Shen Ge followed Xiao Zhang to the medical department. The so-called “psychological evaluation” turned out to be nothing more than a set of mental health questionnaires, followed by an assessment through a conversation with a psychiatrist.

Holding the test papers, Shen Ge’s expression was somewhat peculiar. Just as the psychiatrist was about to ask if there was an issue with the questions, Shen Ge picked up his pen and began scribbling away. In less than five minutes, he finished a test that typically took 30 to 60 minutes to complete.

The psychiatrist stared at Shen Ge’s completed answers, then gave him a strange look. “Mr. Shen… have you done this kind of test before?”

“Is this set of answers not suitable? Then give me another one—I’ve got several more answer keys ready,” Shen Ge replied earnestly.

Though Shen Ge had never taken this exact test before, the questions were clearly lifted from a few classic case-study textbooks. Coincidentally, he had memorized those books cover to cover during his university electives.

“……” The psychiatrist was speechless. The psychological test in his hands was one commonly given to frontline soldiers to assess their mental state after combat.

After all, going to war meant casualties—whether from killing enemies or witnessing comrades fall in battle. Such experiences inevitably took a heavy psychological toll.

But Shen Ge’s answers were too perfect, as if tailored for the ideal soldier.

Shen Ge tentatively asked, “By the way, you’ve seen my file, right? It mentions I majored in design, but does it say… I minored in psychology? You guys have been using this same test for ten years. Times have changed—maybe it’s time to update the question bank.”

Psychiatrist: …Damn it. No wonder something felt off—this guy’s one of us. What’s even the point of testing him now?

The psychiatrist had no interest in playing mind games with Shen Ge. The moment he’d read Shen Ge’s file, he’d known there was something off about him.

But if Deng Yuqi still wanted to recommend him despite that, it could only mean these “minor issues” were negligible compared to his abilities.

With a resigned sigh, the psychiatrist noted Shen Ge’s situation on the evaluation form, then called in his assistant, Xiao Zhang, to take Shen Ge to Deng Yuqi.

Deng Yuqi was somewhat surprised when she saw Shen Ge’s psychological evaluation. “You studied psychology before?”

“Yeah. My teacher said it’s good to have an extra skill—makes job hunting easier. Worst case, I could always become a criminal consultant,” Shen Ge replied.

“……” Who was your teacher, Moriarty?

Deng Yuqi decided not to dwell on the topic, afraid Shen Ge might drop any more dangerous statements. His file already had enough red flags as it was.

“Your initial job application wasn’t approved for two physical reasons. First, your recent company health checkups weren’t great—your physical condition is actually worse than the average person’s. Did you really never exercise before?”

“Office workers don’t have time for that.”

Deng Yuqi had no response to that.

“Fine, that’s not a problem. I’ve already prepared a detailed diet and exercise plan for you. Stick to it for a month, and you’ll see major improvements. As for the second issue…” She paused, then looked up at Shen Ge. “You were in a mental hospital as a child?”

Shen Ge nodded honestly. “Yeah. When I was ten, I had a bit of a breakdown and got sent to a mental hospital for advanced studies for three years. Discharged at thirteen.”

“……”

Advanced studies?

Are you fricking Leon from Resident Evil?

After a moment of silence, Deng Yuqi finally asked, referencing the file, “…Was it because you witnessed your parents’ car accident?”

Shen Ge’s expression darkened slightly—the first time Deng Yuqi had seen such a look on his face since meeting him.

“Yeah,” he replied with a nod.

Deng Yuqi said, “I’m sorry. I don’t want to bring up painful memories, but this is a routine inquiry. It’ll be recorded and kept in your file.”

“It’s fine. It’s been over a decade,” Shen Ge said with a smile, regaining his usual relaxed demeanor.

Deng Yuqi continued, “The case file states it was an ordinary accident… but why was it reported as a disappearance? Were your parents’ bodies never found?”

Shen Ge replied, “My parents showed signs of suicidal tendencies. They drove off a cliff into the sea. The car was recovered, but their bodies weren’t found.”

“Suicidal tendencies?” Deng Yuqi frowned.

Shen Ge sighed inwardly. What was I supposed to say? That my dad split his head open and swallowed my mom’s skull, causing the car to crash into the sea?

That kind of honesty was what got him locked up in a mental hospital for three years.

But after activating the system and learning about the existence of “anomalies” in this world, Shen Ge had begun to reconsider what had happened that day.

Though more than a decade had passed, he still remembered it clearly. His family had been on a seaside vacation. On the way back to the hotel, his father had started acting strangely—normally talkative, he’d become silent. His mother had even argued with him over it.

Then, black mist began swirling around his father’s body, and his form started twisting.

Shen Ge’s mother had sharp instincts. The moment she saw the black mist and the transformation, she seemed to realize something was wrong. She slammed on the brakes, sending his father—now halfway turned into some kind of octopus monster—crashing into the windshield.

She told Shen Ge to get out and run. The driver’s side door was already open, and Shen Ge had assumed she’d escape with him. But the moment she stepped out, black tentacles yanked her back inside.

The car roared to life again.

Through the rear window, Shen Ge saw his father’s head split in two before biting off his mother’s head. Then, the car swerved off the cliff and plunged into the sea.

“Shen Ge, are you okay?” Deng Yuqi called out, noticing his distant expression.

“I’m fine. Go on,” Shen Ge said, pressing a hand to his forehead. If that incident was connected to anomalies, then everything made sense now.

Deng Yuqi continued, “After leaving the mental hospital, you were supposed to live with relatives, but you refused and ended up in an orphanage instead.”

“Yeah. No one wants to adopt a kid who’s been in a mental hospital,” Shen Ge said with a laugh. He still remembered the way his relatives had looked at him—like he was some kind of disgusting monster.

Deng Yuqi scanned the file. “You did well at the orphanage, got into high school, and moved out. Records show you’ve been sending money to the orphanage as recently as last month.”

“People need something to hold onto. Even though everyone at the orphanage—staff and kids—has changed over and over, that place saved me. A few thousand here and there isn’t much, but maybe it’ll help a few other homeless kids like me,” Shen Ge said lightly.

After the old director of the orphanage passed away from illness, Shen Ge had never gone back. No one there remembered him anymore. The only reason he kept sending money was out of gratitude for the old man.

“You can think of the Special Response Division as your home from now on,” Deng Yuqi said, filling out Shen Ge’s information without looking up. Her tone was casual, as if she were simply inviting an old friend over for dinner.

Shen Ge was momentarily taken aback. He hadn’t expected her to say that. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes before he joked, “With free room and board?”

Still not looking up, Deng Yuqi replied, “Food—we’ve got a cafeteria. You’ve been there. Eat as much as you want, just don’t waste it. Housing—we’ve got dorms. Li Xiang, Huo Yu, and the others live there. Just register with logistics if you want a room.”

“Forget the contract,” Shen Ge said seriously.

Deng Yuqi raised an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“If you’re covering food and housing, then from now on, I belong to the Special Response Division alive or dead. Let’s just sign a lifelong servitude agreement,” Shen Ge declared solemnly, as if taking an oath.

“……”

“Oh, and do the dorms come with computers and Wi-Fi?” Shen Ge asked.