47: Task

Lin Luo eventually accepted the "contractor" agreement—less because he was convinced by Mr. Long and more for the safety of those around him. He swiped his phone, and a sleek yet extraordinary application popped up on the screen. In the personal interface, besides basic information, the most conspicuous thing was the two bold words in the status bar: Outsourced.

Mr. Long explained with a smile from the side, "You've been assigned to the Special Action Group Against Demons. You should be familiar with them."

"Special Action Group Against Demons?" Lin Luo raised an eyebrow.

"It's a resource you 'discovered' yourself," Mr. Long said teasingly.

"—The Demon Slayer Corps?!" Lin Luo understood immediately.

"Recruiting powerful individuals counts as a merit; I've recorded this one for you," Mr. Long nodded.

Lin Luo, however, lacked interest. Merit points held no attraction for him. Even if they could be exchanged for things like Cultivation Techniques, Spirit Stones, or secret medicines, he had little enthusiasm—he didn't lack those things to begin with. He casually clicked on the exchange list and glanced through it, which only confirmed his thoughts: these resources, regarded as treasures by the Department Headquarters, were merely ordinary items in his eyes.

He conveniently clicked into the friends interface, where two names lay quietly in the recommendation list. One was Yukino Mifuyu, whose avatar was a cute chibi Snow Girl, forming an interesting contrast with her cool temperament. The other didn't even have an avatar; the username simply read "Tohru," and the status was still "Pending Review." Lin Luo couldn't help but raise an eyebrow—the Department Headquarters' efficiency was surprisingly high; the person themselves was still in the dark, yet the account was already prepared.

Meanwhile, beneath the restaurant's corridor...

The midday sun filtered through the camphor trees, casting fragmented spots of light. Fat Wave had long since been released from the "punishment" tree and was now comfortably curled up on Kato Megumi's lap, its fluffy body a soft ball. Even more surprising was that its small cat paws were actually nimbly holding chopsticks, picking up a piece of grilled fish with a practiced motion, as if it had practiced countless times.

"Eat slowly," Kato Megumi gently stroked its back, her tone carrying a hint of indulgence.

Around them, a marvelous scene of dining together was unfolding. Yukino Mifuyu sat upright on the left, her posture as elegant as a painting. She sipped her tea in small gulps, occasionally picking up an exquisite wagashi, her movements so gentle that even her sleeves didn't make a sound. That cool temperament was out of place with the surrounding bustle, yet it subtly blended into the atmosphere.

Tohru, on the other side, had a completely different style. This dragon girl had long since cast her reserve aside, with the plates in front of her piled up like a small mountain. She used both hands, grabbing shrimp tempura with one and stuffing glutinous rice balls into her mouth with the other, her cheeks bulging and her dragon tail wagging happily behind her.

"This is delicious! That's also super great!" she praised indistinctly, her eyes shining as she stared at the plate of teriyaki chicken in the center of the table that was almost empty.

Yukino smiled slightly and gently pushed the plate in front of her over: "If you don't mind, please have some."

"Really? Thank you, Yuki-chan!" Tohru joyfully took it, then turned to see Fat Wave's skillful use of chopsticks and couldn't help but exclaim, "The little kitty can actually use chopsticks! That's amazing!"

Fat Wave wagged its tail proudly, deliberately picking up a pea and tracing an elegant arc in the air before slowly putting it into its mouth. That little show-off behavior made Kato Megumi shake her head slightly, though a faint smile rippled in her eyes.

Yukino watched this scene quietly, her gaze lingering for a moment on Kato Megumi's hand stroking Fat Wave, then she lowered her eyes and poured herself another cup of tea. The swirling steam blurred her beautiful face and hid the fleeting, subtle concern in her eyes.

"Speaking of which, the various universities haven't been very peaceful lately," Mr. Long spoke up at the right time, pulling Lin Luo's attention back. "The Department Headquarters is really short-staffed; are you interested in taking on a mission?"

He picked up his teacup and said calmly, "There's no need to worry too much about the Infinity Castle for now. The injuries they've sustained are enough for them to recuperate for a while."

Lin Luo looked down at his phone screen, and several push notifications popped up in the mission bar:

【Tōtsuki Culinary Academy · Senzaemon Nakiri Poisoned and Comatose — Suspected Supernatural Toxin Involvement】

【Campus Ghost Story · Hanako-san of the Toilet — Urban Legend Materialization Confirmed】

【Sakurajima Mai Spiriting Away Incident — Suspected Divine Means (Risk Rating: High Danger)】

Lin Luo looked at the three mission prompts lighting up simultaneously on the screen, his mouth twitching slightly.

He thought this was a multiple-choice question! Instead, all three missions popped up with confirmation interfaces—this was clearly a rhythm requiring him to take over the whole lot.

"Hey, hey, Mr. Long, I'm just a contractor!" He couldn't help but facepalm. "Does the Department Headquarters dare to dump this level of trouble directly onto a contractor?"

Mr. Long took a sip of tea calmly, a knowing smile flickering in his eyes: "I've personally evaluated it. Don't worry, it shouldn't be much of a problem for you."

His fingertip gently stroked the edge of the teacup, his tone soothing: "As for the last one, just handle it a bit carefully; there's no need to be too concerned."

Coming out of the tea room, Lin Luo followed closely behind Mr. Long, his brow furrowed so deeply it could crush a fly.

It hadn't even been half an hour since he signed the "contractor" agreement, and he had been stuffed with three hot potatoes all at once—the poisoning incident at Tōtsuki Culinary Academy, the revived urban legend, and that eerie Spiriting Away case. He couldn't help but wail in his heart: Is being an off-staff member this competitive nowadays?

"Mr. Long," he walked a few steps faster to catch up, "I'm just a newcomer. Taking on three missions at once... isn't that thinking a bit too highly of me?"

Mr. Long, walking ahead, didn't stop but slightly turned his head, his lips curling into a half-smile: "Those who are capable should do more work. Besides..." He paused, pointedly glancing at Lin Luo, "You are no ordinary newcomer."

Lin Luo was suddenly speechless.

The sunlight outside the corridor was a bit dazzling. He squinted at the courtyard. Kato Megumi was still sitting in the same spot, Fat Wave spread out on her lap like a cat pancake, Yukino Mifuyu was quietly sipping tea, and Tohru... Tohru was trying to stuff an entire taiyaki into her mouth in one go.

This scene of daily life strangely smoothed out the anxiety in his heart.

Whatever. Since trouble had come knocking, he would solve it.

Once the two of them were seated under the corridor, Isshiki Reimei suddenly spoke, his voice as gentle as ever: "The Old Bookseller sent word today that he's coming back, but it's uncertain exactly when he'll arrive at the apartments. If Mr. Lin Luo isn't in a hurry, you might as well wait here for a bit."

Lin Luo was startled upon hearing this, then realized—right, when he first obtained that modified cicada song collection, he had indeed heard them mention this Senior.

"So it's him," Lin Luo smiled. "That legendary 'BOOK MASTER.' However, I'm not specialized in the lineage of Magic Book Users; for now, being able to use it as a backup is enough."

In truth, he didn't want to spend all his time at Longevity Manor. Although Longevity Manor was lively, and Little Ruri would help cook whatever he wanted to eat, no matter the time, even so, he didn't want to be stuck here.

While Lin Luo was still thinking about how to politely decline Isshiki Reimei's suggestion, a dull "thud" suddenly came from the restaurant entrance.

Everyone turned their heads at the sound to see a man with shoulder-length brown hair and round-framed glasses standing at the door. He wore a faded denim outfit, with a silver buckle hanging from a coffee-colored leather belt and a sapphire necklace faintly gleaming around his neck. Stubble was scattered around his lips, and he had a short cigarette hanging from his mouth; the whole person exuded a desolate aura of a wanderer.

"Mr. Old Bookseller! You're finally back!" Isshiki Reimei was the first to recognize him, his voice filled with surprise.

The man addressed as the Old Bookseller tilted his head up and took a deep breath—

"It's the aroma of dashi!"

He rushed to the dining table in a few strides, looking at the table full of dishes, his eyes almost brimming with tears:

"Soba! Sushi! It's Japanese cuisine!"

Before his voice had even faded, he had already slumped onto the tatami, his posture like that of a long-wandering traveler who had finally stepped onto his homeland.

Little Ruri quietly approached, carrying a plate of braised radish. The Old Bookseller immediately took her hand and reverently placed a kiss on the back of it:

"It's wonderful, Miss Ruri, you are the best! You really are the most amazing chef! For the past year and a half, not a day has gone by that I haven't missed your cooking! Is there rice? Rice! Please give me white rice... and pickles!"

Ruri nodded gently, her fingers unconsciously twisting the edge of her apron.

The Old Bookseller took the wine handed over by Fukase Akira, drained it in one gulp, and a look of heartfelt intoxication appeared on his face.

"Wandering all the way from Africa to the Middle East! Always circling through remote countryside. Forget Japanese cuisine, I couldn't even find anything remotely palatable. Ah—this wine is truly fantastic!"

Ruriko brought more steaming white rice, along with nukazuke cabbage, pickled cucumbers, and braised sea bass. The Old Bookseller ate self-forgetfully, even sucking the marrow of the sea bass bone clean.

Tohru, watching from the side with envy, couldn't help but raise her hand: "Miss Ghost, I want a serving too."

The Old Bookseller filled his belly with Ruriko's cooking and finally agreed to stop and rest. He held up the warm tea and let out a satisfied sigh: "The tea is great too."

Only then did he notice many new faces in the apartment. His gaze searched through the crowd for a moment, finally landing on a certain figure: "Hey, aren't you that... that... um, whose?"

"Lin Luo. But I don't live here."

"Have we met somewhere before? You look very familiar." The Old Bookseller pushed his round-framed glasses, trying to recall.

Isshiki Reimei chuckled, "You forgot, when Mr. Lin Luo first came, we all peeked at him."

Reminded, the Old Bookseller immediately remembered. His eyes behind the lenses widened slightly: "Oh, oh, the one carrying a prop with a heavy aura of resentment. It's you!" He looked Lin Luo up and down, his tone carrying a bit of surprise, "Your aura has become very clean now."

"Not only that," Isshiki Reimei took over the conversation with a smile, as if sharing big news. "That prop has been purified now and has even become Mr. Lin Luo's reliable partner. Just like you, he's called a BOOK MASTER. Senior should take good care of your junior."

"BOOK MASTER?" Hearing this, the Old Bookseller's face instantly lit up with the glow of finding a kindred spirit. He immediately put down his teacup and unconsciously sat up straight. "This is no common fate. Come, come," he warmly beckoned Lin Luo to sit closer, his tone full of curiosity and Senior-like concern, "Quickly tell me, what kind of 'book' did you encounter? I have a lot of experience in this process."

Lin Luo felt helpless. This man with messy long hair, unshaven stubble, and a travel-worn appearance was a far cry from the "Senior" he had imagined. Yet, at this moment, he had categorized him as a "Junior" with an unquestionable enthusiasm. However, the unreserved, almost innocent eagerness in the man's eyes made it difficult to feel any real aversion.