Reversed Water

The cheers rang out again, even more frantic than before.

The Superhuman Youth Corps' worship of the Demon Witch had reached its peak in that moment; some even dropped to their knees.

Except for those who knew the truth.

They simply stood there, watching the Demon Witch's performance.

Yes—performance.

Everyone believed the victory was already sealed. Against the Demon Witch's level of overwhelming power, anyone would have to kneel.

But was that really the case?

Yet Eastern Leaf noticed a small detail.

Eric and Sam walked out from the remains of the dragon's carcass. Both were covered in dust, their clothes filthy—but their expressions...

They were utterly calm.

Not the calm of resignation, but something else entirely.

Eastern Leaf frowned.

The two of them had been beaten this badly, and they showed not a shred of panic. Sam's lips even curled up slightly.

Something wasn't right.

They seemed confident, almost assured.

"Surrender," the Demon Witch said from above, looking down on them.

"Struggle any longer, and you'll die ugly deaths."

Her tone sounded like an attempt to coax their surrender, but her eyes said something else entirely. She didn't want them to surrender at all.

She'd already captured two agents of the Divine Eye Bureau—if these two died, it didn't matter.

She rarely got a chance to show off her power in front of such a crowd. She wanted to play a little longer.

Eric raised his head.

He wasn't looking at the Demon Witch's face, but at the spot where she hovered, as if confirming some kind of coordinate.

"Did you know?"—his voice wasn't loud, but it carried far across the battlefield that had gone quiet—"Your Superhuman Youth Corps holds no secrets from our Divine Eye Bureau."

For the first time, the Demon Witch's expression shifted.

"Not a single secret," Eric repeated, then he smiled. "Director Cui."

The Demon Witch's pupils contracted sharply.

Eric continued: "You think this was all under your control, do you?"

The Demon Witch felt something was wrong. The consciousness inside her body was screaming in alarm, the sense of danger surging over her like a wave, sudden and overwhelming.

Her hand snapped up, fingers splayed, ready to slap the two of them to death in one strike.

With that blow, she was certain their fragile mortal bodies wouldn't survive.

But just as her hand reached shoulder height, her pupils suddenly went slack. Her consciousness snapped—

Like a television being yanked from its power source, the image flickered and went black.

Director Cui snapped his eyes open.

When he opened them again, he found himself back in his original body.

He instinctively reached for his head—the helmet was gone.

"Director Cui, awake?"

A voice came from straight ahead.

Director Cui's pupils contracted sharply.

Smiling Face stood three steps in front of him, wearing that signature grin.

In Smiling Face's hand—was the helmet itself.

Director Cui's back was instantly drenched in cold sweat.

"You—what do you think you're doing!"

The voice that came from his throat was dry and hoarse, breathless—nothing like the feeling of piloting the Demon Witch moments ago.

Director Cui tried to stand, but his legs gave out. He felt as weak as someone just recovering from a severe illness, only able to half-collapse in his chair, glaring daggers at Smiling Face.

The phrase "all bark and no bite" pretty much described him exactly at that moment.

Smiling Face didn't seem bothered by his glare.

"Director Cui, let me be honest with you—your ambition is too big."

Smiling Face gestured upward with his free hand, "You've influenced everyone above you. You've put everyone on the fire to roast, and you think you're doing something great."

"This is treason!"

Director Cui clenched his fists, knuckles cracking. But even that gesture sent tremors through his arms.

This body was too weak.

Separated from the Demon Witch's shell, he was nothing.

"The rise of my Great Stick Republic is coming! Do you have any idea what you're doing?! You're burying our entire future!"

"Director Cui." Smiling Face cut him off.

His tone was mild, his smile mild—but what he said was anything but.

"That rise is yours. What does it have to do with us?"

Smiling Face tilted his head. "How many of those kids in the Superhuman Youth Corps live past thirty? You know it better than I do. To you, we're stepping stones. Consumables. Use and discard."

Director Cui opened his mouth to argue.

But Smiling Face didn't give him the chance.

"But if we work with the Divine Eye Bureau, we survive."

When those words landed, Director Cui heard footsteps coming from behind Smiling Face.

It was the two who had been cuffed in suppressed-power handcuffs earlier. Now their wrists were bare—the cuffs had apparently been removed at some point without anyone noticing.

Which meant—from the very beginning, those cuffs had never truly held them.

Director Cui's mind raced. Suddenly, a dozen details he couldn't piece together earlier snapped into place, forming a clear, connected line.

"So that was it—you let yourselves be captured to get sent to me," he said.

Behind Smiling Face, Ivy's expression stiffened. She wanted to say no, that wasn't it.

"The Divine Eye Bureau won't give you what you want!" Director Cui's voice rose a few notches. "They're lying to you! Once they've used you up, they'll—"

"Aren't you lying to us too?"

Smiling Face laughed, genuinely.

"The Superhuman Youth Corps needs to change direction, Director Cui. Your path is a dead end. Working with the Divine Eye Bureau—that's the real way out."

Smiling Face wasn't wasting any more words—he just raised his hand.

A thick wave of terror surged upward from the bottom of Director Cui's soul.

He knew Smiling Face's ability all too well. His emotions were being manipulated.

Under fear, he knew exactly what would happen to him.

So Director Cui reacted instantly. His hand went into his pocket and came out with a palm-sized remote control, held in a death grip.

"Smiling Face!"

His voice shook, but he struggled to make himself look like he still had a card to play.

"I'm the one who brought you out of that orphanage! When you were digging through garbage for leftover food, I gave you a life! Made you an S-class! If I could give you all that, I can take it all back!"

His thumb hovered over the button on the remote.

The detonator for the micro-bomb implanted in Smiling Face's body.

Every kid in the Superhuman Youth Corps had one. It was Director Cui's insurance—his bottom line.

Smiling Face watched him. He didn't dodge.

"Go ahead. Push it."

Director Cui froze.

Smiling Face even took a step forward.

His grin stretched wide—wider than a normal human face should be able to stretch. It looked deeply unnatural.

"Director Cui, have you ever considered—after your consciousness transferred into the Demon Witch, I had plenty of time to just take this remote from you."

Director Cui's finger went rigid.

"But I didn't," Smiling Face said.

"Guess why?"

Without waiting for an answer, Smiling Face reached out, took the remote from Director Cui's hand, and pressed the button—once, twice, three, four, five, six times in front of him.

Nothing happened.

"Because I stopped being afraid of this thing a long time ago."

"The implant inside me came out two years ago, Director Cui. You've been too busy lately—busy scheming, busy dreaming of your rise, so many things slipped past you."

Director Cui's face went completely white.