[Miguel Smith]: Beauty, you must be running in the Northwest’s underground circles. As I traveled along the Northwest line, your friends were everywhere to greet !
Before Miguel Smith set off, Nora Scott indeed inford so people that she had a friend visiting the Northwest for fun and asked them to take good care of him.
Seeing Miguel Smith’s reaction, Nora Scott had an inkling of how they "took care" of him.
With nothing better to do, Nora Scott chuckled and started chatting with him.
[Nora Scott]: I’m just well-connected.
[Miguel Smith]: People react to your na like they’ve seen a ghost, and you tell you’re well-connected?
[Nora Scott]: They’re just being polite.
[Miguel Smith]: ...
[Miguel Smith]: [Image]
[Miguel Smith]: Beauty, co on, tell how you ended up with this ’left with a hawk, right with a sky’, so cool it dazzles people, reportedly used as a bar’s treasure piece image?
A stream of ssages made Nora Scott take a closer look, and then she smiled slyly, clicking on the image.
The photo in the fra showed her with shoulder-length short hair, a black baseball cap sitting on her head, her face divided by light and shadow, her smile bright and lively. She wore a leather jacket on top, jeans below, and high-top hiking shoes, sitting on the hood of an SUV, with her right leg bent on the hood and her left leg stretched out.
On her shoulder rested a black eagle about to spread its wings, and at her feet was a large Tibetan mastiff. Behind her stretched a long highway and a vast desert.
The sunset glow added grandeur to the background, with the distant horizon blending into one line, and in the foreground, the SUV, the woman, the eagle, and the mastiff, all standing out brilliantly.
The protagonist is Nora Scott, but even she couldn’t deny it: very cool, very handso.
[Nora Scott]: Probably too good-looking, beca an amulet.
[Miguel Smith]: Keep so face for yourself?
[Nora Scott]: What’s another reason?
[Miguel Smith]: ...
Miguel Smith, pressed by his lack of Martial World knowledge, couldn’t co up with a reasonable explanation for a long ti and went silent.
Nora Scott twirled her phone in her fingers, thinking of sothing after a few loops, and continued to ssage Miguel Smith.
[Nora Scott]: Traffic jam, bored. Any ga recomndations?
[Nora Scott]: Not into competitive gas.
[Miguel Smith]: Maze ga, want to play?
[Nora Scott]: Sure, let’s play.
Unlike before, Miguel Smith didn’t directly tell her the ga na but sent her an installation package like Boss Alex did.
Ga na: "Black Hole".
[Miguel Smith]: It’s sothing a friend made alone, limited conditions, and the production is a bit rough, but the maze design is quite interesting, you might like it.
Out of boredom, Nora Scott didn’t mind the crudeness and quickly installed the ga.
As soon as she opened it, Nora Scott felt a rush of darkness and a cool, indifferent style hitting her, with a noticeable cheapness, but the atmosphere was skillfully crafted.
On hearing the ga’s background music, Pedro Langley, who was driving, glanced over, seeing her playing the ga, and then turned his eyes back.
With one hand on her cheek and the other on her phone, Nora Scott entered the ga, leisurely swiping the screen.
A mont later, a touch of interest added to Nora Scott’s lazy deanor as she pulled out a pair of Bluetooth earphones, putting them on with a calm yet slightly focused look in her eyes.
...
Like most people, Nora Scott played gas mainly to kill ti.
Nora Scott wasn’t keen on competitive gas and only played when friends lacked soone to fill up their team. She preferred casual and brain-engaging gas, mainly single-player. Regarding quality single-player gas in escape, puzzle, and level genres on the market, she had explored most of them.
Being quite similar in pattern, she had grown tired of them. Now, with sothing rather novel, Nora Scott surprisingly got absorbed into it.
Therefore, Pedro Langley, who was driving, listened to the ga’s music for nearly an hour, and just as they were about to reach Cloudwater Haven, the music suddenly stopped.
"Out of battery?" Pedro Langley asked casually.
"Completed."
"..."
What kind of ga could be completed in less than an hour?
Pedro Langley didn’t ask further.
Feeling a bit unsatisfied, Nora Scott reached out to Miguel Smith again, giving a fair evaluation of the ga.
The graphics were rough, and the music was monotonous, showing the challenge of solo production, but the ga’s level setups were quite interesting.
[Miguel Smith]: You cleared it already?
[Nora Scott]: Yeah.
[Miguel Smith]: [Impressed] You have a freakishly good mory.
[Miguel Smith]: We tested it; even frequent maze ga players typically need over five hours to clear it.
[Nora Scott]: Got more?
[Miguel Smith]: He’s working on "Black Hole 2," using multi-layered spatial mazes, said to have difficulty increasing geotrically, should be fun enough to play. However, he’s making it alone, so it’s going to take a while.
[Nora Scott]: Let know when it’s done.
[Miguel Smith]: Alright.
*
As soon as Nora Scott pushed the door open, she slled the fragrance of dishes.
Marcus Shaw walked out of the kitchen, holding the last bowl of soup.
Seeing Nora changing shoes at the entrance, he paused, glanced down at the apron tied around him, and sohow felt caught in an awkward mont, which quickly turned into displeasure, his expression sour.
"Dinner."
Grudgingly squeezing out two words, he turned his head away and placed the soup bowl on the dining table.
After washing her hands, Nora strolled over, her gaze sweeping across the table full of dishes, looking quite satisfied.
Before going out today, she specifically told Marcus Shaw what she didn’t like, from vegetables to ats, from pasta to offal, and even condints. Marcus Shaw was a bit frustrated when he heard all this, but he at least took note of all she abhorred. Not a single dish she disliked was on the table tonight.
Seeing her expression, Marcus Shaw found his feelings indescribable.
He thought Evelyn Easton was hard enough to please, yet here cos another Nora, and truly as a mother-daughter pair, they excel even more in the glorious mission of being picky eaters...
She should be made to eat coarse grain porridge and vegetables for a month, to truly understand what "hardship" ans.
"Have you grown taller?"
Standing to the side, Nora scrutinized Marcus Shaw for a mont, then abruptly asked.
Marcus Shaw was stunned, hearing this, he looked to Nora.
He was at the age of growth spurts, shooting up rapidly, with each day a different height, but he hadn’t paid attention to his exact height, only realizing it when buying new clothes each season.
With Nora’s reminder, Marcus Shaw suddenly realized that half a year ago at Evelyn Easton’s funeral, he could just look at Nora eye-to-eye, but now, he could look down at her.
Did she really notice this?
Unsure how to describe his current feelings, Marcus Shaw handed over the chopsticks, his tone cold but less harsh, "Growing every day."
Nora smiled a little.
The food seems to have fueled his growth in height, making his fra appear even slimr, so tall and thin, especially with the loose-fitting T-shirt he wore, making him look even more gaunt... it felt as if she had been treating him harshly.
So, after dinner, Nora took out her phone, walking towards the bedroom as she opened WeChat.
anwhile, Marcus Shaw, who was preparing to clean up the dishes, heard the phone vibrate, and a new ssage popped out.
[Nora]: [Red packet]
Marcus Shaw: "..."
A al ant a red packet, each amount maxed out. She spends money lavishly and never seems to do any real work. It’s unclear where her money cos from.
*
The window of the small study was open, allowing a cool breeze to sweep in, dispelling the stagnant, stifling air inside.
Nora sat on the sofa, using her good mory to log into Biel Hall’s internal system with her account and password.
As the Hall Master, her authority was high, yet she had never officially managed Biel Hall, and so internal docunts required her to actually "take charge" before she could access them.
But—
For families like the Scotts, accessing the information was more than sufficient.
Nora searched "Aaron Scott", and Aaron Scott’s life and career details unfolded before her eyes.
She browsed through them; they were not much different from what Pedro Langley had ntioned, just more detailed, with a clear introduction of his rise to power, but all of it was cold, factual presentations, without any elaboration or annotations.
After a long while.
Nora exhaled, finding an unknown number in her ssage records.
She didn’t have the habit of deleting ssage records; two months ago, Ernesto Scott had sent her a ssage, which she ignored but did not delete.
Now, it finally ca in handy.
She clicked on the number and dialed it.
After a couple of rings, it was answered.
"Nora?"
A probing and puzzled voice ca through the phone, cautious, with a hint of disbelief.
The elusive tone carried a sense of fantasy.
A blast of cold wind hit her back, Nora squinted slightly, her voice cool, "I want to co over and stay for a few days."
...
Hanging up the call.
Nora twirled her phone between her fingers, a weight of concentration on her brow, and after pondering for a mont, suddenly heard the WeChat ssage alert.
It was Kieran Shawn, the editor-in-chief of CC Comics.
[Kieran Shawn]: Boss, the contract has been received, your copy has been placed at Virtue Retreat.
[Kieran Shawn]: Tomorrow night at 8 PM, we’ll announce your entry into CC Comics. Does this work for you?
In the storyboard she took to show Henry Chapman, there were a total of five Chapters. What Nora had to do was deliver a dramatic blow to "First Ruins" before its sixth Chapter with the content of her new work.
To avoid falling too far behind "First Ruins", after discussing with Kieran Shawn, it was decided that "Base No. 9" would be released on CC Comics this Friday.
However, she didn’t expect Kieran Shawn to act so swiftly, resolving everything related to the contract within a day.
Nora curved her lips.
Her fingers tapping on the screen, she replied.
[Z,]: Alright.
Aaron Scott’s drawings needed to be checked.
Sophie Scott’s matter also had to be resolved.
Winter was not over yet, she had all the ti in the world now.
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