Henry Lincoln placed the book in his hand by his side and didn’t reply immediately, appearing even more uneasy.

“You don’t want to?” Charles Griffin asked with a smile.

“I do, of course I do. Thank you.”

“A simple thank you isn’t what I want, and you should know that joining the organization requires you to go through a test.”

“Of course, I’m ready and can take the test at any time.”

Charles Griffin said nothing.

“You mean right now?” Henry Lincoln asked in surprise.

Charles Griffin turned his gaze to Miss Bennett in the distance, stared for a moment, and said, “She’s a first-class person. If she were an ordinary person, I think I’d love her for a lifetime. Unfortunately, she’s a spy from the other faction.”

Henry Lincoln’s surprise turned to terror.

“The door to the spies is sealed by magic, and only blood can open it.” The mischievous look on Charles Griffin’s handsome face became even more pronounced. He was actually smiling, as if what he was about to do was a prank a child would play. “This is your test.”

“Are you sure she’s a spy?”

“The question isn’t whether I can be sure, the question is whether you can trust and obey my orders. That’s the basic requirement in our line of work.” Charles Griffin added a hint of reassurance to his tone, patient yet leaving no room for doubt.

Henry Lincoln was silent for a while, glanced at Grace Bennett in the distance—she was laughing uncontrollably at “Monkey’s” antics.

He shook his head, just as resolute.

Charles Griffin also waited a moment, didn’t try to persuade further, nor did he force him. He patted Henry Lincoln on the shoulder and said, “You…” Then he raised his other arm and snapped his fingers, as if signaling to a waiter in the distance.

“Monkey” got the signal and, with one push, sent the still-laughing Grace Bennett into the river.

Chapter Three: Interstellar Orphans

Interstellar orphans are a special group, and have existed for a long time.

The destruction of Earth happened very suddenly; only a handful of humans escaped, scattered across the major planets, all busy saving themselves, with no time to care for others. It wasn’t until more than half a century later that people remembered there might be others surviving on distant alien worlds, and so began the effort to rebuild the interstellar transportation system.

Interstellar travel was extremely costly, and for a long time couldn’t return to its former glory. Spaceships were few, and could carry little cargo. As for passengers, they were selected with the utmost care—only the most essential people could board, and their numbers were negligible.

If things continued this way, the interstellar transportation system would eventually collapse again, and the major planets would each go their own way, developing independently. Some made very pessimistic predictions, believing that humanity would thus embark on entirely different evolutionary paths, eventually becoming completely different species.

At the same time, humanity faced another problem: the panic caused by Earth’s destruction lingered, and people’s willingness to have children was extremely low, so the population could not increase.

After many rounds of discussion, someone proposed a plan to solve both problems at once.

Interstellar orphans appeared. They were artificial embryos, sent by spaceship to other planets. This had multiple benefits: children and their biological parents would almost never meet again, avoiding many moral dilemmas; population movement would prevent reproductive isolation; it gave interstellar travel a necessary reason to exist, and the requirements for spaceships were low—just a small corner could transport tens of thousands of embryos.

Decades later, humanity’s panic gradually faded, birth rates began to rise, and interstellar travel developed greatly, bringing more economic benefits and even restoring some passenger transport functions.

The problem no longer existed, but the interstellar orphan system was not abolished.

On one hand, a large number of people had become accustomed to being “hands-off parents”—having children was like paying taxes: once done, it was no longer their concern. Although this practice and mindset were highly controversial, it had become a real social custom.

On the other hand, the major planets developed unevenly, gradually forming a hierarchy. Sending interstellar orphans became a symbol of status: the more powerful planets sent out the most orphans and received the fewest.

In short, this system became a legacy issue that everyone avoided.

For the interstellar orphans themselves, the problem wasn’t so complicated. Like ordinary people, they had to prioritize the issues around them—what kind of job to do, what friends to make, where to have fun…

And when an interstellar orphan became a corpse, there were even fewer problems.

Grace BennettMiss Bennett sank to the bottom of the water and floated up again. The “Monkey” who pushed her in called the police as per the rules. When the police arrived, he calmly recounted the events, blaming it on the carelessness of an outsider: “She wanted to see the fish in the river, but lost her balance, right here. I reached out, but just missed grabbing her…”

Henry Lincoln didn’t see any of this; Charles Griffin had sent him away.

“What a pity. If you don’t trust your own family, how can you expect the family to trust you? It’s a two-way street. Go home and think it over. Maybe there will be another chance in the future, maybe.”

Charles Griffin’s tone wasn’t harsh—one could even call it gentle, or perhaps he simply didn’t care at all. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have brought “Monkey” as a backup plan.

“Monkey’s” real name was Samuel Lincoln, but his companions all called him “Yezi.” He was also an interstellar orphan adopted by the Mei family, and had been Charles Griffin’s follower since childhood, obeying his every word.