"I understand." The middle-aged man sighed. "It's only mid-year, and there's still more than half the budget left. I'll double it for you, okay?"

The call went through.

Evelyn Allen spoke directly: "Special Affairs Division, fifteen minutes, OK?"

Soon, the call ended.

Fifteen minutes later, someone was brought in by the guards. It was obvious he had been here before; he greeted Evelyn Allen familiarly, "Ms. Ai, long time no see. Why don't you ever come by my place?"

"Too dirty."

Evelyn Allen expressionlessly shoved a file over, pointing at the boy behind the one-way mirror who was sprawled on the table shouting about exposing things on Weibo. "Make him talk. Can you do it?"

"Piece of cake."

The visitor grinned, flipped his hair, and pushed the door open to enter.

But when he saw Henry Parker's face, he froze.

Henry Parker was stunned as well.

"Wait, why is it you?"

He stared in astonishment at the man at the door—the top host who once taught him about the rules—and shouted out in grief and indignation, "I get it now, you bastards are all in this together! And you said you don't hire hosts here! I just haven't sold myself, is that so bad?"

In the awkward, dead silence, only the boy's anguished roar could be heard:

"—You're trying to force a good man into prostitution!!!"

Chapter 5 Oh-hoo

Behind the one-way mirror, in the midst of the awkward silence, everyone in the Special Affairs Division couldn't help but touch the guns at their waists, wanting to silence that disgrace before the news could spread.

Only Evelyn Allen remained calm, simply picking up her coffee for a sip, then pulling a pair of heavy sunglasses from the side pocket of her wheelchair and putting them on.

"Continue."

She said.

The middle-aged man hesitated for a moment, sighed, and gave the order through the microphone on the table: "Continue."

It took quite a while for the top host to recover from such an awkward encounter. He flipped the hair hanging in front of his eyes, smiled warmly, and reached out his hand:

"Hey, little brother, nice to meet you. My name is Dylan Lane..."

"Bullshit! Who wants to know you!"

Henry Parker was furious. Now he finally realized what was going on. With his cuffed hand, he pointed at Dylan Lane and shouted toward the door, "Comrade officer, I want to report this man for illegal activities—he's basically the king of hosts... Don't let him fool you!"

"......"

Dylan Lane sighed helplessly, then suddenly raised a finger and held it in front of Henry Parker: "Look at my finger."

"No way!"

Even Henry Parker wasn't that dumb—he knew something was off and refused to fall into his trap. He lifted his head, but accidentally... looked at his face.

That fair skin and slender neck, those eyes deep as the ocean, a few golden strands hidden among his long hair like starlight in the universe, some locks falling across his brow, shading eyes as cold as winter stars, a high, straight nose radiating masculine beauty...

"Oh-hoo!"

For a moment, Henry Parker was utterly entranced, though for some reason, he suddenly felt nauseous.

He silently berated himself—how could he be so ugly just because he saw someone better looking than himself? With a livid face, he forced out a smile, but drool leaked from the corner of his mouth...

He was instantly reduced to a daze.

He grabbed Dylan Lane's delicate hand and wouldn't let go, fawningly saying, "Big bro, where do you work? Ah, sorry for being so rude last time. Let me introduce myself—I'm Henry Parker, seventeen this year. You remember me, right?"

"......"

At this moment, not only Henry Parker, but everyone behind the one-way mirror who saw Dylan Lane couldn't help but let out an "oh-hoo." Even the always serious middle-aged man blushed, his heart fluttered, and he turned away to cough quietly.

Only Evelyn Allen, wearing oversized sunglasses, remained as calm as ever, sipping her coffee. She pressed the intercom button: "I didn't call you here to flirt. Tone down your soul radiation and get to work."

"Alright, alright."

Dylan Lane pushed up the black-rimmed glasses on his nose, sat across from Henry Parker, his smile gentle as autumn water, and asked, "Little brother, now that we know each other, can you answer a few questions for me?"

"Sure, sure."

Henry Parker clung to his hand, drooling, looking completely dazed: "Big bro, I'll tell you anything you want. My bank card password is 18191..."

"Ahem, that's not necessary."

Dylan Lane quickly waved his hand, then opened the file in his hand and cleared his throat: "Where were you last night?"

"At home, sleeping. Had a bunch of nightmares, scared me to death. Let me tell you..."

"Just sleeping?" Dylan Lane wasn't interested in his nightmares and interrupted.

"Yeah."

Henry Parker nodded. "Who would go out in the middle of the night for no reason? Besides, it was pouring rain last night. You'd have to be crazy to go out. I'm telling you, our house may be a bit shabby, but at least our ancestors..."

"Ahem, next question." Dylan Lane interrupted him again. "What exactly was in the box you sent to the police station?"