Am I a Kamen Rider or the real young master who was switched at birth?

The Academic Affairs Office is located at the far end of the first floor of this administration building. Unlike the gleaming offices upstairs, the corridor lights here are noticeably dimmer, and the paint on the walls is quite old, with a faint yellow tinge near the ceiling.

He raised his hand and knocked on the door frame, the wood making a dull, crisp sound.

Then a slightly nasal voice came from inside: "Come in."

Ye Yang pushed open the door and saw an old man sitting behind a desk.

That desk was a size bigger than Director Zhou's desk, but it was also piled with more things.

In the middle of the table, several stacks of yellowed student files were piled up crookedly, with a few pens scattered around them.

An enamel teacup sat on the corner of the table, with the words "Commemorating the Founding of the First Federal Military Academy" printed on its surface, the words blurred by tea stains.

The old man looked to be in his early sixties. His hair was gray but very thick, and he casually gathered it at the back of his head.

He was wearing a dark blue work uniform that had faded slightly from washing, and the edges of his white shirt, which was turned up at the collar, were frayed.

He was holding a newspaper in front of him, and the page was turned to today's campus news.

Ye Yang walked to the desk and said politely, "Hello teacher, do you have any information about a teacher named Wang Xiaoming here?"

The old man did not answer immediately. He slowly took the newspaper down from in front of him, revealing a round face wearing reading glasses.

His lenses were very thick, making his eyes appear larger and a little blurry.

He looked at Ye Yang, raised an eyebrow, then tilted his head slightly and asked in an extremely serious tone, "Wang something Ming?"

Ye Yang paused for a moment, then repeated clearly, "Wang Xiaoming."

The old man pushed his reading glasses up his nose, then squinted, leaned forward, and continued to ask earnestly, "What Xiaoming?"

Ye Yang took a deep breath. He felt his right eyelid twitch slightly, but he still smiled and repeated, "Wang—Xiao—Ming—Wang Xiaoming."

The old man nodded thoughtfully, then pushed his reading glasses up further and asked again with an extremely serious expression, "Wang—Xiao—what?"

The air was silent for several seconds. Ye Yang felt his right eyelid twitch again.

He stood in front of the desk, his polite smile frozen for a few seconds.

The old man's lips were twitching very slightly, and his eyes behind his reading glasses were flashing a mischievous light.

He suddenly remembered a movie he had seen on Earth a long, long time ago, in which the protagonist, Shen Teng, asked for directions and was bothered by a hard-of-hearing old man for several minutes.

He never imagined that one day he would become the protagonist of this skit.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them again, and said with a calm, resigned tone, "Alright, sir, I'll figure it out myself. You go ahead with your newspaper, I won't bother you any longer."

Just as he was about to turn around, the old man suddenly and quickly stretched out a hand from behind the newspaper.

"Oh, just kidding, just kidding. Look at you, you're so easily teased. It's been a long time since I've met such a polite student, I couldn't help myself."

The old man folded the newspaper and placed it on the corner of the table. Then he took off his reading glasses, held them in his hand, and gave a kind smile: "But I've never seen you before. Are you a new transfer student? Or are you here for the open day?"

Ye Yang turned back to face the old man. He composed himself and explained again in that polite and patient tone:

"Teacher, I'm not a student here. I came to the school on business, but I saw a familiar name in the corridor, so I wanted to look up his information."

The old man put his glasses back on, took a fountain pen from the pen holder—its cap dented and worn—twirled it between his fingers, and then nodded, saying:

"Oh, I see—let me take a look. Our school's faculty and staff roster is updated very frequently; everyone's file is here with me, from their enrollment to retirement, not a single page is missing."

He bent down and pulled out a booklet as thick as an encyclopedia from the cabinet under his desk.

The dark blue hardcover booklet had the words "List of Faculty and Staff of the First Federal Military Academy" embossed in gold on its cover.

The edges of the book were worn white, and it was about the width of a fist.

He placed the booklet on the table with a dull thud.

Then he turned to the first page. His fingers then began to turn the pages at a speed completely out of character for his age—a speed Ye Yang had only ever seen in the replay of his own Kabuto King Rise.

The pages flipped rapidly between his fingers like pages of a book being blown by the wind, from the first page to the last in just a few seconds.

He could even adjust his glasses while turning pages, then precisely stop on a particular page and tap a spot on it with his finger.

"Found him—Teacher Wang Xiaoming. He's a new Super A-level teacher who arrived today. His office is on the third floor of the administration building. His information was just entered this morning; the ink isn't even dry yet."

The old man turned the roster over for Ye Yang to glance at, and then quickly turned it back.

Ye Yang only had time to see that there were indeed three words "Wang Xiaoming" on the page, and a very fine note next to it, but before he could see what the note said, the old man closed the booklet.

"Yes, that's him. Do you know when he's free today? I'd like to talk to him in person."

The old man slowly took off his reading glasses, then gently tapped the table with the temple of the glasses, and said in a mysterious tone:

"He has something to do today. As for what he's doing—that's confidential."

A slight crack appeared in Ye Yang's polite smile, but he still asked, "So—approximately how long will it take him to finish?"

The old man put his reading glasses back on, placed his hands folded on the thick roster, and smiled slightly at Ye Yang: "This—is also confidential."

Looking at the old man's kind yet mischievous face, Ye Yang finally gave up completely.

He took a step back, bowed slightly, and said, "Alright, I'll be going then. Thank you."

The old man waved to him, then picked up the newspaper again, unfolded it, and held it in front of his face, saying in a slow, leisurely tone, "Goodbye, young man."

When Ye Yang came out of the Academic Affairs Office, he felt that he had been tormented by that old man for quite a while, but when he thought about it carefully, he felt that the old man was quite cute.

He leaned against the corridor wall, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, silently summarizing the lessons he had learned from dealing with all the teachers that day.

Just then, a series of hurried footsteps came from the other end of the corridor.

The three Lin sisters came out from the stairwell, with Lin Xingran walking in front, carrying a cup of milk tea she had just brought from the cafeteria.

Seeing Ye Yang leaning against the wall in a daze, she quickly walked over and asked, "How is it? How is it? Any news about that teacher Wang Xiaoming? What did the teachers in the academic affairs office say to you? Is he in his office now? Have you seen him in person?"

Ye Yang shook his head and briefly recounted what had just happened in the Academic Affairs Office.

Lin Yumin stood to the side, scratching her chin with her finger. Her gaze drifted across the corridor window towards the administration building, and she said thoughtfully:

"Confidential? The schedule of an ordinary teacher needs to be classified as 'confidential'. There are indeed many secrets in the Federal First Military Academy, but this is the first time I can recall that a teacher's personal schedule has been classified as confidential."

"This teacher Wang Xiaoming is indeed extraordinary—his office is on the third floor of the administration building, he has a super A-level teacher title, and his itinerary is kept confidential—all of these combined suggest that his purpose in coming to this school is likely not just teaching."

Just then, Ye Yang's senses were gently touched by something.

He subconsciously tilted his head towards the corridor next to him, and then his whole body tensed up instantly.

At the other end of the corridor, a tall, slender figure leaned against the wall next to the academic affairs office.

The man was wearing a dark blue shirt, with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a piece of sticky note that had been torn from somewhere.

Ye Yang narrowed his eyes slightly, and then he quickly walked in that direction.

His pace quickened, his leather shoes making a crisp, rhythmic sound on the corridor floor, and the hem of his shirt fluttering gently in the air.

Even when he was still several steps away from the person, his voice rang out first: "Haidong Daiki? Is that you?!"

Upon hearing his name called, Hai Dong looked up from the notepad and turned to look at Ye Yang. Then he gave a faint smile, his eyes filled with an inscrutable mischievousness.

He folded the note and stuffed it into his pocket, then raised his free hand and casually waved at Ye Yang, greeting him lazily:

"Oh—isn't this Shi's little fanboy? What a coincidence! Aren't you supposed to have a performance today? What are you doing at the administration office? Lost? Or are you looking for me?"

The three Lin sisters exchanged glances and quickened their pace to catch up.