The new semester began, and on the first day of school, Jasper excitedly shared his holiday experiences with everyone. After a while apart, he hadn't changed at all; he was still as energetic as ever.

  “Hey, Kieran, I haven't seen you online lately?” He suddenly turned around and asked him.

  Kieran was taken aback. Since the day his father had the accident, he hadn't opened the game again. This was the saddest holiday for him; Doyle's death felt like a heavy cloud pressing down on his heart. He had cursed him to die every day while he was alive, but now that he was really gone, it was hard to accept.

  Every time he thinks of that lifeless face, he falls into an inexplicable panic.

  The murderer of his father has still not been caught. After the incident, the police visited his home several times, but in the end, nothing came of it. Social workers also came by because he was still a minor; they wanted to ensure he was placed well.

  The enemies of his father did not come looking for him as he had imagined. After a period of calm, the idea of moving was put on hold.

  “...I’m tired of it.” In the end, Kieran only replied with a somewhat perfunctory remark. He was not someone who shared his inner world with others because he was not good at it, and there was no need to.

  Only beautiful things are worth sharing; no one wants to hear a story filled with sorrow and misfortune.

  The two fell into a silence, with Jasper looking at him as if he were beyond saving.

  What have you been doing during the holidays? Jasper swallowed the question back down. For some reason, he felt that Kieran was not right, and he knew that even if he asked, Kieran would not answer honestly.

  The wall that stood between them sometimes made him feel powerless.

  At noon, Ivy invited Jasper and Kieran to have lunch together. The three sat in a noisy student cafeteria, and seemingly affected by Kieran's low mood, Jasper was unusually silent. Ivy quickly noticed that something was off.

  “Why aren’t you saying anything? Are you constipated?” Ivy joked half-heartedly to Jasper. It felt very strange that the usually talkative guy suddenly fell silent.

  “Ah, it's nothing, just that I haven't come back from vacation yet...” Jasper immediately switched back to his usual cheerful demeanor, “You just said you volunteered at the hospital, how was it? Was it fun?”

  “A bit tiring, but it felt very fulfilling,” Ivy's eyes sparkled with excitement as she mentioned a topic of interest. Once she started talking, she couldn't stop sharing.

  “...By the way,” seeming to realize she had said too much, Ivy paused for a moment. Seeing that neither Jasper nor Kieran showed any intention of stopping her, she continued, “My birthday is coming up soon, and I plan to have a birthday party at home. Will you come?”

  “What's the problem? I'll go!” Jasper's eyes sparkled with uncontainable anticipation, and he seemed to shake off the gloom brought by Kieran Vale just moments ago.

  “What about you, Kieran?” Ivy turned her gaze to him, “I will prepare a sumptuous meal, and we can all eat and chat together. The timing is very flexible; you can leave whenever you want, no pressure at all.” She was doing her best to encourage him.

  “Since you put it that way, fine…” Kieran agreed, finding it hard to refuse her enthusiasm.

  “Then it's settled! I will send out the invitation cards later, which will have the time and location on them.” A barely noticeable smile curved Ivy's lips.

  “It's not fair, Ivy invites you and you immediately agree…” Jasper recalled how Kieran had rejected his invitation and couldn't help but complain.

  “He already said he doesn't like dancing,” Ivy quickly defended Kieran, “It's a good thing he is willing to come, so don't hold it against him, okay?”

  “Just kidding, I wouldn't care about such trivial matters…” Jasper said with a grin, playfully bantering back and forth with Ivy, creating a somewhat flirtatious atmosphere.

  Kieran, on the other hand, was only thinking about how to request leave from the organization. In principle, one cannot take leave when there is a task at hand, but no one knows when a task will be assigned.

  When he asked Sabrina, she simply told him that as long as there were no urgent missions, he was free. The implication was that even if he attended the party, he would still have to respond to a mission once it came in.

  “Kieran, how have you been lately?” Sabrina rarely showed concern for him, and Kieran quickly realized it was because of his father.

  “I’m fine. Although it was a big shock at first, over time… I’ve gotten used to it.” What else could he do? Should he stay trapped in that painful whirlpool forever?

  “That’s good to hear. I’m also very sorry about your father. If you face any difficulties in the future, you can always ask the organization for help.” Sabrina gave a canned response, more like a robot devoid of emotions.

  *

  On Ivy's birthday, Jasper asked Kieran if he wanted to ride with him, since Ivy's house was quite a distance from the city center. It was then that Kieran realized he hadn’t considered this issue; the party was in the evening, and there were no buses from his house to Ivy's, so he would have to drive.

  Although he could take a taxi, it felt rude to refuse Jasper since he had offered.

  “I… don’t have a driver’s license, so I’ll have to rely on you.” Kieran tried to hide his embarrassment, and fortunately, Jasper seemed to not notice and readily agreed.

  “Then I’ll pick you up at your house at six in the evening. Please give me your address.”

  In the evening, Jasper showed up at Kieran's doorstep as promised. Kieran changed into a casual shirt, which was the only decent-looking piece of clothing he owned. The shirt had some wrinkles, but he didn’t have time to deal with it, so he just put it on. He looked at himself in the mirror and felt something was off, but lacking any sense of aesthetics, he couldn’t pinpoint the problem.

  Forget it, this will have to do. Kieran gave up on the headache-inducing issue, quickly changed his clothes, and rushed out to get into Jasper's car.

  “Good night,” Jasper greeted him, and Kieran noticed he was a bit different from usual, dressed in a black tailcoat and with his hair neatly styled. “Are you ready? Let’s get going.” Seeing Kieran settled in the passenger seat, he started the engine.

  At that moment, Jasper really did have a bit of a gentlemanly air about him, which made Kieran feel somewhat ashamed of himself.

  The car drove through the night streets, the January sea breeze carrying a biting chill, much like the awkward silence between the two.

  “You seem a bit nervous,” Jasper said, glancing at the silent Kieran beside him, trying to start a conversation.

  “You know, I rarely go out, especially to parties…” Kieran murmured, his tone laced with his usual sense of cynicism.

  This was his first time attending a party, and if it weren't for Jasper's seat being right next to him, and if he hadn't happened to run into Ivy that day, they probably would have never met, and there wouldn't be a party today.

  “Don’t worry, Ivy is very familiar with us,” Jasper said, his eyes focused on the road ahead. “Actually, it’s my first time going to her house too, but I’m looking forward to it…”

  The two chatted casually as they made their way to Ivy's house, and Kieran kept suppressing the urge to run away. If he weren't in Jasper's car, he might have really backed out.

  Jasper was a good person, simple and enthusiastic, and he wouldn’t look at Kieran differently because of his quirks.

  Only someone like him could tolerate being around Kieran.

  But people like him also make Kieran feel troubled.

  Most of the time, he doesn't need the "goodwill" of others. He is grateful to those who lend a helping hand, but that's all there is to it. These people make him feel that the world is not entirely dark, but that doesn't mean they can pull him out of the abyss of darkness.

  He can only interact with them cautiously, protecting their innocent and kind hearts from being hurt.

  As the twilight lights of the West District of Caelora gradually illuminate, the iron gate of the Ravenwood family mansion slowly opens. This Victorian-style three-story red brick mansion appears classical and majestic against the backdrop of the brass ornate fence and the neatly trimmed tall trees on either side, resembling a tranquil fortress of power.

  This is a private gathering, mostly attended by the children of the city's elite and Ivy's classmates. There are police officers on duty outside, and private security in black suits at the entrance, everything is orderly, exuding the restraint and distance of high society.

  Jasper, dressed in a fitted dark blue suit with neatly styled hair, stands at the entrance with Kieran, unable to hide a hint of nervousness and curiosity in their eyes. Although he has a good relationship with Ivy, he has never entered her private domain. Tonight is his first time stepping into the mayor's home.

  "This place is like a scene from a movie," Jasper whispered.

  The interior is extravagantly decorated. A custom Baccarat crystal chandelier hangs in the center of the hall, illuminating at exactly seven o'clock in the evening, casting thousands of rays of light among the crowd and silverware. The walls are adorned with portraits of the Castellan family through the generations—each oil painting has a brass plaque below indicating the name and term: "William Castellan (Speaker of the State Assembly, 1984-1992)," "Caroline Castellan (Deputy Secretary of Education, 2004-2009)."

  Mayor Edmund Castellan himself stands by the fireplace, dressed in a dark gray double-breasted suit, his silver hair neatly combed, his demeanor steady, exuding the composure and dignity cultivated over many years in politics.

  And Ivy's mother—Lisa Castellan—is the true soul of this party. She wears a dark green silk gown and an emerald necklace, speaking elegantly and precisely, exuding the confidence of a refined political wife in her every gesture. She and her husband stand by the fireplace, welcoming the young guests who have just entered—the classmates and friends of their only daughter, Ivy.

  The food at the banquet is provided by Caelora's historic French restaurant: the appetizer is a baked mushroom foie gras tart with herb sauce, paired with a light white wine; the main course is a surf and turf of pan-seared lobster tail and steak, served with white asparagus and truffle cream sauce. The dessert table is filled with mini meringue lemon tarts, rose macarons, and a birthday cake made of three layers of white chocolate, adorned with the initials A.C. in gold foil, representing Ivy's name.

  The party was held in the garden and the back hall, with a band playing jazz in one corner, and the delicate candlelit chandeliers and ornate table lamps intertwined to create warm golden shadows. Jasper and Kieran stood by the fruit bar, holding glasses of lemon sparkling wine, their eyes unconsciously searching for Ivy's figure.

  Ivy was wearing a silver-gray off-shoulder dress, standing in the center of the garden, chatting with someone. When she saw Jasper and Kieran, a rare smile appeared on her face, and she approached them.

  “Isn't this party a bit over the top?” she said softly, a hint of awkwardness flashing in her eyes.

  “It's just that we're too ordinary…” Jasper humbly replied, excitement gleaming in his eyes, “I didn't expect your house to be so beautiful.”

  “Don't say that,” Ivy's gaze swept over to Kieran standing nearby, “I just want everyone to have fun, relax, and treat this place like their own home, without feeling constrained…”

  Just as Kieran was thinking about topics to chat with Ivy, a tall figure appeared in front of him.

  “Hey, how did Mr. Loser end up here?”

  Kieran looked up and met that malicious gaze.

  “I invited him, Ronan. Today is my birthday, please don't cause trouble at this moment.” Ivy stepped forward, standing between Kieran and Ronan, a hint of panic in her eyes.

  Seeing Ronan, Kieran's heart sank. The little courage he had mustered disappeared without a trace, and at that moment, all he wanted was to leave this damned party.

  Why did Ivy invite Ronan? She knows what kind of person he is and is aware of the history between them. Kieran is full of questions, but it's Ivy's birthday party, and she has the freedom to invite whoever she wants.

  It's all his fault for not figuring out in advance who would come. If he had known Ronan would be there, he wouldn't have attended today's party even if it killed him.

  “I didn't do anything, I just think his outfit is really strange. What era is that from?” Ronan said with a mocking smile, “Don't you all notice he’s different from everyone else? He doesn’t belong here at all.”

  “Stop it, Ronan, we're all friends…” Ivy quickly pulled Ronan away, and as they left, she glanced at Kieran and said apologetically, “You all enjoy the party, I’ll excuse myself for now.”

  Once the two left, Jasper, who had been silent, spoke up: “Why did we even invite him?” He turned to Kieran, who looked gloomy and stood there without saying a word.

  “Sorry, I didn’t know he would come…”

  Kieran didn’t respond, appearing as if he didn’t want to engage. Jasper sighed; the cheerful atmosphere had been overshadowed by Ronan's presence, and even he felt a bit disheartened.

  The two wandered around the backyard, sampling the food. Jasper was busy greeting others, and even when they stood together, it felt like they were from different worlds.

  Kieran didn’t want to cling to Jasper like a sidekick, but where else could he go? He didn’t know anyone at the party, and he didn’t want to talk to anyone, especially since Ronan could come looking for trouble at any moment.

  He felt inexplicably annoyed at himself for being in such an awkward situation.

  But what scared him more was losing control; he had to suppress the urge to kill with all his might.

  “Shall we go to the second floor and take a look?” Jasper pointed to the balcony on the second floor of the villa, where some people were already standing. Due to Ivy's birthday, the mayor's family had specially opened the second-floor balcony and corridor for guests to rest.

  The two of them slowly climbed the stairs to the second floor, leaning against the railing side by side. From here, they could see the entire party scene. As night deepened, the backyard was still lively, with groups of guests sitting by the pool.

  Jasper and Kieran saw Ivy and Ronan among them, chatting, with Ronan's arm around Ivy's waist.

  Jasper's eyes widened in shock. “When did those two get together...?”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  So that's why... this was the reason Ivy invited him to the party. Kieran suddenly understood; no wonder her reaction was so strange when they mentioned Ronan, as if she was reluctant to criticize him or speak ill of him.

  “...Are you okay?” Kieran looked at Jasper with sympathy, as if he could feel his disappointment.

  “I'm fine...” Jasper pretended to be calm, but there was undeniable disappointment in his eyes. “Actually, Ivy and I... are just ordinary friends, not even ambiguous.”

  Kieran silently watched him. Although he wanted to say something to comfort him, he didn't know what to say. He wasn't good at this kind of thing and was quite slow when it came to feelings between men and women.

  Seeing Ivy being embraced by Ronan, he felt nothing but surprise.

  “She's a good girl, kind and thoughtful...” Jasper murmured, “But I really don't understand why she would choose Ronan; that's even more shocking than choosing you.”

  “What does it have to do with me…?” Kieran thought, feeling that he had probably taken quite a hit and was somewhat incoherent. “How could she possibly choose me?”

  “Can’t you really see it? She’s interested in you,” Jasper insisted, but saying this now was pointless; they were like two peas in a pod.

  “So what if she’s interested? That’s just because she hasn’t seen through me yet,” Kieran replied lazily, his gaze drifting off to an indeterminate distance. He was quite curious about how Ivy would react if she saw his true self.

  “Are you saying there’s a side of you that we haven’t seen?” Jasper looked at Kieran thoughtfully, recalling the god-like “Nightwalker” from that game. If he hadn’t kept asking, he wouldn’t have known that Kieran was that mysterious gaming celebrity.

  What else do they not know about this guy?

  “Don’t think too much. Besides gaming, I’m just a loser; you wouldn’t want to know,” Kieran said self-deprecatingly, thinking about how to change the subject. “Or do you want to see for yourself how miserable my life is?”

  Jasper fell silent. He had always known that Kieran’s background was completely different from his own. To avoid hurting his pride, he always tried to ignore the air of poverty and the awkward behavior that Kieran exuded. But when asked why he still hung out with Kieran, he couldn’t quite explain it; perhaps it was because Kieran had a certain mysterious aura.

  Or maybe it was simply because he was the “Nightwalker,” which in itself was an attractive contrast.

  “I really want to know, if—I'm saying if—Ivy liked you, would you be with her?” Jasper asked.

  Kieran looked at him with an impatient expression, unsure where Jasper got such nonsensical ideas. “Your hypothesis is basically invalid,” but he hadn’t really thought about this question before. “I guess probably not, because I…” Kieran hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to say it out loud; he didn’t have romantic feelings for Ivy.

  “I’m a… terrible person, I can’t even take care of myself.” In the end, that was his answer.

  “I don’t think Ivy will care about this…,” Jasper murmured, but he didn’t continue the topic. “If you want to go home, we can leave anytime.”

  This statement was exactly what he wanted to hear; he couldn’t wait to leave this awkward party.

  Kieran didn’t answer immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the garden below, where lights and laughter intertwined—Ivy was turned slightly to the side, listening to Ronan, her lips curled into a polite yet distant smile, as if she were fulfilling a social obligation dictated by her status; meanwhile, Ronan’s hand rested too casually, as if he had long been accustomed to treating others' boundaries as mere decorations.

  The scene made Kieran’s stomach tighten, not out of jealousy or anger, but from a familiar, loathsome premonition: trouble always finds its way to him.

  “Let’s go.” He finally said in a low voice.

  Jasper paused for a moment, as if he couldn’t believe he had agreed so readily, then nodded, “Okay, I’ll go say something to Ivy, at least to greet her.”

  “No need.” Kieran grabbed his sleeve, not with much force, but firmly enough, “If you go down now, it will only make things more awkward for her. She has to manage the situation today, not her friends.”

  Jasper frowned, “At least—”

  “At least what?” Kieran replied lightly, “At least she’ll say ‘let’s talk next time,’ and then you’ll get back to the car pretending nothing happened? Save your energy.”

  Jasper was left speechless by his words, but he didn’t argue. The two walked down the corridor toward the staircase, with oil paintings and antique light fixtures hanging on either side. The thick carpet swallowed all sound of their footsteps, making Kieran feel even more uncomfortable—too quiet, too much like some kind of ritual, reminding him: this was not a place he was meant to enter.

  They had just arrived at the entrance of the mansion when a figure emerged from the shadows, blocking their way.

  Ronan.

  He held a glass of wine in his hand, and the smile on his face was as thin as a knife's edge against the skin. "Are you leaving so soon? The party has just started."

  Jasper instinctively stepped forward, half-blocking Kieran behind him, and said with forced calmness, "We have something to take care of, we're leaving."

  "Who are you?" Ronan tilted his head to look at him, pretending to think, "Oh, I remember now, that loser. Leaving so early? Have you realized you don't belong here?"

  Jasper's expression changed, still keeping his voice low: "Ronan, today is Ivy's birthday—"

  "So you should be thanking me more." Ronan said slowly, his gaze passing over Jasper and landing on Kieran, "If it weren't for me gracing you with my presence, someone like you wouldn't have the chance to stand in a place like this. Look at you, wearing that shirt, what are you trying to prove? That you can blend in too?"

  Kieran said nothing. He watched Ronan's Adam's apple move up and down, saw the slight sweat seeping from the glass in his palm, and heard the rhythm of his heartbeat in his chest quicken—not from excitement, but from a kind of restless urge to escalate the situation. This kind of person isn't afraid of losing control; they even find amusement in it.

  "Step aside." Kieran finally spoke, his voice very calm, devoid of any emotion.

  Ronan laughed as if he had heard a joke: "Who do you think you're ordering around?"

  He stepped forward, his shoulder almost colliding with Jasper's, the wine glass in his hand swaying, spilling a few drops onto the carpet. He deliberately lowered his head, leaning closer to Kieran, and said in a volume only they could hear: "I heard your dad died. What a pity. No one taught you what rules are, right?"

  In that moment, Kieran's world felt like it was being stretched into a fine line.

  His ears buzzed, and all the sounds—the music from downstairs, laughter from down the hall, Jasper's hurried breathing—felt like they were coming through thick glass. He could only see Ronan's lips moving, forming those words.

  He saw a pulse of red light flickering in Ronan's chest, rhythmic and fragile. With just one thought, it could stop. Clean, swift, leaving no obvious external injuries—medically explainable as sudden arrhythmia, especially in a party setting where alcohol, emotions, and stimuli all made sense.

  He was even quickly assessing in his mind: distance, angle, witnesses present, trace residue time, escape routes.

  —No.

  This wasn't a mission. There were too many "possibilities" here. And most importantly: Jasper was right beside him.

  Kieran's fingertips felt slightly cold as he forcibly pushed that impulse deep back into his chest, like locking a struggling beast in a cage. He raised his eyes to Ronan, showing an expression that could almost be described as docile.

  “You’re right,” Kieran said.

  Jasper turned to look at him sharply, as if he couldn't believe Kieran would back down.

  Ronan was momentarily stunned, then laughed even louder, a sense of victory written all over his face: “You finally understand.”

  “What I don't understand,” Kieran continued, his tone still steady, “is why you care so much about what I do? Losing to me in the game, do you want to make up for it in reality? Are you holding Ivy now to prove that you won, or are you afraid that you actually can't win at all?”

  The words pierced Ronan's pride like a needle. For a moment, the smile on Ronan's face froze, and his eyes turned cold and fierce. He raised his hand, nearly splashing the wine onto Kieran.

  Jasper reached out to block it, and the wine splattered onto his sleeve, instantly staining the deep blue fabric with a dark mark.

  “You motherf—” Ronan gritted his teeth.

  Footsteps echoed from the other end of the corridor, and several guests turned to look. Ronan paused, clearly not wanting to make a scene on the second floor. He withdrew his hand, his mouth twitching into a smile: “Alright. You’re quite bold.”

  He stepped closer, lowering his voice: “I’ll remember you. Do you think you can walk out of here today?”

  Kieran did not back down. He simply looked at Ronan, calm as if observing a specimen on an autopsy table. “I walk out every day.”

  This time, Ronan's smile vanished. He stared at Kieran for a few seconds, as if weighing something, then finally stepped aside to let him pass, his tone laced with reluctant disdain: “Get lost. Don’t pollute the air here.”

  The two hurried down the stairs, and as they passed through the hall, Kieran saw Ivy surrounded by a few classmates on the other side of the garden, cutting cake, smiling gracefully yet tired. She seemed to glance inside the house, their eyes meeting briefly—at that moment, it looked like she wanted to come over, but was immediately pulled back to talk to someone.

  Kieran averted his gaze.

  As they stepped out of the mansion, the cold wind cut across their cheeks like a knife. Jasper gripped the car keys tightly, exhaling heavily only after they were seated inside the car.

  “He just mentioned your father…” Jasper's voice was a bit hoarse, “Are you really okay?”

  Kieran fastened his seatbelt, staring at the faint mist on the windshield, and after a long time said, “I’m fine.”

  What he said was the truth.

  The truly terrifying thing was not Ronan's low-level malice, but the fact that just a moment ago, he had so clearly and naturally thought about “how to kill” — it was like returning to a work state, as if once that line was connected, there was no longer a need for emotional motivation.

  Jasper started the engine, and the car slowly left the Castellan family's courtyard. The brightly lit mansion in the rearview mirror grew farther away, like a world unrelated to them.

  *

  On the way back, there was silence in the car. The shadows of the streetlights quickly swept past the windows, and Kieran leaned back in his seat, his mind blank. He didn’t know why, but a vague sense of irritation surged in his heart.

  It wasn’t because Ivy chose Ronan — he really felt nothing about that. But it was that feeling of being excluded, as if it reaffirmed the fact that he was always an outsider.

  “You know,” Jasper suddenly spoke, breaking the silence, “sometimes I think, are we living in parallel worlds? You, me, Ivy… we seem to be in the same space, but in reality, there’s an invisible wall between us.”

  Kieran turned his head to look at him, somewhat surprised that he would say something like that.

  “I know I’m very lucky,” Jasper continued, his gaze focused on the road ahead, “I have a family that loves me, and I don’t have to worry about life. But sometimes I also wonder, does this make me shallow? All I care about are trivial things — games, parties, who I like…”

  “That's not superficial,” Kieran said, “that's normal.”

  Jasper was taken aback for a moment, then smiled, "Is this your way of comforting me?"

  "I'm just stating the facts."

  The two fell into silence again, but this time the silence was no longer awkward; instead, it carried a certain understanding.

  As the car drove into the old neighborhood where Kieran lived, Jasper couldn't help but take in the surroundings. The dim streetlights, the weathered walls, the garbage piled up at the alleyway—this formed a stark contrast to the world they had just left.

  "Just park up ahead," Kieran instructed.

  After the car stopped, Kieran was about to get out when Jasper suddenly called out to him, "Kieran."

  "What is it?"

  "About that invitation I mentioned... it's not just for your birthday. If you change your mind, you can come over to my place anytime. It doesn't have to be for gaming; just... chatting would be nice too."

  Kieran looked at the sincerity in his eyes, and a wave of indescribable emotions surged within him. "…Thanks."

  After he got out of the car, he watched as Jasper's vehicle drove away, the taillights gradually fading into the night.

  Returning home, the empty house was still filled with a musty smell and a sense of loneliness. Kieran took off his wrinkled shirt and slumped onto the sofa.

  The death of his father, Ivy's party, Ronan's mockery... these things spun around in his mind like fragments. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to calm himself down.

  ‘Kieran. Vale.’

  Sabrina's voice suddenly echoed in his mind, making him alert instantly.

  ‘Is there a new mission?’ he responded in his mind.

  ‘No, just a routine check. Your emotional fluctuations are quite significant tonight; what happened?’

  Kieran hesitated. Although the organization's monitoring system couldn't read his thoughts, his emotional ups and downs were unmistakable.

  ‘I attended a party; I wasn't quite comfortable in that kind of setting.’

  ‘I saw that,’ Sabrina's tone was as flat as ever, ‘the Castellan family’s party. Were you getting close to the mayor's daughter?’

  Kieran frowned, ‘It's just a classmate relationship; nothing special.’

  “Good. Remember, don't get too deeply connected with anyone. You know the rules.”

  “I know.”

  After the communication was cut off, Kieran opened his eyes and stared at the cracks in the ceiling.

  Do not form deep connections with anyone—this is one of the organization's iron rules. Because people like him live a life full of uncertainty. Here today, on a mission tomorrow, and possibly never to return.

  Moreover, anyone close to him could become a weakness, exploited by the enemy.

  He thought of Ivy, Jasper... and those classmates who laughed and chatted at the party. They lived in a bright world, while he could only stand in the shadows and watch.

  Perhaps Ronan was right—he simply did not belong there.

  Kieran got up and walked into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, which only contained a few cans of beer and some expired food. He took out a can of beer, twisted off the cap, and tilted his head back to gulp down the cold liquid.

  The bitter taste spread in his mouth, just like his mood at that moment.

  He didn't know how much longer he could live like this. Maybe one day, he would quietly disappear from this world like those targets, and no one would remember that he ever existed.

  This thought did not frighten him; instead, it brought a strange sense of relief.

  The phone suddenly vibrated, interrupting his thoughts. He picked up the phone and saw a message from Jasper:

  “Are you home? Thank you for keeping me company tonight. Although the ending wasn't very good, at least we experienced it together. Good night.”

  Kieran stared at the screen for a while and finally replied with just two words: “Good night.”

  He put down the phone and fell back into silence. The sound of the sea breeze howled outside, mixed with the distant sound of waves. The city was still bustling and lively, but all that noise had nothing to do with him.

  He was just a ghost wandering in the darkness, occasionally appearing at the edge of the light world, then retreating back into the shadows.

  This was his fate.

  *

  The next morning, Kieran was awakened by a series of urgent knocks on the door. He sat up from the sofa, rubbed his sleepy eyes, and looked at the time—it was seven in the morning.

  Who would knock on the door at this time?

  He cautiously walked to the door and looked through the peephole. Outside stood a middle-aged man in a black suit, holding a briefcase.

  Kieran did not open the door, but asked through it, “Who are you?”

  “Mr. Kieran Vale? I am a lawyer from Harris Law Firm, appointed to handle the estate matters of your father, Mr. Doyle Hargrove.”

  Inheritance?

  Kieran was taken aback; he had never known his father had any inheritance to speak of. That man had been in debt up to his ears during his lifetime, and it was a blessing if he left behind anything but a mess after his death.

  He opened the door and let the lawyer in.

  The lawyer glanced around the room, a flicker of barely concealed distaste crossing his face, but he quickly regained his professional demeanor.

  "Please have a seat." Kieran gestured to the sofa and sat down in the chair opposite.

  The lawyer opened his briefcase and took out a stack of documents. "According to your father's will, he had a life insurance policy, and you are the beneficiary. After deducting the relevant expenses, there is approximately $150,000."

  Kieran's eyes widened, almost unable to believe the number he heard.

  "One hundred fifty thousand...?"

  "Yes. Additionally, the title of this house is also registered in your name. Although the house is somewhat old, the location is quite good, and it is valued at around $200,000," the lawyer continued. "Of course, your father also left behind some debts, approximately $50,000. However, according to the law, you can choose to inherit the estate and pay off the debts, or you can renounce the inheritance."

  Kieran's mind was in a whirl. He had never thought his father would leave him anything. That man, who had spent his days drinking and had always beaten and scolded him, had actually put his name on a life insurance policy.

  “I need to... think about it.” He murmured.

  “Of course. Here are the relevant documents for you to read carefully. If you have any questions, feel free to contact me.” The lawyer handed over a business card and then stood up to leave.

  After seeing off the lawyer, Kieran sat on the sofa, holding the stack of documents, motionless for a long time.

  His father's face reappeared in his mind— that angry face, the drunken face, and finally the lifeless face lying in the morgue.

  He remembered the scene from his childhood when his father taught him how to fish. At that time, Doyle was still a strong dockworker, always wearing a cheerful smile.

  “Remember, Kieran,” his father had said back then, “no matter what happens, you must live well.”

  Kieran's eyes suddenly became moist.

  He finally understood that his father may have never truly given up on him. Even on the worst days, that man still protected him in his own way.

  Life insurance, the title of the house—these were the last gifts his father left for him.

  “Thank you... Dad.” He whispered, his voice echoing in the empty room.

  Finally, tears streamed down his face. This was the first time he truly cried since his father's death.

  All the emotions that had been bottled up inside for so long—anger, resentment, disappointment, sadness—burst forth at that moment.

  He didn't know how long he had cried, until he could no longer shed any tears.

  After wiping the tears from his face, he picked up the documents left by the lawyer and read every word carefully.

  One hundred fifty thousand dollars, with a hundred thousand left after deducting debts. Although this amount wasn't much, it was enough to support his life for a while.

  But could he really let go of the past?

  This question lingered in his mind, but he couldn't find an answer.

  The phone vibrated again, this time it was a message notification from the gaming guild. He opened his phone and saw the guild channel bustling with activity:

  ‘The Nightwalker is finally online!’

  ‘Long time no see! We all thought you had quit!’

  ‘Come on, come on, the new dungeon is super hard, we need you!’

  Kieran looked at the messages, a smile unconsciously spreading across his lips.

  Perhaps this virtual world is where he truly belongs. There, he doesn't need to disguise himself, doesn't need to hide, and can fully showcase his power.

  He opened the game and logged into his character. The familiar screen appeared on the monitor, and "Nightwalker" was still standing in the same spot as when he logged out, shining with the glow of top-tier equipment.

  ‘Welcome back, Nightwalker.’ A system message popped up.

  “I’m back,” he whispered.

  In this world, he was not the pitiful worm who was bullied, not the rat in the gutter, but someone revered by all— a god.