Emily Warren took off her little suit, unbuttoning her shirt down to her chest, the water-pink lace trim of her bra adorning those twin peaks like petals.

Wearing black stockings with rose patterns, Emily Warren slipped off her high heels and sat on the edge of the boss’s desk, pouring herself a glass of rich red wine.

“Good boy, aren’t you going to come over and have a drink with your godmother?” Emily Warren’s alluring smile was more intoxicating than the wine.

“Godmother, didn’t you just say you hadn’t accepted me as your godson? You sure changed your tune fast, huh?” Jason Grant took off his trench coat and sat down in the chair in front of the desk.

“Good boy, you really hold a grudge, don’t you? Didn’t we agree? When there are outsiders, I’m Emily Warren, and you’re a temp. When there’s no one else, I’m your godmother, and you’re my good boy. A game is a game, and you have to follow the rules.” As Emily Warren spoke, she handed a glass of red wine to Jason Grant, but her long legs wrapped in rose-patterned black stockings were already resting on Jason Grant’s thigh.

“I don’t want to play this game anymore. I always try my best, but in the end, I find out I can’t even compare to people who just mess around. I started working here at eighteen, been at it for eight years, nearly died so many times I’ve lost count. The guys who started the same year as me—every one of them who’s still alive is already a senior investigator, but me? I haven’t even managed to get a permanent position. Every year you guys throw some stupid English test at me to trip me up. Damn it, what’s the point of needing a CET-4 English certificate to catch ghosts? I haven’t met a single foreign ghost to this day!” With wine in his hand and a beautiful foot in his lap, Jason Grant didn’t feel a bit of pleasure. He downed the drink in one gulp, his stomach full of disgust.

“Rules are rules, I can’t change them either. I’ve told you before, take some time to go to an English class. Grammar really isn’t that hard.” Emily Warren had worried plenty about her godson.

“You’re talking to me about rules? Last time I cracked a big case, nearly lost my life, and what did the chief promise me at my bedside? Said this year I’d definitely become a permanent employee, a dedicated post, special treatment, one temp, one permanent spot, no exam, direct promotion at year’s end. And what happened? That old bastard was full of shit. Now he’s hiring more temps, and this time it’s a straight-A student—obviously trying to screw me over!” Jason Grant slammed his glass down on the table.

“Don’t get worked up. The temp hiring thing happened suddenly, even the chief said he didn’t expect it. But you know, he believes in fate more than anyone. Meeting Grace Lincoln wasn’t a coincidence, it’s all destiny. The chief just wants to know—what kind of fate do you really have?” As Emily Warren spoke, she suddenly sat in Jason Grant’s lap, pressing her K-cup chest against his.

“That old guy’s been trying to figure it out for eight years and still hasn’t. He thinks throwing a girl at me will change things? Temp or fate, he can arrange whoever he wants around me, I don’t care. Pass a message to that old man for me: none of my partners have survived more than half a year. If that clueless girl makes it a month, she’s lucky.” Ignoring Emily Warren sitting on him, Jason Grant stood up forcefully.

“Leaving so soon? We haven’t even ‘done our homework’ yet today.” Emily Warren looked at Jason Grant seductively, biting her wine glass and pouting.

“Sorry, your son’s ‘pen’ is out of ink. Godmother, you’ll have to ‘study’ on your own.” Jason Grant picked up his trench coat from the sofa, pushed open the door, and left, leaving the beauty with her legs spread, sitting on the boss’s desk.

“A fate even the chief can’t figure out… Do you really have something like destiny?” Pulling open the closed blinds, the flush on Emily Warren’s face faded instantly. After crossing her legs, she was once again the cold, elegant supervisor.

That’s how it was: Emily Warren spent ten minutes convincing a girl who was afraid of ghosts to willingly take a job catching them. Jason Grant, on the other hand, had no idea how long it would take him to accept the fact that he had a new partner.

“Girl, aren’t you afraid of dying?” Jason Grant asked Grace Lincoln in confusion.

“Manager Warren said I won’t die, because you’re their best temp. You handle all the real ghost-catching work. My main job is to investigate cases and write reports. I think I can handle that.” Grace Lincoln said, summoning her courage.

“You actually believe that kind of crap?” Jason Grant couldn’t help but laugh. “Even I can’t guarantee I’ll survive every day. How am I supposed to be responsible for your life? No matter what conditions or promises Emily Warren gave you, I can tell you very responsibly: if you follow me, you won’t last a month.”

“You don’t understand. This is my war. For what I hope for, I have to give it my all. I know ghosts are scary, and I know you’re a good person—you wouldn’t just watch me die. Otherwise, that night when I kicked you in the balls, you wouldn’t have chased after me to save me. So, I have to keep going.” Grace Lincoln clenched her fists, looking ready to face death, though she had no idea what awaited her.

“A lot of people died here thinking they just didn’t try hard enough. What they didn’t realize was, they were just stubbornly courting death.” Jason Grant popped a candy into his mouth and walked toward the elevator. “Come on, I’ll take you to get onboarded.”

And that tall, beautiful girl followed resolutely behind Jason Grant.