The Heiress They Lost Came Back Overpowered

"That project’s in no rush. We still have a few days. I’ll let you know in advance when it’s ready. For today, just rest. That way you can’t go tattling when you get back, saying I mistreated you."

’Is she really being this nice, letting us rest?’

’Besides, if tattling actually worked, would we even be here in the first place? If it did, you’d be out of a job!’

Yvonne Lowell raised an eyebrow. "What? Not tired enough today? Want to do some extra training?"

"No, no! We’re leaving right now."

With that, they took off running without a backward glance.

The darkest hour is just before the dawn; only a moron would stay for more.

...

All the way until lights-out, Yvonne Lowell didn’t pull any of her usual tricks.

The camp was so peaceful and serene, it felt like the calm before the storm.

Theodore Zane lay half-propped up on his bed, hands clasped behind his head.

"I can’t shake the feeling that something’s off. My Scorpio intuition is telling me the instructor is definitely plotting something."

The heating in the room was on full blast. Blake Paxton lay under his covers, eyes closed.

"Oh, please. Your intuition is never right. Besides, you have to let the instructor act like a human being for once. We still have three days before we leave. Even if she’s planning a secret assessment, she wouldn’t start it today."

(The author has ranted about this before—we Scorpios have super accurate intuition!!!)

"Specs, you’re toast. You said the instructor wasn’t human. I’m telling on you tomorrow."

Unfazed, Blake Paxton rolled over. "Be my guest, if you have any proof."

"Damn it!" Theodore Zane flopped down in a huff. A good man doesn’t argue with a jerk.

Deep down, Stanley Sutton also felt that something wasn’t quite right. But the physical and mental exhaustion from the day’s brutal assessment crushed any desire to puzzle it out, and he soon drifted off to sleep.

Sometime in the early morning hours, Stanley Sutton woke for a moment.

He didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, however, and soon drifted back into a deep sleep, lulled by the chorus of his teammates’ snores.

The other three squads had a similar experience. They were suspicious at first, but after finding nothing amiss, they all settled in for the night.

「Four in the morning.」

Having slept her fill, Yvonne Lowell sauntered into the monitoring room. She rolled her neck and pressed a few buttons on the console.

"Cut the power," she said nonchalantly.

Simultaneously, the fire sprinklers on the ceilings of the four dorm rooms began sputtering water.

The top bunks were the first to suffer. The feeling was just like sunbathing, only to have a passing bird drop a load right on your face—a watery one, at that.

"Holy shit..."

Those jolted awake by the spray shot bolt upright, stared at the device gushing water over their heads, and scrambled out of bed.

"Up, up, up! Everyone, wake up!"

"What’s happening? Are we flooding?!"

"I knew it! I knew it! And you guys didn’t believe my intuition!"

"Something’s off. No whistle, no siren."

"Never mind that! Get downstairs, and wake up the rooms next to us!"

"Damn, waking up to a cold shower in the middle of winter... We’ve got a new contender for ’Most Tragic Victim of the Year’."

The four squads met downstairs. Or, to be more precise, the Snow Phoenix Squad was already downstairs waiting for them.

Seeing the others arrive, Summer Quinn’s brow furrowed. "Something’s wrong outside."

Stanley Sutton glanced outside. It was pitch-black; even the streetlights were out.

"What happened? Give us the details."

"There’s not a soul outside, and there are usually patrols. What’s more, I checked the main gate—it’s been locked from the outside."

They often had to be up before dawn for training, so the main door to the dormitory was almost never locked. Even if it were, someone would have opened it before their drills.

"All the lights are out except for the emergency lights in the hall. It’s either a power outage, or someone flipped the main breaker."

The four squad leaders looked at each other and said in unison, "The secret assessment has begun."

"The problem is, we have no gear and no idea what the assessment is. We can’t even see the damn path, so how the hell are we supposed to do this?!" Jasper Hayes said, his temper flaring.

Summer Quinn thought for a moment. "Wait, no... that’s not it. If the main gate is locked, could the gear be somewhere inside this building?"

"Between these two buildings, that’s over a hundred rooms... How are we supposed to find it?"

"Then we’ll have to split up and search each dorm room by room," Skylar Kidd said with a shrug.

Just as they were about to move out, they heard the sound of a drone again.

’Ah, the same old song and dance.’

Looking up, they saw that blasted thing, lights flashing, as it buzzed merrily toward them.

It flew over their heads, dropped an unidentified object, and then had the decency to hover in place and illuminate them.

As luck would have it, the unidentified object bonked Jasper Hayes right on the head. Wincing in pain, he pointed a finger at the drone above.

"Damn it! You did that on purpose, didn’t you?!"

Stanley Sutton picked up the file folder from the ground and opened it. Using the light from the drone, he began to read the first page aloud.

"’I’ve long heard that Number 1 is a formidable fighter, utterly invincible. Now, it seems she’s nothing special.’"

"’Listen up, you little pups. Your instructor, Number 1, is in my hands. I hear you’re not just her prized pupils, but also members of some so-called elite squad.’"

"’Since you’ve been hyped up so much, why don’t you prove you have what it takes? Find me, and rescue your instructor.’"

"’But you’d better be quick. You all know what a nasty mouth Number 1 has. I’m worried I might lose my patience and... kill the hostage.’"

"’Don’t say I don’t play by the rules. I’ve prepared gear for all of you. It’s just that I don’t know if maybe you’ve watched too many horror movies, because you didn’t even think to look under your beds. So, I guess you’ll just have to go to the trouble of climbing all the way back upstairs to get it.’"

"’Just in case you don’t believe me, I’ve even taken a few photos of Number 1. I’ll be waiting for you, my little fledglings.’"

"’—Sincerely, the World’s Greatest Outlaw, Dugu Qiubai.’"

After he finished reading the note, a wave of secondhand embarrassment washed over Stanley Sutton...

The others had similarly awkward expressions. Ryan Ford swallowed hard.

"That’s so cringey. But isn’t he mixing up his references? Since when are ’Greatest Outlaw’ and ’Dugu Qiubai’ from the same universe? Besides, I have a feeling our instructor isn’t the one who wrote this."

Stanley Sutton emptied the remaining contents of the folder. It was filled with photos.

The photos showed Yvonne Lowell and two others, their hands and feet bound, slumped in a corner.

Their eyes were closed, and they appeared to have been knocked unconscious.

"Damn, they’re really going all out. So what do we do now?" Theodore Zane said, exasperated.

’Waking us up at four in the morning just to play dress-up?!’

Summer Quinn sighed. "What else can we do? Guess we’re going back upstairs to get our gear."