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"I don't really mind," Sylvester said, flipping both hands over as he leaned halfway back in his chair. He jerked his chin toward the shelf. "There are three trash cans left. Whether you pull something good depends entirely on your own luck."
"Hmph-hmph, then I'll definitely return in triumph!"
Qingque's cheeks lifted adorably, her small mouth curling into a thin arc.
Proudly, she declared, "Last night I lost nine games in a row at cards! A new personal worst! All my bad luck is completely spent!"
"Uh… well, good luck then."
Being that happy about a nine-loss streak—her mentality was truly rare. Sylvester didn't have the heart to puncture her confidence.
He only hoped that if the trash can surprised her with a ten-loss streak, she'd still stay calm.
After all, nine losses is nothing…
The thought hit him. Suddenly Sylvester sat up straight, eyes narrow, sharply scanning her from head to toe.
"Wait. Aren't you supposed to be working yourself to the bone these days? Where did you find time to lose nine games in a row?"
"Ah—th-that…"
Oh no. She slipped.
Caught, Qingque trembled internally, her earlier glorious momentum evaporating instantly.
She stood silent for a long moment. Her eyes darted away as she fiddled with her fingers and muttered weakly, "Actually… you know… for overall work efficiency, it's important to balance labor with rest… right?"
Then she suddenly crouched down, tilting her face upward in a perfect begging pose—hands clasped over her head, eyes big and watery.
"Please! Don't tell Lady Fu Xuan—I'll do anything!"
Sylvester's nerves wavered under the sudden blast of adorable pleading.
Seeing this, he rested his chin on his hand and said with great amusement, "You already said those exact words earlier. If you owe me two favors in one day, what do you even have left to pay with?"
"Relax, I don't have a habit of reporting people."
"Eh-heh, I knew you were the best."
Qingque hopped back to her feet, stuck her tongue out, and grinned. "As for repaying you, well… that depends on what I have."
"I don't own much—just these few belongings, plus a few dozen pounds of myself. Take whatever you want!"
"You wish!" Sylvester laughed. "If I picked you, you'd lie flat for real. I'd be selling trash cans every day while you lazed around upstairs, eating, drinking, and doing nothing. That would be way too comfortable for you."
Qingque sighed dramatically. "What a shame… You saw through it. Working here would be way better than working at the Divination Commission."
Then, puzzled, she asked, "And… did I really say those words before?"
She scratched her head, confused. "It feels like this is the first time in my life I've ever said that."
Uh-oh. Offering "I'll do anything" was too broad of a promise—he forgot she'd lost the past hour of memory.
But it was fine; he could still bluff!
Sylvester's face stayed calm. He frowned deeply, staring at her like a doctor diagnosing a terminal patient.
He sighed. "Yeah… you really are under too much pressure. Before you passed out, you rambled about wanting a Curio that could help you escape work, and you begged me the same way you just did. But now you can't remember after a short nap."
He shook his head gravely. "Go pick a trash can. At this rate of overwork, your body really might break down."
"No way…"
Qingque's face drained of color.
She tried to recall her morning, only to discover nothing came up—just fuzzy fragments of last night's dreams.
Was she really so exhausted that her mind malfunctioned and erased part of her memory?
It seemed… very possible.
Passing out of nowhere—wasn't that the sign of reaching a physical limit? What if she exhausted herself into idiocy?
The thought terrified her.
Her body was her capital for slacking! Her brain, even more so! The body could recover quickly—but once the brain was damaged, that was irreversible!
Still frightened, she remained blissfully unaware that her health was perfect—she had merely been used to solve someone else's crisis.
"No choice! I have to get a good Curio to help me with work!"
Reinvigorated, Qingque turned toward the three remaining trash cans with blazing determination, as if confronting mortal enemies.
Sylvester smirked.
He could practically feel the trash cans sweating bullets.
Others came with great grudges or great ambitions.
Even March 7th, when she wanted to move up in the world, had a heroic dream.
But Qingque? The most powerful aura she'd ever shown in her life… was for the sake of slacking off?
Fu Xuan had a long road ahead indeed.
Qingque stared at each trash can with the same nervous intensity as a final tile draw before a winning hand.
She prayed silently.
O Reignbow Arbiter, I'm not asking for some ultra-powerful Curio—no need for purple, no need for gold. Just give me a dependable office-working AI-slave!
"I'm opening it!"
She shouted, yanking open the first lid.
Blue light flashed, revealing a black eye mask.
"Huh? Another blue Curio?"
She turned it over repeatedly. It was just an eye mask. The eyes printed on the front were oddly… wise?
Both eyes were glancing upward, left and right, like they had their own thoughts.
A blue Curio… did wearing it make you lose IQ?
Well, as a Records Officer, she at least understood that any blue Curio must have a special effect.
Sylvester confirmed, "Of course! That's the [Dreamweaver Sleep Mask]. Before sleeping, stare at the eyes on it and say how long you want to sleep and what you want to dream about. Wear it, lie down, boom—you sleep instantly and dream exactly what you requested."
"This is the holy grail for countless exhausted students and office workers!"
He wasn't exaggerating. Though it had no combat power, if mass-produced, people would trample his door down trying to buy it.
Not everyone needed a Curio, but everyone wanted stable sleep.
Qingque nodded, though her face fell slightly.
If she'd received this earlier, she would have celebrated.
But now it couldn't solve her immediate crisis.
If she slept too well, her work would fall even further behind.
She pocketed the mask anyway. It was good. She would use it once her slacking agenda succeeded.
"Hoo~ Good omen, good omen."
She took a deep breath and encouraged herself. "It means the trash can is responding to my slacking wish—just slightly off target. If I push a bit harder—"
Sylvester mentally finished the sentence:
You'll get a top-tier Curio, become even more valued by Fu Xuan, secure your Acting Deputy Diviner position, and drown in endless paperwork every day.