Staring down at the single, casual 'Hi' sitting in the blank chat box, Qiao Lu couldn't help but remember reading through Zhao Yuan's confidential task file.
That document wasn't just a standard dossier—it was a high-level file stamped with red warning flags from top to bottom. The details inside had sent a genuine wave of alarm through the higher council: she was officially charged with breaching access and control rules by moving through multiple different worlds and directly interfering with critical, world-shaping events.
To the council, that file painted her as a terrifying anomaly. Breachers—the ultra-rare individuals capable of moving between worlds—were strictly limited, usually bound to a single planar path. None possessed the ability to slip into as many distinct realities as her record indicated. Even stranger was her uncanny knack for targeting pivotal, high-stakes moments that could completely unravel those worlds.
That specific detail was what truly terrified the council. In their eyes, Breachers could never be Writers; even Qiao Lu, who possessed the rare ability to glimpse into hidden world secrets, couldn't write or weave reality himself. Because of this absolute rule, the council was split into paranoid factions over her file. Half of them believed her world-altering interferences were bizarre, high-level accidents, while the other half was convinced she was secretly colluding with a dangerous, rogue Writer lurking in the shadows.
As the only other person in existence who could move between worlds and glimpse those underlying threads, Qiao Lu understood exactly why the council had placed her under his direct care. They wanted him to find that rogue Writer—or prove she was one heretical mistake.
Yet, after watching her every move, her actual behavior completely contradicted that alarming file. She hadn't displayed even a flicker of world-bending power or rogue contact, moving through her assignments with an unbothered, steady calmness.
He stared at the blinking chat screen, a deep frown forming on his face as he wondered how to bridge the massive gap between the council's paranoid dossier and the reality he was observing.
Moving to his desk, he powered on his terminal to draft his official progress report. He sat in silence for a long time, the blue light reflecting in his dark eyes as he debated what to put down.
Finally, his fingers began to move across the keyboard.
The report he produced was a stark contrast to the thick, alarmist file the council had handed him. Where her original record was filled with warnings of multi-world interference, rogue Writer collusion, and high-threat potential, Qiao Lu's report was deliberately sanitized, brief, and cold. He wrote exclusively about her flawless obedience to the System, her high efficiency in expanding shelter networks, and her rapid completion of every assigned directive.
He intentionally left out any notes on her personal character, her unbothered demeanor, or the mysterious 'Hi' currently sitting in his private team chat.
Satisfied that his report gave the council the safe, obedient picture they wanted to see while hiding the true enigma of her nature, Qiao Lu submitted the document, closed the terminal, and let the quiet dark of his office settle over him.
He leaned back against his leather desk chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose to soothe the dull ache behind his eyes.
His private residence in the Central District was a stark reflection of his status: a sprawling, ultra-modern penthouse suspended high above the glass-and-steel monoliths of the Reformation Committee's inner sector. Through the floor-to-ceiling panoramic windows, the metropolitan lights stretched out like an endless sea of cold blue and white. Inside, the space was minimal and sterile—polished dark marble floors, soft ambient floor lighting, and an eerie, unbroken quiet that he had long grown accustomed to. It was luxurious, yet completely void of warmth. A golden cage for the System's Number One asset.
Exhausted by the council's paranoia and the thick file of theories surrounding Zhao Yuan, Qiao Lu finally broke the quiet.
"System," he called out softly, his voice echoing in the spacious room.
Instantly, the dim room illuminated as a massive, brilliant holographic display materialized in mid-air right above his desk. Blue light washed over his sharp features, casting long shadows across the polished floor as intricate streams of real-time data began to cascade across the screen.
"How is the main shelter progressing?" Qiao Lu asked, resting his chin in his hand as he looked up at the floating interface, waiting to see her live development metrics.
The System's automated, synthesized voice hummed softly into the room before reporting:
[Target Subject: Custodian Zhao Yuan]
[Location: Sector 9 — Sub-District 4 Main Shelter]
[Current Compound Status: Operational / Expansion Phase 2 Complete]
Population Density: 1,240 registered residents (0 disputes recorded in past 24 hours).
Resource Efficiency: Hydroponics and water purification grids operating at 112% baseline capacity.
Terminal Infrastructure: Secondary branch gateway successfully initialized. Sector clearance under deployed assistants maintaining a 0% casualty rate.
Subject Biometrics: Resting. Brainwave patterns indicate deep sleep.
Qiao Lu stared at the pristine blue readouts, a quiet, almost imperceptible smirk touching the corner of his lips.
Sector 9 was notorious for breaking Custodians within their first forty-eight hours. Most panicked, hoarded resources, or cracked under the sheer pressure of managing feral survivors. Yet here she was: running a warlord sector with absolute, terrifying efficiency, keeping a thousand people fed and peaceful, and then going to bed as smoothly as if she were on vacation.
"Flawless as usual," Qiao Lu muttered to himself, watching her steady biometric pulse tap on the corner of the display before he waved his hand to dim the screen.