Little Pink Starfish

This newly introduced setting, in Yuan Yuanyuan’s eyes, felt a bit like a refuge for Faning. For the main character of a comic, no matter how unlucky he got, the artist wouldn’t just kill him off in one blow.

This place was kind of like where Ichigo trained in seclusion in the past. Yuan Yuanyuan thought about it for three seconds and decided—yeah, that was probably what it was supposed to be.

What impressed her most in this chapter wasn’t the plot, but the change in Faning’s appearance. As for the rest of the story, she felt like she could already guess the patterns.

Like hiding away somewhere to quietly recuperate, only to make a shocking comeback later—Yuan Yuanyuan had seen this same arc in at least three different hot-blooded shounen manga.

Why was she so sure? Because she thought the guy in the red sweater looked very familiar.

She stared for a while but couldn’t quite figure out why. Still, after three seconds, she suddenly found that this red-sweater guy looked… kind of inexplicably attractive.

Hmm… Yuan Yuanyuan sank into deep thought.

In her experience, people who looked that good were usually big bosses.

The classic example? Professor Snape.

Back when Harry Potter had just come out, all her friends thought Snape looked shady. But Yuan Yuanyuan, always the contrarian, thought he seemed pretty likable.

And in the end? Snape turned out to be a hidden badass. Yuan Yuanyuan’s trust in her own instincts skyrocketed after that.

So now, looking at this red-sweater man in the comic—no, red-sweater boss—she couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to become one of those big-deal characters who helps the protagonist power up.

That was her prediction—and she swore on her decade of manga-reading experience that she was probably right.

But this issue didn’t show much more of the red-sweater boss. Instead, it focused on Faning’s recent daily life.

Which felt a little off to Yuan Yuanyuan. Faning was now clearly living in some grim, spooky-looking place. He said he was working part-time, but the place looked more like a shady black-market hub.

There were lots of assignments being handed out, and people didn’t talk much. Everyone kept their distance. Yuan Yuanyuan couldn’t quite understand why Faning would choose to work in a place like this.

Still, she had a vague sense of why he now looked the way he did—his gloomy appearance matched the eerie atmosphere of the place he was living in.

She watched him come out of the red-sweater boss’s house in the morning, heading off to work. He accepted a job, walked into a foggy street, and somehow looked… very alone.

After finishing the chapter, Yuan Yuanyuan summarized the story: Faning had found a black-market-like place and was now working there to support himself. The red-sweater guy who took him in seemed like a big shot, but the two of them hadn’t had much interaction yet.

But… there was a faint whiff of potential bromance.

Yuan Yuanyuan put down her phone and began tidying up. She still had work that night, so she needed to clean up the house first.

Halfway through cleaning, she suddenly heard a soft knock at her door. Turning around, she saw no one. When she opened it, a small box sat on the ground.

Yuan Yuanyuan looked around cautiously, hesitated, then picked up the box and brought it inside.

Back in her room, she put on rubber kitchen gloves, grabbed two long bamboo sticks, and carefully opened the box like it might explode.

Inside was a long, smooth tobacco pipe. It was practically unadorned.

The moment Yuan Yuanyuan saw it, she knew who had come by.

She peeked outside, still confused. Was that the black-robed guy? Why didn’t he come in?

Every time before, he had either knocked and entered or just barged in for tea. So it was weird for him to leave the pipe and vanish.

Still, with the pipe in hand, Yuan Yuanyuan didn’t overthink it. She picked it up and wiped it down. It felt cool and heavy in her hand. The mouthpiece was made of red agate—simple, elegant, and eye-catching.

She casually held it to her lips—no tobacco, no flame—and thought… this thing was perfect for showing off.

Meanwhile, in the city of C, monsters bustled about in their daily routines.

He walked over, picked up a bag, and packed the corpse inside.

It was said that murderers often gouged out their victims’ eyes, because eyes could—well, Liu An had heard all kinds of things.

He didn’t look at the dead demon’s face, just quickly stuffed him into the sack.

“Have you noticed there’ve been way more bodies around lately?” said a voice nearby.

It was a guy with three scars on his face—the same one Liu An had complained about on his first day. But now that they’d worked together a while, Liu An actually found him the easiest to get along with.

Not that this guy was any saint.

Liu An looked around. It was true. Three days ago, he’d already started noticing. Usually, there weren’t that many deaths here, but recently the body count had doubled—maybe tripled.

And every one of them… died horribly. There was something eerie about it.

“What is this place, anyway?” Liu An suddenly asked.

“This is the Li residence,” Scarface replied. “They’re a big clan, pretty reputable. If there are this many bodies, something must’ve gone wrong.”

“Hmph.” Liu An snorted and looked away.

When demons died unnaturally, people always suspected something.

Demons themselves were valuable resources—bones, blood, demon cores…

“Don’t think too much,” Scarface said. “Let’s just do our job. And the Li family really is a respected clan—one of the oldest in C City.”

“These demons… died too cleanly,” Liu An said. “No struggle, and they weren’t weaklings.”

“That just makes it easier. Maybe the Li clan is handling their own dirty laundry,” Scarface said. “They’ve had a lot on their plate lately. That heiress of theirs has been driving them nuts. Everything about the Li family is fine—except her.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Liu An asked.

“You don’t know?” Scarface plopped down, looking intrigued. “That Li heiress is a total slacker. Tutors used to come teach her—she ran every one of them off. She was supposed to marry for the clan, but her family let her pick her own partner. And every guy she picked was worse than the last.”

“Her last one was a Taoist—supposedly pretty powerful. She chased after him like crazy. Got nearly killed in the process. The Li family handled the guy real quick, but less than a month later—bam, new boyfriend.”

“…A human?” Liu An hesitated.

“Yep, human. And worse than the last one,” Scarface said. “No idea what the Li family’s gonna do. But with all these demon corpses around… better not take any jobs from them for now.”

Liu An didn’t reply. He looked down at the bodies, then quietly went back to work.

The Li Residence was brightly lit, lanterns glowing elegantly in the night.

“Still awake?” someone softly knocked on a quiet room’s door.

“Come in.”

The door opened, and a figure stepped in—dressed in black, wearing the Li clan’s unmistakable insignia.

“I’ve completed the task you gave me. But it seems that after the latest chapter of Demon Notes, the public sentiment is starting to shift,” the person said.

“…Forget it,” came the weary reply from inside. “If it can’t be helped, then stop spreading rumors about Yuan being a traitor. If we push too hard, people will get suspicious.”

“Understood,” the messenger said. “But why cancel the bounty on the human side? Wouldn’t it be better to let the Taoists deal with him?”

“The less contact he has with Taoists, the better,” said the man inside. He turned his head, eyes sharp. “Besides, why would you think a high-level demon would fear something like that? What do you take us for?”

The man standing at the door was overwhelmed by pressure. His face turned pale, and he bowed deeply. “S-sorry.”

“Forget it. Leave. And keep a low profile. If any leaked info turns up—destroy it.”

“Yes, sir.”

…

Yuan Yuanyuan, dressed for her night shift, stood in the kitchen. She placed a bottle of liquor into the warmer and casually scrolled through the online comments. After this latest chapter, the comment count had been climbing steadily.

She started reading the most popular ones—some of them were pretty entertaining.

[Why didn’t we get more Yuan?! Why?! Do you hate him?!]
[Exactly! Come on, Ji Qiu, this is criminal!]
[If Yuan keeps hiding away like this, Faning might forget him… I still ship them! But this coldness is killing me.]
[Don’t worry—Faning’s definitely going to be important later on. He’s probably the final boss, so hang in there. Winter always ends, spring always comes.]
[That red-sweater guy who took Faning in this issue… why does it feel so suspiciously bromantic? What’s his motive for helping Faning?]
[He definitely has a motive. I’m telling you—this is classic manga setup. He and Faning are totally going to have a thing.]

Yuan Yuanyuan earnestly typed under that last comment:

“Exactly. Let that red-sweater boss ship with Faning, and let Yuan go free!”

That was just how her brain worked—pair Faning with the new guy, and maybe Yuan could finally catch a break.

She read a lot of boy-love comics and fanfics online, but she always felt a weird disconnect. As much as she liked the genre, she couldn’t bring herself to ship Yuan and Faning.

But this red-sweater boss? He gave off actual chemistry.

Age-gap dynamics were king, after all. Yuan Yuanyuan nodded in firm agreement with herself.

Go forth, young man. Fall in love. Let Yuan live.

She’d been warming liquor for a while when someone suddenly slinked over beside her, inching along like a caterpillar.

Yuan Yuanyuan turned her head and saw Si Qun sneaking toward her in a white shirt, big bright eyes like shiny grapes.

Every time she saw that pretty face, Yuan Yuanyuan’s mood improved.

She asked, “What’s up? Why are you sneaking around?”

“M-my sister…” Si Qun said in a whisper, “She’s been going out a lot lately. I don’t know where she’s been going.”

“…Don’t worry. I’ll go with you,” Yuan Yuanyuan said, feeling weirdly heroic.

She wiped down the counter, then sat on a small stool and idly flipped through her phone.

A few swipes later, she stumbled on an old chat log.

Her hand paused. She scrolled up.

[BlackRed: Holy crap! So that really happened back then?]
[Group Leader: It was Yuan. Black-and-white proof. After his death, the spy corps was wiped out within three years. Know how?]
[BlackRed: Didn’t it say the spy demons refused orders, so they were executed?]
[Group Leader: Wrong. That’s just a polite way of putting it. “Refused orders” is true, and they were wiped out, but does it make sense to kill them all just for disobedience? Who even has that authority?]
[BlackRed: …now that you mention it, yeah, that is suspicious.]
[Group Leader: I thought all night and came up with a plan.]
[BlackRed: What plan?]
[Group Leader: If it were me, I wouldn’t kill the spy corps—I’d promote them. Give them dangerous missions. Ones they’d never survive. Clean and quiet.]
[BlackRed: …]
[Group Leader: Just think—why would they rebel? Because Yuan died. Which means they were loyal to him.]
[BlackRed: I’m slow. Just say it.]
[Group Leader: Who were they refusing to obey? Who did they really oppose?]
[BlackRed: …The leader of the Hundred Demons?]
[Group Leader: You got it.]
[BlackRed: HOLY SHIT. You’re a genius.]
[Group Leader: Let’s not talk about this anymore. We’ll get censored. I’m looking into flights to Africa. Not sure I can even get a visa.]

Reading this, Yuan Yuanyuan realized two things: she’d just learned a bit more about what happened back then—and Fat Cat was sneaky as hell.

She had to take a break halfway through—it hit her harder than she expected.

Why?

She didn’t even know. But reading about the past made a quiet fury burn inside her.

It wasn’t loud. It was a cold, dark fire—like the flames of vengeance.

Yuan Yuanyuan felt like Yuan had lived his life with so much repression.

And if someone had treated her or her friends like that—she would’ve stabbed them with a bag of spicy sticks already.

But this anger she felt now… had nowhere to go.

—Because Yuan was already dead.

She had been in a pretty good mood earlier. Now? Not so much.

Sitting on the little bed, she suddenly felt like her own frustration was meaningless.

Maybe I’m just… too righteous, she thought.