Chapter 3: Investigation and Suspicion

After dealing with the two-legged sheep, it was already getting dark. Its sheepskin could be sold for cash. The rest of the materials—I could try out in the [Alchemy] interface. The drop rate was pretty high. But the cost: my demon and divine power were nearly depleted, and I’d picked up a negative status—[Fatigue].

My phone vibrated with a little red [Low Energy] warning, and my avatar’s face drooped like a wilting sunflower. Realistic enough to remind me I should get off my butt and stretch.

Returned to Ethan’s house. At a glance, I saw him waiting at the door.

He was leaning against the porch railing, tapping his boot nervously against the boards. Fireflies danced in the background, the old screen door creaking in the wind.

[He seems worried about your safety.]

“You’re back? Go rest.”

His voice must be gentle, I thought. I chose: “No need to wait for me next time. You should get some sleep.”

He smiled. “You know I can’t sleep well unless you’re here.”

I could practically see him blushing, rubbing the back of his neck. The dialogue read like something out of a 90s romance flick.

Isn’t this just another stand-in romance trope? Once I’ve sorted out the Hollow Spirit statue, I should move on. I don’t like being a substitute, even in a game.

But for now, I went with the flow—just another day in virtual suburbia.

A few days later, my divine power cap finally hit 100, surpassing my 90 demon power. I shouldn’t have to fear the demon hunting squad now, right?

The game pinged with a little fireworks animation, as if congratulating me on leveling up. Finally, some insurance against those government spooks.

I set the game to auto-play and did some homework. When I’m not actively playing, the game’s time flows in real time.

I propped my phone on the edge of my desk, letting Maple Hollow tick away in the background while I slogged through a mountain of econ notes. Multitasking—America’s real national sport.

Two hours later, I reopened the game.

[You’re under investigation. Great. Just what I needed.]

[Someone jealous that Ethan married such a beautiful wife has reported you to the demon hunting squad for coming back from the dead.]

Figures. Every town has its busybodies, always peeking through their blinds, just itching to stir the pot. The worst part? Half the time, they’re family.

Whoever did this, I’ll settle the score with them!

I cracked my knuckles, grinning at the challenge. Time to teach some digital gossips a lesson.

In the illustration, Ethan was still standing protectively in front of me. “Officers, this is a misunderstanding—Maggie can’t be a demon.”

He looked determined, jaw set, standing between me and the guys in black windbreakers stamped with the gold eagle. For a second, I actually felt proud of him.

A fierce-looking demon hunter said, “Whether she is or not, that’s for us to decide. Recently, a lot of workers have been eaten by monsters on the road, and there aren’t enough people to finish the Memorial. We’re under strict orders to clear things up, and with this warrant, it’s not your place to—”

His voice had that clipped, no-nonsense tone—like a detective from a cop drama, more interested in crossing names off a list than finding the truth. The tension was thick enough to cut with a butter knife.