaffiliated Chosen Ones, who preferred the Organization’s routes over official ones.

For the vast hordes of monsters, Chosen Ones were always a rare few. Their scarcity meant these unaffiliated Chosen Ones traveled frequently for work—it was normal. Unlike ordinary people, they didn’t fear monsters attacking mid-journey. So, the Organization’s customers were usually them.

As for profitability? Yue Ge guessed it was bleeding money. But the Organization had its own goals, pouring resources into this railway regardless. Probably only two entities could afford such a line: the government, and the obscenely wealthy Fate Organization.

In his past life, a company reaching this scale would be unthinkable. But here, it made sense. The reason was simple: besides the government, the Organization was the only source of Essence. Every Chosen One outside official forces—and every Essence circulating on the black market—traced back to them. The government never sold Essence; nearly all of it went to the Force.

Conversely, the Organization’s growth to this level—and its near-parity with the government—was tied to this very strategy. At this point, the government couldn’t move against them. It had to tolerate their existence.

That was the "Organization"—a behemoth so vast that a mere title, without a name, was enough to know what it meant.

While explaining this, Bai Ya barely glanced at her tablet. Like Yue Ge, she gazed out the window, her voice flat. He hadn’t understood the expression on her face then—perhaps she always looked like that, as if nothing mattered. But he’d sensed she was hiding something.

In their few days together, Yue Ge had never seen Bai Ya show strong emotions. From their first meeting, she’d been this way—even when asking him to stay, her tone held almost no inflection. A doll-like girl.

Visually, Bai Ya was undeniably perfect, her snow-white hair dreamlike. But living with her wore down most impulses with her near-apathetic nature. Besides, Yue Ge had his own priorities. "Love" or "impulse" weren’t at the top of his list. Their current distance—neither close nor distant—was ideal. He stayed beside her not just to gather intel, but also, as Bai Ya said, to repay his debt.

Whatever her reason for giving him that Essence vial, the debt stood. He wouldn’t run from it. His goals and hers didn’t conflict.

Lost in these thoughts, Yue Ge walked down the street toward the cake shop Bai Ya described. From his observations, besides coffee, her few joys centered on sweets. She claimed sugary things replenished brain glucose better.

After leaving the station behind, the streets finally grew lively. Yue Ge found the shop quickly. Though called a cake shop, it looked more like a buffet restaurant—cake displays replaced food trays, but otherwise, it was a standard eatery offering takeout.

Just as Bai Ya said, the place was packed. Even at noon, checkout lines snaked toward the door. Some customers ate inside after paying; others took their cakes to go.

No "Fate" insignia hung outside, so Yue Ge couldn’t flash Bai Ya’s card for special treatment. After picking cakes for both of them, he joined the queue. Thankfully, the line moved fast. Soon, it was his turn.

"Do you take card payments?" Yue Ge placed the cake box on the counter and pulled out Bai Ya’s black card.

"I... I’ll try." The cashier eyed the unfamiliar card doubtfully. If Yue Ge hadn’t looked serious, he’d have thought it was a toy.

As the cashier reached for the card, a slender, pale hand darted from the next queue and snatched it away.

Yue Ge instinctively pinned the hand to the counter, slamming the card down. He felt fierce resistance—strength far beyond an ordinary person’s. A normal man would’ve been thrown off balance. But Yue Ge held firm. After a brief struggle, he slammed the hand flat against the counter.

*Bang!*

The crack echoed through the shop. Checkout lines froze. Every head turned.

Yue Ge followed the arm upward. To his surprise, the culprit wasn’t a girl but a boy in gender-neutral clothes and a cap—easily mistaken for a girl if not for his flat chest.

"It hurts..." The boy winced, tears welling as he tried to pull his hand free.

Yue Ge released him, reclaiming the card. "Swipe it," he told the stunned cashier.

After payment cleared, Yue Ge pocketed the card and grabbed the cake bag.

"Hey! Wait!" The boy rubbed his bright red hand and chased after him, abandoning his own purchase. "Where’d you get that card?"

"Someone gave it to me," Yue Ge replied without turning.

"Impossible." The boy scowled. "Cards like that? Only a handful in the Organization have them. You found it. Hand it over, or you’re finished when they trace it."

Truth was, fewer than five people in the entire Organization held such cards. He knew all their faces. Yue Ge’s casual attitude proved he didn’t grasp its value—so he must’ve stolen it.

Yue Ge sighed, ruffled the boy’s hair, and walked on. Bai Ya was waiting. He owed no explanations to strangers. Still, he hadn’t expected the card to be this recognizable—like every random Organization member on the street could ID it.

*Do kids work here now?*

The boy gritted his teeth. "If you won’t talk, I’ll make you."

"Hm?" Yue Ge glanced back. A wisp of Death Aura surfaced, staining his right eye pitch-black while the left remained normal—an eerie sight. An icy chill radiated from him.

*The Reaper’s Gaze.*

No living thing could face Death without fear. Strength didn’t matter. That’s why, during the mole’s execution, the creature could’ve fled but stood frozen as the Reaper Scythe pierced its body. Those who couldn’t endure the pressure fainted instantly.

Yue Ge needed no training. No thought. These instincts were carved into his soul during the Reaper’s Death Aura baptism. As natural as breathing.

As Bai Ya said: Essence wasn’t power—it was *instinct*. Even without memories, the body reacted.

Sadly, Yue Ge’s control over Death Aura was still weak. Not enough to kill with a glance. The boy merely faltered for a second before snapping back, his face grim.

He didn’t know what happened. For a heartbeat, he’d seen his own death: a sword through his heart, wielded by Yue Ge’s ice-cold gaze. The vision felt too real. Noon sunlight couldn’t warm the chill in his bones.

*This guy... trouble.* He wasn’t a combat-type Chosen One. Forcing a fight might get him killed.

Before he could decide, Yue Ge turned away, walking off without a backward glance—as if daring an attack from behind.

The boy clenched his jaw but didn’t follow. He sighed, pulled out a phone, and dialed. Gazing at the sky, he murmured, "Crow? This is ‘Huan’... I might have a small problem."