“Are you kidding me? Isn’t this just blatant bullying?” Grace Miller said angrily. I mean, even as a secretary, shouldn’t I at least have a decent desk? But here, my so-called desk is actually someone else’s “bed.”

“Stop complaining. No one expects you to stick around anyway. You should be grateful you even have a nameplate. Last time, someone didn’t even get a chair.”

Henry Clark was trying to comfort Grace Miller. He took off his shoes and socks, said nothing more, climbed onto the desk, and slipped into his sleeping bag.

“What are you doing?” Grace Miller asked, puzzled.

“It’s so late—of course I’m going to sleep. What else would I do?” Henry Clark replied, sounding especially relaxed.

“But aren’t we supposed to write a mission report after the task is done? That’s a National Security Bureau regulation, section—”

“Alright, alright, don’t recite the ‘textbook’ to me… Those stupid rules, I can’t even remember the first one.” Henry Clark turned over in frustration, presenting his backside to this upright “model public servant.” “If you want to write the report, go ahead. I don’t have the energy for such boring stuff.”

“How did you even become an investigator for the National Security Bureau?” Grace Miller gave Henry Clark a look of utter disdain, then helplessly walked over to an empty spot, turned on the computer, and started her “wrap-up work.”

And so, in the empty office, only the faint sound of a man’s snoring remained, accompanied by the rhythmic tapping of keys…

Thus the night passed, and dawn arrived in a world where no one cared. When that annoying sun rose, who knows how many office workers lying in bed cursed the universe—for it was the universe that gave birth to this glowing thing.

Of course, without the sun, Earth wouldn’t be so full of life. But those who work overtime every day, often without pay, and even when they get paid, have to deduct electricity bills—they don’t care about such deep issues. All they know is, when the sun rises, that damn miserable nine-to-five life descends upon them once again…

By comparison, the colleagues in the Paranormal Investigation Division should count as lucky, right? Living off government salaries, bearing the title of “public servant,” but before ten o’clock, don’t even think about seeing any of them.

Sure enough, the clock on the wall was stuck at 10:25 when the office door finally opened.

The first to enter was Bennett, looking quite energetic and refreshed. As usual, he covered his mouth and nose with a handkerchief and returned to his seat. The rest of the team followed, entering the workplace and beginning their leisurely office life…

“Ahhhhhhh!” Suddenly, just as Harvey reached his desk, he let out a scream like someone who’d lost his mind. The sound was so miserable that even the sleeping Henry Clark was startled awake.

When everyone’s eyes turned to Harvey’s spot, they saw a truly “terrifying” scene.

There was Grace Miller, lying sideways on a black computer keyboard, with the screen in front of her still flickering with the editing software.

“Who killed her?” Trent said gravely.

“Who cares who killed her—my keyboard!” Harvey anxiously yanked the keyboard out from under Grace Miller’s head. A huge amount of drool had already seeped into the keys. “Help! My Dell limited edition supreme keyboard—how am I supposed to use it now?!”

The commotion woke Grace Miller from her deep sleep. She opened her eyes to find a crowd gathered around her, feeling a bit flattered, honestly.

“Lady, why are you sleeping on my desk?!” Harvey’s hand holding the keyboard was trembling.

“I… I just wanted to write a report. My desk doesn’t even have a computer…” Grace Miller seemed startled, as if she’d done something wrong again.

“There are so many computers—why did you have to use mine?!” Harvey’s voice was almost sobbing. “Do you know how much this keyboard costs? There are only three in the world—one used by Dell’s president, one in Dell’s own product museum, and the last one you used as a pillow all night, now covered in your disgusting drool…”

The more Harvey spoke, the angrier he got, while Grace Miller’s eyes filled with tears once again.

Henry Clark quickly realized something was wrong. He jumped out of his sleeping bag, barefoot, rushed over to Harvey, and stood protectively in front of Grace Miller.

“Are you done yet? It’s just a damn keyboard! It’s waterproof, isn’t it? Just wash it and it’ll be fine. Is it worth scolding someone over? She was just working.”

Henry Clark’s reaction left everyone in the office dumbfounded—even the agitated Harvey stood there in a daze, staring at Henry Clark as if he were a monster.

“Did you take the wrong medicine today?” After Henry Clark finished, Harvey actually asked with concern.

Henry Clark just gave him a complicated look and said, “Bro, I just saved your life. You owe me a meal…”

“Alright, alright, enough. Henry Clark, is the case wrapped up?” Bennett, sitting not far away, finally spoke up.

The boss’s question naturally drew everyone’s attention back to Henry Clark. After all, his answer would decide whether they’d continue to enjoy the good life, or go home to eat sweet potatoes.