As Yue Ge had anticipated, Bai Ya didn’t give him any trouble that afternoon. She only assigned him minor tasks—passing test tubes and forceps, or carrying a tablet while following her around. For anything that might expose him, even something as simple as cleaning test tubes, Bai Ya handled it herself, discreetly and without drawing attention.

Around five p.m., after drawing another tube of blood from the strange bird, Bai Ya clapped her hands and dismissed everyone. Though she’d requisitioned all hazardous materials from storage, not a single specimen was processed by day’s end. At this rate, it might take another day or two. Yue Ge watched the Essence creation process closely—but it felt oddly off. Not too complex… far too simple. Standing nearest to her, he saw clearly: Bai Ya merely stabbed a knife into the bird’s corpse, pulled it out, and repeated the motion endlessly.

Few words were exchanged all day, yet the test tube rack held two and a half rows of green blood. Though utterly baffled, Yue Ge kept his confusion silent. Others watched with rapt attention, not a hint of boredom on their faces. He simply carried out Bai Ya’s instructions diligently.

Bai Ya’s dismissal order was absolute—*everyone* had to leave. Within two minutes, the once-crowded lab emptied. Even the blond young man left without hesitation, though his gaze lingered on Yue Ge until Yue Ge glanced back.

Naturally, “everyone” excluded Yue Ge and Bai Ya. The moment others left, Bai Ya’s expression softened to her usual calm. She untied her hairband casually. Though silent, her whole posture radiated an unmistakable *“I’m exhausted”* vibe.

“Yue Ge,” she called from her chair.

“What is it?” He kept tidying the table, not turning around.

“Come back tomorrow. Wake me at eight.” Legs pressed together, hands resting on her knees. Since she wore the lab coat today, she hadn’t bothered with a skirt. Changing into it upon entering the lab was a deeply ingrained habit—almost ritualistic. But rituals were unnecessary now. After a pause, she shrugged it off and tossed the coat onto the table.

“Sure.” Yue Ge hesitated. “Just set an alarm?”

“No.” She propped her head up. “Alarm clocks are annoying.”

“…Wouldn’t me waking you be just as disruptive?”

“Not at all. Call my name a few times—I’ll wake up. Better than an alarm.”

“Whatever you say.” He shrugged. Barring surprises, he rose early anyway. Bai Ya disliked being woken, but she knew context. Her morning temper was mild—maybe just silently staring at him during breakfast. *Only him*, though. If Sunan sat where Yue Ge did, Bai Ya would’ve complained outright. Their bond, after all, spanned over a decade—since Bai Ya’s earliest memories.

“Tidy that area casually. We’ll use it tomorrow,” Bai Ya said. “Then we’ll head back. Need to prep your room.”

“Far?”

“Outside. Walking… probably quite a distance. Want to walk?”

“Either’s fine. Just so you know—I can’t drive. Might learn someday.” Yue Ge sighed. He had many goals, but time was scarce. Following Bai Ya consumed most of it. Top of his list? Cooking. He’d tried it during healthier days—the feeling wasn’t bad. Now, it was cook or share takeout with Bai Ya. Her home was off-limits to others; documents (mostly confidential) cluttered her space. Hence the mess, despite her high status. She’d always handled it alone—until Yue Ge arrived. She’d since dumped all chores on him. Not why she kept him, but she admitted his help. He rarely asked why. Completed tasks first, waited for explanations later. And it wasn’t feigned compliance—it was his nature. He simply didn’t press. This deepened Bai Ya’s curiosity. *No normal person acts like this.* Too many unknowns shrouded him. She never believed his “amnesia”—she’d seen real cases. But she wouldn’t dig. Trust was part of her creed. She chose him; she’d try to believe.

“You don’t need to learn,” Bai Ya said nonchalantly. “I rarely go out. Dedicated cars handle it. Your driving skills? Irrelevant.”

“How long to learn?”

“Two or three days, if fast. I can sign you up with the Operations Department. Heard you just crash into a wall once or twice… and you’re set.” She said it with a perfectly ordinary expression—describing something terrifying.

“…Never mind.” Yue Ge dropped it. Not fear—he’d guessed the “training” the moment she said *Operations Department*. Just… inexplicably embarrassing.

The Fate Organization’s Operations Department mirrored the Force—staffed solely by Chosen Ones. Their “driving lessons” were worlds apart from what Yue Ge imagined. *Simple*: Start the car, place obstacles mid-road. Don’t hit them? You pass. Crashing into walls? Minor injuries at worst.

*Hmm… Driving like that on public streets would definitely get you arrested, right?*