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The Special Investigation Department’s “people” had all left, leaving behind only drifting souls. In the pitch-black darkness, the Criminal Investigation Division was lit by a single lamp, like a lone lighthouse standing out in the middle of the sea at midnight.

The two of them had barely sat down when the door was knocked. After Carter Shaw called for them to enter, a steaming large tray floated in. Looking closely, it wasn’t floating in by itself—holding the tray was a headless person, a bit shorter, so the large tray blocked their body.

On the tray were two sets of utensils, four dishes, one soup, and two big bowls of rice. The headless ghost hovered in midair, floated in lightly, and gently set everything on the table. Somehow, it produced a bag of cat food and filled Darrin Grant’s cat bowl.

Darrin Grant maintained a dignified sitting posture, nodded reservedly, and said, “Thank you—if you could add some extra rich milk for me, that would be even better.”

…Some TV dramas really ought to have a warning at the beginning: “Children with intellectual disabilities and big silly fat cats should watch under adult supervision.”

The headless ghost drifted over to the fridge, took out a bottle of milk, and filled up Darrin Grant’s bowl.

Charles Gray had already gotten used to the environment at No. 4 Guangming Road. Gradually, he found that the difference between people and ghosts wasn’t that great. Some ghosts were very kind-hearted. For example, whenever someone worked overtime writing reports, this headless brother would always thoughtfully bring a hot meal, which made Charles Gray, who had only twenty yuan left after leaving the post office the day before, feel a warmth like spring.

After dinner, Carter Shaw sipped his hot tea unhurriedly and said to Charles Gray, “That’s basically the idea. As for the format, look at previous reports and adjust it yourself, organize the language a bit—the person wasn’t poisoned, but cursed by a resentful spirit… Yes, resentment as in grudge. The victim’s lower limbs are in unbearable pain. The spirit who cast the curse likely died from external injuries. The victim’s brow is dark, both eyes are red, and there’s a karmic line under the eyelid, but it’s shallow. There’s a black merit mark behind the ear, but it’s very faint, so they probably have no direct connection to the cursing spirit—their crime doesn’t warrant this. My preliminary judgment is that the spirit likely committed a serious crime…”

Charles Gray stared, his two paws flopped on the keyboard like a corpse—he didn’t understand at all and couldn’t keep up with what Carter Shaw was saying.

Carter Shaw sighed, stretched out his legs, and turned to ask the wide-eyed, clueless child, “Alright, what don’t you understand?”

Charles Gray: “What is a karmic line?”

Darrin Grant, who had his face buried in the milk, looked up, a ring of white “beard” on his black fur. Hearing this, he didn’t even bother to lick his mouth, and with a foodie’s characteristic white mustache, he exploded, “What’s up with Logan Sullivan? I see him either living in a drunken stupor or blinded by greed every day—does he ever do any real work? Has he even done new employee training yet? How come this kid doesn’t know a damn thing?!”

Carter Shaw couldn’t let a cat insult the boss, so he said, “Director Sullivan has been busy with the relocation lately. If that gets settled, we’ll be able to move into a private villa with a big garden next year. You could have a big cat house hanging in a tree, guarding a bird’s nest.”

The cat lord paused, his anger subsiding a bit. After a while, he decided to accept this reason, for the sake of the big cat house with the bird’s nest. He twitched his whiskers and explained disdainfully to Charles Gray, “A karmic line is just cause and effect. For example, if you’re walking down the street and a thug jumps out and kills you for no reason, there’s no prior cause, so there’s no karmic line. If a thug jumps out, finds you blocking his way, and stabs you to death because you were in his way, that’s a cause—so there’s a karmic line, but it’s very shallow, can be wiped away with a hand. If a thug jumps out, finds you’re the guy who had an affair with his wife and drove him to seek revenge on society, and kills you in anger, that karmic line can’t be wiped away, but it’s not especially deep either. It means there’s a connection, but the crime doesn’t match the punishment—the cause and effect don’t align. If a thug jumps out…”

Having already been killed by thugs several times in this explanation, Charles Gray couldn’t help but say, “He finds out I’m his mortal enemy, the one he planned to kill, and stabs me to death—so that karmic line would be deeper, right?”

Darrin Grant nodded sagely, “You’re teachable.”

Charles Gray asked, “Then… what’s a merit mark?”

Carter Shaw continued, “People with merit or sin have a mark behind their ear. For example, if someone secretly kills another person and the police never find out, and he’s never punished by law, there will still be a black mark behind his ear. In the past, people called this ‘damaging hidden virtue’—that’s what it means.”

As for people with great merit… Carter Shaw glanced at Charles Gray. He could see a clear white mark behind Charles Gray’s ear, radiating a deep and gentle light. But not everyone could see this kind of light—even with a third eye open, you’d have to focus all your attention to spot it.

Charles Gray mused, “Is the black mark like a handprint smudged with coal dust?”

Carter Shaw was taken aback, “You’ve seen it?”

Charles Gray nodded and recounted the incident from the previous night when he’d bumped into someone.

Darrin Grant snorted, “If an ordinary person can spot it with a casual glance, that guy is probably about to be struck by lightning.”

Seeing Charles Gray still confused, Carter Shaw explained, “Ordinary people can’t see merit marks. The one you saw probably wasn’t human. That’s why monsters who cultivate don’t dare harm people lightly—because they’re bound by the merit mark. If the mark gets black enough, it’ll attract heavenly punishment. Being struck by five thunders is no joke. When that happens, not only the punished monster, but even other little monsters in the same area could get caught up in it. So, to avoid implicating others and to prevent such troublemakers, every year at the end of the year, during the grand monster banquet, the monster clans tally up merits and demerits. If anyone’s gone too far, their own clan will deal with them first.”

Charles Gray half-understood, “So if a person does too many bad things, will they get struck by lightning too?”

“No,” Darrin Grant jumped to the floor, curled up into a ball behind the heater, and said, “Haven’t you heard the saying, ‘Those who build bridges and repair roads go blind, those who kill and burn have many sons’? The human world has its own rules. Most people only have this life and no next life. Life is so short, the cause and effect don’t have time to play out before it’s over. Each life is as insignificant as an ant, and the heavens can’t be bothered to intervene. So sometimes, even if ordinary people do good deeds, it doesn’t help much… But maybe if you do enough good, you’ll get lucky now and then. But not always. For example, you have pretty thick merit, but you’re still a poor little cabbage with a hard life.”

Charles Gray lost his parents young, was an orphan, not very talented and soft in character. Although Logan Sullivan always joked that having him around brought good luck, to be fair, Charles Gray wasn’t especially blessed. He had the broad-shouldered, thick-backed look of someone with a hard fate.

“Really? I have merit too?” Charles Gray was surprised, “I have a hard life? No, my life’s pretty good, I just don’t work hard enough.”

He felt he had no skills or abilities. His aunts and uncles always pitied him, would rather their own kids have less than shortchange him, so he grew up better off than his peers. Even as an adult, he was still a bit of a loser, but his second uncle forced him into such a good job, and his leaders and colleagues all took care of him, even letting him stay on—doesn’t that count as a good life?

The black cat, whose eyes were about to close, opened them and looked at Charles Gray. A flash of gold passed through the green eyes.

Before it could say anything, Logan Sullivan suddenly walked in, bringing a chill and the smell of alcohol, and asked hoarsely, “How’s the briefing coming along?”

“Oh…” Charles Gray had just opened his mouth, but before he could answer, he saw Logan Sullivan wave him off and stagger into the bathroom to throw up.

Carter Shaw and Charles Gray hurried after him. Darrin Grant clicked his tongue, slowly pulled his fat paw out from under himself, and waddled over, “Stupid humans.”

The stupid human, face pale, clutched his stomach and leaned against the wall. Carter Shaw patted his back and told Charles Gray, “How did he drink this much—Xiao Guo, get a glass of warm water.”

After vomiting once, Logan Sullivan rinsed his mouth, then stood up shakily and gave a bitter smile, “A bunch of bastards ganged up to get me drunk—what could I do?”

Carter Shaw: “Don’t talk nonsense. If you really didn’t want to drink, who could force you?”

Logan Sullivan leaned against the wall and walked out, “Just got dumped, can’t I drown my sorrows?”

“Oh, so Professor Sherman still doesn’t want you? The people’s teacher really has good taste. The masses are delighted.” Darrin Grant brushed past his legs, “Hey, it’s the end of the year and checks are strict. You didn’t drive drunk, did you? Drunk driving gets you six months in the station.”

Logan Sullivan said succinctly to the fat cat, “Get lost!”

He found a chair and sat down, slumping like a dead dog, “Xiao Guo, go call Zach Warren and bring over everything that needs my signature. Old Chu, tell me what’s going on.”