If reality were a game, the final boss would be hiding right here in your orphanage. Our duty? Find her—and eliminate her. Even if she looks like nothing more than a nine-year-old girl.
“Do you understand, Director Jiang?”
The man pressed both palms flat on the desk, leaning forward slightly as he looked down into Jiang Qianyu’s eyes.
“To us, this is a trolley problem: ignore public safety, or burn the orphanage to the ground.”
“Don’t doubt it—we have both the authority and power to choose. And from any outsider’s view? It’s not even a choice.”
“Because… every single soul inside your orphanage…”
“…is a monster.”
“Let me clarify. In Nightwatchers’ eyes, a person is body, soul, and spirit. If *any* of these three becomes corrupted—not medically, mind you—they turn into a bloodthirsty monster.”
“Eliminating monsters? Usually requires physical means.”
“But now, congratulations, Director Jiang—you have a third option.”
“Kill Bai Dongqing. Everything resets. Your orphanage returns exactly as before. Without the Witch’s psychic influence, the corruption in the other children halts.”
“You’ll then receive government subsidies and charitable donations—no less than eight million.”
Silence swallowed the crowded office the moment the black-clad man finished. Every gaze locked onto Jiang Qianyu behind the desk.
They never imagined the Witch they’d hunted for thirty years was hiding in this tiny orphanage.
No—more precisely: after her “death” in a past life, she “reincarnated” into childhood and was adopted by this thirty-year-old director.
In this life, she held no memories. She was truly just a little girl.
Except for that glitch-ridden notebook beside her—the one that makes *anything* written in it real, like an infinite wishing machine.
What stunned them more: the notebook, lethal to anyone who touches it, was now in the hands of this unassuming orphanage director.
No wonder it had stayed quiet all these years.
And Bai Dongqing—the little Witch—had lived carefree under Director Jiang Qianyu’s care, even while every other child and adult in the orphanage despised her, wished her dead.
Jiang Qianyu held his pen. Silent.
They wanted him to kill Bai Dongqing—not physically, but by writing one sentence in the notebook: *Let Bai Dongqing die, never to return.*
Why not just trick him into writing it? Simple. Direct. No promises needed.
Calmly closing the notebook, Jiang Qianyu ignored the stares. He stood, picked it up, and walked toward the door.
He met the eyes of the two men blocking the exit. After a glance exchanged with the man behind him, they stepped aside.
Stepping into the hallway, Jiang Qianyu didn’t look back. One hand in his pocket, he walked downstairs toward a familiar room—just like every other visit.
Only the atmosphere felt unnaturally still.
All the children were gone. He didn’t know where.
Reaching the first-floor room, he pulled out the key, knocked lightly.
“Dong Qing, it’s me.”
“Director!” A slightly hoarse, sweet voice answered—tear-streaked, yet bright with relief.
He opened the door. Two men in black coats immediately followed him inside. Supervisors.
Jiang Qianyu was ordinary. He didn’t know their power or rank—but he felt none were people he could afford to cross.
The moment the door locked behind him, the small, fragile girl threw herself into his arms.
Red-rimmed eyes. Fresh tear tracks. Heartbreaking.
Bai Dongqing tugged his sleeve. “Director… I’m so scared.”
He didn’t comfort her. Just patted her head gently and eased her back.
The room was small. Jiang Qianyu turned his back to the two supervisors—likely team leads—cradling the black notebook in one hand, the other slipping into his coat pocket.
He knew: success or failure, he was already dead.
For a split second, he wondered—was *he* mad, or had the world been sick all along?
Just one night.
Like a gambler at a rigged table, he’d bet everything.
Less than a second of hesitation. He pulled the blood-smeared note from his pocket—*Make them disappear*—flattened it onto the notebook, pressed hard.
Whirr!
A silent shockwave rippled through the room.
His heart hammered. Cold sweat soaked his shirt.
*Did it work?*
He didn’t know.
Bai Dongqing’s face went deathly pale. She stumbled back, as if seeing pure horror.
*Clang!*
A short knife—less than three centimeters from his spine—clattered to the floor. Two corpses slumped sideways, faces frozen in terror.
He’d guessed right: to activate the notebook, the wish must be *sincere* in your heart while writing.
His bold deduction, based on their strange behavior.
Downstairs, he’d pricked his finger with a pin, written the wish in blood.
Thanks to that inner “fine-tuning,” the notebook erased them instantly.
Not quite what he’d hoped—he’d wanted *everyone* gone, inside and out.
But his body couldn’t bear the cost.
On his left arm, skin cracked like shattered porcelain, peeling away to reveal raw, crimson muscle. As if his arm’s soul had been ripped out.
The agony—sharp, slicing—was his first true taste of *pain like knives*.
His mind reeled.
*They were telling the truth.*
If the notebook could kill those two… could it erase Bai Dongqing too?
The group outside belonged to a powerful organization, tied to authorities.
Their words—*all the children are monsters, Dong Qing is the Witch*—now undeniable.
If he didn’t kill Dong Qing, they’d take her and the notebook. And likely arrange an “accidental fire.” No survivors.
Burning it all was the cleanest solution. Orphaned children? Ignored. Unchecked? Public scandal. Each one a ticking bomb.
But killing Dong Qing? Impossible.
For four years, he’d raised her as his own daughter.
To kill his daughter with his own hands? He couldn’t.
“Dong Qing…” Jiang Qianyu crouched, voice trembling. Pale lips quivered. Blood dripped from his arm onto the floor.
The girl stood by the bed, lifting her face to his eyes. In the blood-stained silence, she seemed to understand.
No blame for him. No hatred for them.
She wiped her tears fiercely, rushed forward, and hugged him tight—face pressed to his chest, sobbing quietly, soaking his shirt.
“Daddy…”
“No time left, my girl. Go. Forget this place. Forget me.”
Jiang Qianyu raised his bloodied left hand, cradling the notebook. With slow, deliberate strokes, he wrote:
*In the end, the Witch Bai Dongqing forgets all memories of this life. She is no longer a Witch. She lives without fear, brings no danger to others. In her new life, she has a warm home and parents who love her more than anything in the world.*
As the final character formed, he watched her body grow translucent. He wanted to wish her joy—but his life force was draining fast.
Would his body hold?
Didn’t matter. He’d already bet everything.
He looked up. Flames roared beyond the window.
Just as he’d known.
The moment they found this place, fire was always the only option.
After all…
Every soul in this orphanage was a “monster.”
Jiang Qianyu sighed.
Without this orphanage… he had no reason to live.
Might as well do *this* with his last breath.
His body felt weightless. Consciousness peeled away. Darkness crept in.
He felt no fear.
Eyes closed. He accepted it.
·
·
Time drifted.
In the void, a faint crimson light flickered.
Jiang Qianyu had no strength to think. Like a drowning man grasping hope, he struggled instinctively.
The darkness clung like swamp mud, dragging his soul down.
His strength was nothing against it.
Just as consciousness began to fade—
A familiar, sweet voice pulled him back.
“Mommy… are you awake?”
