“What’s wrong?”
Sheriff Dyson had caught the hint of something unusual in Su Fan’s laugh over the phone.
“Nothing. I just thought of something funny.”
“Something funny?”
Dyson asked reflexively.
“You’ll find out in a little while.”
A faint, teasing smile tugged at the corner of Su Fan’s mouth.
“For now, keep investigating. But if you find any ties to interest groups, high-ranking officials, or big-money conglomerates, don’t tip them off just yet. Wait and see—things might take a turn soon.”
“Got it.”
The detective agreed, and they ended the call.
Su Fan’s gaze returned to the book in his hands, but he didn’t retract his spiritual sense.
Out on the busy sidewalk, a slender figure was making her way toward the antique shop. Her style of dress was quite different from before, but Su Fan recognized her at a glance.
She was one of the members of that strange family he’d seen at the hospital that day—the woman who’d been walking at the back, chatting and laughing with a young Black man.
The subtle premonition he’d felt earlier had come from her.
She wasn’t glancing around as she walked; her eyes were fixed straight ahead, clearly heading toward a set destination. And where else could that be but Su Fan’s antique shop?
——
“Su Fan, born in 1980, age twenty-three…”
On the road, Ruth silently recited her target’s information once more in her mind.
“Of Chinese descent, orphaned, adopted by an immigrant from China.”
“After the old man passed away, he inherited the antique shop and has been running it ever since.”
“Not very social, enjoys tea, and has close ties with a patrol officer and a detective from the local precinct.”
“Quite famous in exorcism and spiritualist circles—most practitioners in the Los Angeles area have heard of him.”
“…”
The moment she’d received the dossier, Ruth had studied it carefully, several times over.
Based on the details, she’d sketched out a rough profile of his personality in her mind.
The most important part of seducing a man was discerning his character from his experiences and habits—and from there, finding his weak points. If you could strike precisely at the softest part of his heart, you could make him fall for you fast.
People who grew up without parental love often had deep-seated personality flaws. Insecure at their core, they were easy targets for bullies and cliques at school. Add to that the well-known docility of East Asians, and his lack of socializing made perfect sense.
That he’d inherited the shop after the old man’s death and kept it going even through tough times suggested he was sentimental and deeply attached to people.
His love for tea showed he missed his late grandfather and had been heavily influenced by him. Even after living in the U.S. for so many years, he still maintained Eastern habits—proof of an almost obsessive fondness for Chinese culture.
Bit by bit, the image took shape in her mind: a gentle, slightly socially anxious, psychically gifted young man—a quintessential East Asian personality.
Guys like that, she figured, were usually put off by the warmth and openness of mainstream young Western women, looking down on their superficiality and their easygoing attitudes toward sex…
Overly bold dressing would likely scare him off, so she needed to project a harmless, approachable vibe.
With that in mind, Ruth checked her reflection in a storefront window.
She’d gone with a conservative white dress and a pair of artsy black-rimmed glasses. Light, natural makeup, paired with the demure, practiced smile she’d perfected at the corners of her mouth.
It was the perfect image: fragile, reserved, the quintessential innocent, bookish young woman.
Her appearance was flawless. The key now was the opening conversation—and she already had a perfect script ready in her head.
Before long, she stopped in front of the quaint antique shop, pushed open the door, and stepped inside.
The warm, well-placed lighting and the thoughtful arrangement of the antiques only reinforced her earlier assumptions. Everything fitting her expectations boosted her confidence considerably.
At the front counter, the young man—exactly like his photo—was flipping through a book. He looked up at her arrival and offered a standard, professional smile.
“Welcome.”
He rose from behind the counter and walked out.
“Are you here to make a purchase, or to schedule an appraisal?”
“Neither.”
Ruth took a deep breath, letting just a hint of hesitation and anxiety show in her eyes.
After countless “hunts,” every expression and glance she made came naturally, flawlessly—more polished than many actors on the big screen.
“I…”
Her hesitation, the way she seemed to struggle with her words—the young man across from her immediately caught on.
“You’re here about an exorcism, right?”
“…Yes. I’ve consulted other mediums before, but for various reasons, they couldn’t help.”
“In the end, they all recommended you, so I came here…”
At that, Ruth put on that classic fragile expression—like a delicate white flower—as though she were overcoming her own fears while searching for the right words.
In truth, she’d rehearsed this spiel so many times in her head that it was second nature.
Her first idea had been to pose as a wealthy young heiress dealing in Chinese antiques, approaching Su Fan under the guise of a business transaction. After all, the target was clearly devoted to his antique business—even though he could make money through exorcism, he wouldn’t give up the shop.
But she’d quickly scrapped that plan.
Time was too tight. She couldn’t possibly learn basic Chinese while also diving deep into Chinese history, culture, and antique expertise. The deeper things went, the more likely she’d slip up.
Compared to that, the role of an innocent client plagued by a malevolent spirit was much easier—and much more likely to earn his sympathy and trigger his protective instincts.
Ruth was just working up a few tears to continue her performance when a board was shoved in front of her face.
“All the details about exorcism services are written on this board. Please take a look.”
The young man didn’t act the gentleman and comfort her as she’d expected. Instead, he handed her a price list.
But that was fine.
The exorcism was fake, but she had to commit to the act. Ruth took the board and scanned it carefully.
[Exorcism tools sold in this shop are talismans, priced per sheet. All sales are final—no refunds or exchanges.]
She didn’t know what talismans were, but from the unit “per sheet,” she guessed they were pieces of paper imbued with some kind of supernatural power.
[Protection Talisman: $5,000 (strikethrough) → $20,000]
[Mind-Clearing Talisman: $5,000 (strikethrough) → $20,000]
[Demon-Repelling Talisman: $6,000 (strikethrough) → $24,000]
[Home-Protecting Talisman: $7,000 (strikethrough) → $28,000]
[Five-Thunder Talisman: $10,000 (strikethrough) → $40,000 (strikethrough) → $80,000]
[Commissioned exorcism by owner: starting at $120,000—price varies by case, no upper limit.]
After reading that, even Ruth—with all her acting composure—felt her eyelid twitch.
A few sheets of paper for tens of thousands of dollars? Why don’t you just rob me outright?!
Normally, the crossed-out prices were the ones that got lowered. Here, every single one had gone up—and the last one had been raised twice!
Ruth had originally planned to buy a few dozen talismans upfront to win some goodwill, but now it seemed she’d have to think twice about her current budget.
“What do you think? Can you accept these prices?”
Catching the hint of anticipation in Su Fan’s voice, Ruth put on a hesitant look.
“Are these things really effective?”
“Of course they are. You won’t lose out—this shop has a stellar reputation in the exorcism world.”
“Then… then give me ten Protection Talismans for now… But I don’t have that much cash on me—only a credit card.”
Ruth looked uncertain on the surface, but inwardly, she was already sneering.
This little shop doesn’t even have a decent computer. How could it possibly—
“That’s fine.”
Right in front of her, Su Fan pulled out a card reader and placed it on the counter, sliding it toward her with an amiable smile.
“Go ahead.”
Ruth nodded, kept her expression steady, and paid with her credit card.
The moment she saw twenty thousand dollars vanish from her account, she felt her heart bleed.
But she quickly pulled herself together.
Once I succeed, no matter how much he’s taken from me, he’ll have to give it all back.
With such a massive sunk cost, this “hunt” had to succeed—failure was not an option.
“Are there any precautions I should take with the talismans?”
“None at all. Just wear them on your person. You can keep them on while showering or using the restroom—twenty-four-seven full protection. Guaranteed to keep evil spirits at bay.”
“That’s good to hear.”
Ruth let out a “relieved” sigh and lightly patted her chest, casually revealing a hint of pale skin at her collar.
But just then, a voice came from the doorway.
“Su, I’m back—do you have a customer?”
The voice was low and husky, carrying an indescribable sensuality.
Ruth turned instinctively and saw a tall, fair-skinned woman with long legs stride in—she had to be at least five-foot-seven. Her striking ice-blue eyes were mesmerizing, almost otherworldly in their beauty. Her jawline and neck were elegantly defined, and below that was a figure that would make anyone’s heart skip—full in all the right places, with a slender waist to match.
It was the kind of physique that was the stuff of male fantasy.
“Yeah, just a small matter. How did the surgery go?”
“Flawlessly. Looks like my skills and theoretical knowledge haven’t gotten rusty at all.”
Rowan flashed a genuinely happy smile. Compared to being a glorified signature-machine back in her family, she definitely preferred the operating room.
The two chatted so naturally that it was clear they had a good rapport.
Ruth glanced down at her own modest figure and outfit, and suddenly realized her intel was far from complete.
At the same time, she was struck by an eternal truth.
Cuteness and frailty were nothing before pure, unadulterated sexiness.
