National University is the top higher learning institution in the country.
Faceless Ghost had successfully infiltrated the school for four or five days, and had gathered information about the school and the class of the deceased girl. However, the school had clear class divisions with many invisible circles, and his nouveau riche identity made him particularly awkward. He could neither blend into the elite circles nor break into the ranks of the common folk. The worst part was his mediocre academic abilities and his nondescript appearance. Even attempting to attract a few women to gather information proved to be a struggle.
"Can't I change to a better identity? Like a handsome genius or a top student?" Faceless Ghost complained to Taras as he crawled into the police car at night.
"Being too famous would expose you. Your current identity is perfect."
"But the deceased Levine was a special admit to this school. For the sake of reputation, the school reserves spots every year for some outstanding poor students from society. My identity is neither poor nor a top student, so no one pays attention to me."
"Have you noticed any bullying in the school?"
Faceless Ghost hesitated, then shook his head. "It's not really bullying. Those kids seem like they've entered society too early. They stick to their own circles, with clear hierarchies. You know, the nation is ruled by businessmen, so the wealthy and powerful students stick together, never mixing with the commoners. And as for special admits, they probably don't even speak outside of class."
Taras took out the new information he had prepared. "I'm afraid you haven't discovered the real inside story. I've checked into Levine. She visited this high-end club multiple times in the six months before her death. It's the most exclusive club in the wealthy district. And the first anonymous tip about the appearance of the drug G-11 came from that club."
"She could get in? Without someone guiding her, normal people can't enter that club."
"That's the key. Someone must have taken her in, and the source of the drugs must be linked to that club. You've been wandering around for the past half month, and clearly, no one has been watching you."
"But with my identity, indulging in pleasure and excess, the perfect image of a spoiled heir—surely this is enough to attract attention and tempt them into crime? It seems I'll have to take the initiative and conduct an undercover investigation."
"Clearly, there are other key points we've overlooked. Be cautious if you're going to take the initiative. This is a transnational drug case, but there is a business-dominated country, and the power behind that club is not to be underestimated. What's crucial is that there are hidden experts involved. I will find a way to infiltrate the club and serve as a host. You, on the other hand, should focus on finding new breakthroughs at the school. Two-pronged approach."
On the other side, Arabella had disguised herself with a new face, using this year's special admit quota to transfer to the school. Nicholas was capable enough to forge her an impeccable identity. She usually kept a low profile, and her disguise was ordinary, with nothing remarkable about her face. Only her snow-white skin stood out, as she refused to use any cosmetics and chose to give up altering her skin tone.
Arabella calmly entered the classroom where Levine was. Faceless Ghost, dozing off in the corner by the window, didn't notice her. She walked steadily past his desk and chose an empty seat nearby. Across from her, a well-mannered young man with glasses smiled warmly at her, and she casually nodded in return. When the bell rang for the end of class, Faceless Ghost wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth and, with a sweep of his gaze, noticed the new student sitting not far away. He vaguely recalled hearing about a new classmate earlier, but a quick glance revealed nothing remarkable. He lowered his gaze, losing interest.
In the dead of night, the entire school gradually fell into silence. Faceless Ghost moved stealthily through the shadows, slipping into the student council and several classrooms of suspicious targets, searching for any clues—yet finding nothing. After tirelessly searching until past two in the morning, he suddenly sensed something unusual on the rooftop of the teaching building. Without hesitation, he sprinted toward it. However, when he reached the roof, it was empty. His movements had been swift; no ordinary person could have evaded his pursuit—unless their skills far surpassed his own. At this moment, Faceless Ghost had no choice but to exercise caution. In the face of absolute strength, one wrong step could mean death.
He carefully searched the area once more, and finally, in an inconspicuous corner beneath a cluster of leaves, he found a crushed shoulder insignia. According to the school's regulations, the shoulder insignias differed by gender and grade, and this particular one was clearly from a first-year female student. What Faceless Ghost didn't realize was that the "opponent" he was chasing had already been outwitted by Arabella, who had gotten to the person first. After knocking them out, she carried them in her arms and swiftly scaled the outside of the building, moving from floor to floor with ease. She quickly reached the first floor and vanished into the shadows. The gap between Faceless Ghost and Arabella was significant, and even though she had an additional burden to carry, she was still easily able to escape his pursuit.
The girl taken by Arabella woke up in the hotel, initially glaring at her with eyes full of hatred, refusing to speak at all. It wasn't until Arabella slowly revealed her identity and the connection with Levine that the girl, named Amy, suddenly changed her expression. She said excitedly, "Are you a police officer sent to investigate Levine's case? Officer, I swear, Levine would never have committed suicide."
Arabella quietly extracted all the information from Amy about Levine's situation over the past six months. She learned that they both grew up in an orphanage on the outskirts of the country, with Levine being two years older than Amy, widely recognized as a genius and exceptionally beautiful. Over a year ago, Levine had been accepted as a special recruit. Things had been going well until just over six months ago, when Levine, troubled and emotional, secretly called Amy. She admitted to making a mistake, expressing fear and reluctance to confess. Amy sensed that Levine was being coerced and tried to help, but after that, she lost contact with her. At the time, Amy had been in a distant city participating in the national exams and couldn't make it to the capital in time to find Levine. That had been her greatest regret—by the time the exams were over and she was ready to come, Levine was already dead.
"Officer, I am willing to cooperate with your investigation. I know Levine; she would have left clues. Please trust me."
Disguised, Taras entered the club only to find that the place was still strictly hierarchical. While the ordinary areas were full of extravagance and indulgence, they were not the targets he sought. The VIP floors above the third floor were off-limits to him, and it was said that with each floor, the scrutiny grew stricter. The attendants there were exceptional, having to stay at the club for two or three years before being given a chance for promotion. As a newcomer, Taras had no right to enter.
The invisible circles of power restricted his search for the truth. Taras had been secretly observing the club for several days and was certain that the key information was hidden on the seventh floor, accessible only by a private elevator. The people coming and going from there were big players. Unfortunately, he couldn't approach openly, and he feared that if he made any moves, he might alert the unknown top-tier experts who might be lurking on that floor. Fortunately, an opportunity soon presented itself. Several wealthy women from the VIP floors took an interest in him. Seeing his impressive qualities and flirtatious charm, the head of the floor made an exception and promoted him to the fifth floor to serve those women.
Though Taras made it to the fifth floor, it felt as distant from the seventh as if reaching for the sky. Each floor had its own guards, and the elevator was staffed with personnel. Every employee's privileges were strictly defined—Taras could go no higher than the fifth floor, not even a step further. The only advantage was that after skillfully mingling with the wealthy women, he had managed to gather a rough understanding of the club's layout.
On the surface, the club had two major bosses, but in reality, there were others pulling the strings behind the scenes. On the fifth floor, he saw the presence of g-11 and other unspeakable scenes. He even witnessed the infamous "delivery," where the club's beautiful women were occasionally drugged and taken away. Taras knew all too well how chaotic and corrupt the world was—just like the black market dealings of the infamous Spanka, where human trafficking ran rampant. Whenever Taras thought of these heinous acts, a flame of anger would ignite within him. In this moment, he was powerless to stop them; all he could do was clench his teeth and endure, waiting for the day he could completely dismantle this vast criminal empire and, from its very roots, liberate those women.
If police officers, burdened with responsibility and ideals, were destined to endure immense pressure, then he, who had long navigated between the realms of justice and the illicit world, had to carry even greater burdens. He faced choices that were unimaginable, bearing the weight of humiliation and suffering.
Just as Taras was racking his brain for a way forward, someone arrived on the seventh floor today. The entire corridor was covered in thick, luxurious soundproof carpets, and not a sound could be heard as footsteps echoed. The seventh floor had only a few rooms, each door tightly shut, not a sound slipping through. In the wide corridor stood a group of tall, imposing men in black uniforms, standing like statues, awaiting orders from their master.
At the end of the long corridor, in the largest private room, a massive television screen played the sounds of heavy breathing. The enlarged images showed a group of men holding down a naked woman, surrounded by sex toys scattered across the floor. The men laughed wantonly, as if the woman kneeling on the ground was nothing more than a toy to be abused.
The screen was filled with chaos and indulgence, but the room itself was eerily quiet. Not far from the screen stood a young man, holding a submachine gun and loading bullets. He wore only a vest, and the thin fabric couldn't hide his muscular physique, which exuded raw masculinity and an overwhelming sense of power.
In a dim corner of the room, a figure sat in shadow, his face obscured by the backlight. His legs were casually spread apart, dressed in simple casual clothes, yet his broad shoulders and narrow waist still exuded undeniable male charm.
There was another person in the room, the only one completely absorbed in the screen. He appeared very young, almost as if still a child, yet his features already displayed a sharp, striking beauty—almost painfully captivating. Simply standing there, he exuded an unparalleled grace, his eyes glimmering with an allure that could rival that of a male siren, enchanting anyone who met his gaze.
On the screen, the woman groaned in agony, her suffering almost unbearable. The young man clapped his hands like he was watching a performance, grinning as he addressed the armed youth beside him, "Jack, how long do you think she'll last before she dies?"
Jack, who was cleaning his gun, didn't even raise his eyelids, uninterested as he dismissed, "Don't waste time on someone useless."
No sooner had he finished speaking than a knock came at the door. Upon receiving permission, a young man in a white uniform was forcefully dragged in, crashing to the floor with a loud thud. His face was filled with fear and unease, and he trembled, too terrified to lift his head.
The person sitting in the shadows spoke, his voice gentle, "Don't be nervous, take your time and speak."
Upon hearing this, the young man trembled even more. His intuition told him that the one who spoke was extremely dangerous. He lowered his head and whispered, "It's exactly as you gentlemen expected. Two individuals disguised in the school, one male and one female."
Jack's eyes brightened upon hearing this, and he immediately asked, "Are you sure?"
"Absolutely certain. Our family has long researched the disguise potion. Even the faintest scent can be detected. Those two must be using some sort of disguise."
As soon as his words fell, the man who had been sitting stood up. Only then did the young man see his face—sharp brows, starry eyes, and a detached, indifferent expression. He extended his hand, signaling for his subordinates to bring forward the two individuals' dossiers. After scanning them for a moment, a slow, satisfied smile curled at his lips. "Arabella has arrived."
Upon hearing the name "Arabella," the handsome young man reached for the file and began to study it carefully. His eyebrows raised slightly, and a glimmer of desire flickered in his eyes, his overly excited gaze revealing a more twisted side of him. "The woman who could make Norris settle down… I've been wanting to see her for a long time. The infamous Master Unknown."
Jack snorted and said, "I see the police rats have arrived too. Galiler, what do you say we take care of them first?"
Galiler, standing up with a calm expression, shook his head. His long fingers tapped lightly together. "Take it slow. Our game is just beginning, isn't it?"
