Unable to repay my student loans, I had no choice but to work part-time as a demon hunter.

Gordon coughed, preparing to impart some common sense about society.

"Miss Charlotte," he said, "do you know what other uses the mansion has besides socializing?"

"Other uses?" Charlotte asked curiously.

"For example, dealers are not only responsible for dealing cards, sofas are not only for sitting, and women don't necessarily learn piano to cultivate their character. Including those actresses in this city, they sing and act on stage, but what do they do backstage? I think you can deduce it yourself..." Gordon explained in detail.

Charlotte was initially bewildered, then jumped up and down on the spot.

"Gordon!" She had expected a little rascal, but she hadn't expected him to be this bad.

"See, you told me I wouldn't hide anything from you. Now I'll tell you things that no one else dares to tell you," Gordon said.

"The thing I should spend the most money on is a needle and thread to sew your mouth shut." Charlotte gave Gordon's arm a light pinch.

"So," Gordon said, "I guess Green Shade Mansion does indeed have salons, concerts, and card games during the day, and casinos, private rooms, and all sorts of things you shouldn't know about at night."

"Maybe," Charlotte tried to sound calm. "Their floor collapsed before, and a few guests fell into the casino below with tables, causing a commotion for a while. It's only been fixed now."

"Even if it hadn't collapsed, it wouldn't be suitable for us to go there," Gordon concluded.

"I'm 20 years old, what place can't I go? It's just a casino."

  

"That's the age when it's easiest to think you know everything," Gordon said. "You see, you have no idea what a dealer can do besides dealing cards."

Charlotte bumped her head into Gordon's shoulder.

The two walked through Boshi Square. The warm April breeze blew across the stone pavement, and a flock of pigeons stood by the fountain.

"Anyway," Charlotte said, getting back to the point, "she is the heir to a large estate in the Brendel family, with many properties, bonds, and company shares. She also has all sorts of collections that nobody can even describe."

"Ah. In charge of laundering money for the fishmen," Gordon said.

"Why is it always 'fishman, fishman'?"

"We've been dealing with far too many murlocs lately."

"See, this is the rumor." Charlotte rolled her eyes at Gordon. "She's a kind-hearted person, very friendly to singers and servants, especially good at taking care of young girls. Many desperate girls go to Green Shade Mansion and are well taken care of. Some say she personally feeds medicine to sick maids, just like a mother."

"Who leaked this detail?"

"..." Charlotte thought for a moment and found it difficult to distinguish between the real and the fake.

"Okay," Gordon concluded, "I'll assume for now that she's genuinely interested, rather than trying to improve their operational efficiency."

"snort."

Gordon thought for a moment.

If Charlotte's words are true, this Olivia has already established her own reputation for good, her own businesses, and an intelligence network.

As for whether she has any connection with that underwater kingdom, Gordon currently has no evidence.

The two went to the lecture hall on the third floor for an anatomy class.

The tiered seating gradually rises, with a dissection table placed in front of it. The tabletop has grooves, and small buckets for collecting blood are placed underneath.

A white cloth covered the platform, covering a creature as big as an ox, with a charred claw sticking out from its tail end.

[A white cloth. As long as humans can't see it, they'll perceive no danger.]

"Ugh, how terrifying." Charlotte looked at the claw. "Another hands-on dissection."

"Don't worry," Gordon reassured him, "This time it's not the White Rat Monster, so I doubt anything will explode on the professor."

"It was just an accident last time," Charlotte said.

"Would the professor's coat accept this explanation?"

"Gordon".

"I'll shut up."

"Stop talking to pretty girls, come here." Peter beckoned.

Gordon then turned over the white cloth.

He saw a Logris mastiff with all its fur gone, its skin blackened by soot, and its head riddled with bullet holes.

The strangest thing is its thorax, which is very large, as if it has been forcibly pushed open by high-pressure steam.

[Big dog. Big dog.]

"Like a rabid demon." Gordon had seen the anatomy guide for demons.

"Oh, you actually know that." Peter had prepared to explain, but he didn't expect Gordon to know so much. How could this be?

"But I don't know where it came from. It couldn't have been you who called it back," Gordon said.

"See for yourself." Peter handed him the register. "Besides, if I get serious, I can beat the Otherworldly Demons."

"I believe you, but when you say 'get serious,' I feel like I'll never see it in my lifetime." Gordon flipped through the records.

The body came from a gas company in the West End.

In the past two weeks, it has carried away four workers who were leaving get off work late at night, plus a boiler operator. The factory had to hire a source hunter to kill it with a set of silver halide bullets.

Logically, the matter should have ended there.

The biggest controversy is that the insurance company insists on classifying the incident as a stray dog ​​attack, and judging by its appearance, it was indeed a large dog, at most a bit dark-skinned.

The compensation for a stray dog ​​attack is 10 gold pounds.

If a demon harms someone, it can trigger a 200 gold pound insurance policy.

Therefore, whether the five families can receive compensation, whether the five widows will hang themselves, and whether the five children can go to school depends half on the factory owner's conscience and half on the final assessment report issued by the Royal Academy of Sciences.

Of course, if the report says it's a dog, the factory owner's conscience will be eaten by the dog.

"The one in the illustration looks more like a dog, but this one... its chest is a bit swollen, and its skin is too dark. A normal rabid demon wouldn't be like this. The probability of it being a big dog or an alien demon is still fifty-fifty," Gordon gestured.

Winslow nodded. He knew Gordon had put in the effort; he wasn't just putting books under his pillow and hoping the knowledge would flow into his brain on its own.

"Then Peter will be in charge of overseeing," Winslow ordered.

Everyone is used to it.

In the biomedical department, senior student Peter has always had a wide range of responsibilities. Sometimes, even if the toilet in the dormitory leaks, he'll be notified, although he's not very willing to take care of it.

"And...Gordon," Winslow said.

Gordon looked up.

"...Gorden and Peter checked the autopsy procedures of the other people to see if their behavior was proper and their thinking was correct. If anyone performed a dangerous operation, they were kicked out of the classroom immediately."

As soon as he finished speaking, many people looked surprised, thinking they had misheard.

Dozens of eyes were fixed on Gao Deng.

There was surprise, dissatisfaction, and, of course, jealousy.

We're all classmates, so why do you have the right to hold a board and criticize others?

"The other students work in groups of five to examine external abnormalities, special organs, the respiratory system, and the digestive system," Winslow said.

Gordon realized that the professor had begun to seriously mentor him.

Gordon's status is now significantly higher than that of ordinary students.

It's small, but it feels so new.

[Recordboard. Before, others wrote comments for you; now you write comments for others.]

Gordon took the recorder's tablet, his expression immediately becoming particularly solemn.

Previously, he was only responsible for menial tasks such as cleaning up blood and drying the dissection table. Now, he only needs to tick a few boxes to affect everyone's credits and determine whether they have a happy holiday.

"Oh, students, I will certainly be honest with you," Gordon said.

"..." Instead of feeling relieved, everyone became even more uneasy and forced themselves to go up.

"Hey hey..."

Several girls quickly gathered around Charlotte.

They all knew Charlotte and Gordon were close, and now they wanted to get a piece of the action.

"Is he strict with his grading?"

"Will he care if we said something wrong?" they chattered.

Charlotte gave a wry smile.

Based on her understanding of Gordon, if Charlotte made a mistake, Gordon would only penalize her severely. Not to mention anyone else.

"Let's begin," Winslow said. "Do it the way you've learned."

Percy Graham was always a high-achieving student in the class, and came from a distinguished background.

He planned to be the first to find the anomaly and prove that it was an alien demon, rather than a wild dog that looked too exaggerated.

So he immediately picked up a scalpel and prepared to open the corpse's chest cavity.

The plan was clear: to be the first to find a special organ and prove their capabilities.

"Don't rush to cut," Gordon said. "We haven't seen anything yet."

"..." Percy snorted coldly, "With carbon buildup in its nasal cavity and its fur burned off, it must have an abnormally hot demonic organ inside its body that continuously radiates heat. We'll only know its location by opening it up."

"Did you notice its chest was abnormally swollen?"

"Yes," Percy confirmed. "So it's most likely hiding an alien organ."

"Absolutely correct. However, its internal environment is currently like a high-temperature, high-pressure environment. If you were to make a cut, something would probably explode. Have you ever heard of the concept of a giant?"

"..."

"It's okay if you haven't heard of it," Gordon said understandingly. "Once you make the cut, everyone will know."

Percy paused for a moment, then finally put down the scalpel.

Gordon nodded and wrote "Good safety awareness" on the notepad.

Charlotte and her best friend Cecilia stood together.

"Holding the record board, he's a completely different person," Cecilia the Demon whispered. "Like a villain who can decide the fate of others, doesn't that make you even more infatuated?"

"Hmm...hmm? Get out of here!" Charlotte almost nodded in agreement, then realized what she meant.

Another, more honest student, John Seymour, carefully gathered clues.

John was the top student in his class, a low-key person, and had a habit of writing everything down in a notebook and memorizing it.

"...The pads on the front paws are thickened, while the muscles in the hind limbs are not very developed... There may be a congenital motor defect." John and several classmates took notes.

"Let's broaden our thinking a bit," Gordon said. "Let's assume it's not necessarily because it runs less."

"Climb a lot?" John understood immediately.

"Yes, in order to move freely in a complex factory environment, it may have developed the habit of crawling through narrow pipes."

John thought about it and agreed, so he crossed out the original conclusion and rewrote it:

"...It is suspected that environmental factors led to adaptive evolution of the forelimbs..."

Gordon ticked it.

John saw the hook and felt a strange sense of relief.

Then, he suddenly realized...

He's number one in the grade!

Why did I start to care about the checkmark that Gordon drew?

John doubted himself for a moment.

Charlotte put on gloves, first touching the rabid dog's belly, then feeling her way down to its throat.

"There's something weird in its neck," Charlotte said.

"Guess what that's for?" Gordon teased her.

"..." Charlotte pressed it and felt a bulging, round thing with a leathery texture. Some animals came to mind, "A vocal organ? Like the vocal sac of a frog or bullfrog."

"Beautiful." Gordon nodded.

Finally, Charlotte also gained intelligence.

Charlotte was about to say something demure when Cecilia nudged her with her shoulder.

"He said you're beautiful," she said.

"Hey, hey." Charlotte turned to the side. "You're saying my idea is brilliant, my thinking is brilliant..."

"They're both beautiful, they don't clash." Gordon heard her, of course. Charlotte's face was burning.

Seeing that there was no way to proceed, Percy picked up a scalpel and prepared to cut along the sternum.

[A swollen sternum. It harbored a grudge in life, and it wasn't prepared to swallow it even in death.]

"It still can't be opened," Gordon said. "There's still pressure inside."

"Judging from the state of decay, it has been dead for a long time," Percy said.

"So the pressure won't just disappear on its own. If there's an abnormal organ inside, it's very likely that it will continue to break down fat and flesh after the corpse dies." Gordon opened the dog demon's mouth, checked the bullet holes, and then inspected the rear exhaust vent.

They all exhibit abnormal tissue proliferation, as if something continues to grow after its death.

"...That is indeed a possibility," Percy admitted.

"So you were about to perform a dangerous operation, and according to regulations, I was supposed to kick you out of the classroom." Gordon shrugged.

"What should we do?" Percy gritted his teeth. It seemed like a lot of pressure was building up in his chest.

"Go open the window," Gordon said.