Sadam Vinson watched her back as she walked upstairs, his face filled with a mix of emotions, holding what seemed like a hot potato in his hands, making him uneasy and not knowing where to put it.

He had no choice but to return to the living room.

Sadam Vinson found his phone and called Amadeus Yancey: "Amadeus, when are you coming back? Nathalie brought back something tricky, and I don’t know where to put it. Do you have any secret compartments or something...?"

The man on the other end of the line said something.

He let out a big sigh, his expression relaxed considerably, and he eagerly said, "Alright, I’ll wait for you to come back, hurry back."

*

Upstairs.

Nathalie Quinlan just finished taking a shower.

Her fair hand held a towel as she wiped off the dripping water; her velvet bathrobe casually draped over her, only loosely tied at the waist.

Nathalie lazily walked back to the desk, hooked a chair with her foot, sat down, and while wiping her hair, her eyes carelessly noticed the phone she had just placed there to charge.

She remembered the message from Wincent Sullivan she saw before going upstairs.

Nathalie wiped her hair till it was half-dry, placed the towel to the side, reached for her charging phone, and opened WhatsApp again.

Sure enough.

Wincent Sullivan’s message was still at the top.

It said Mrs. Sullivan wanted to see her.

Nathalie half-squinted, pondering for quite a while, unsure where Mrs. Sullivan’s desire to meet her came from—they seemingly didn’t know each other, right?

Her hair was still half-dry, wrapped in her bathrobe, her demeanor slightly tired and lazy as she looked at the message Wincent Sullivan sent her, not immediately deciding how to respond.

Nicholas Fuller’s call came in.

Seeing the phone number, Nathalie already knew it was Nicholas Fuller.

She tossed the towel aside, got up, picked up the phone, and went to the bed to answer it.

"Hello."

Nathalie wasn’t in a great state today, mainly because she didn’t sleep well last night, and after rushing to The First Research Institute, she was utterly exhausted from a lack of sleep, her voice unconsciously tinged with a slight hoarseness, very low.

"Sun?"

Nicholas Fuller was calling her for the first time, a bit unused to her voice.

Nathalie gave an ’uh-huh,’ thought of Nicholas’s age, then pursed her lips and added: "It’s me."

Nicholas Fuller, hearing the distinctively personal tone of the girl, knew he didn’t dial the wrong number and, without further ado, concisely said: "Your entry into the Level 8 laboratory has been set. You can report tomorrow; I’ve talked with Orson Saban."

Worried that Nathalie, being new, might not know the personnel dynamics of The First Research Institute, he quickly added: "Orson Saban will be your future teacher, and he is very capable. You can learn well under him."

"Okay." Nathalie instinctively nodded.

Only when she heard Nicholas Fuller’s endless chatter on the other end did she realize he couldn’t see her, and she couldn’t help but smile wryly.

The irritation caused by the Kingsleys Family quickly dissipated.

"Also, are you okay going alone tomorrow, or do you want me to come and have your back? You know the selection process for the Level 8 laboratory is stringent. Your entry into the Level 8 lab is an exception, so you’ll likely face considerable resistance and might be ostracized by other peers in the Level 8 lab... If you’re worried, I can make some time tomorrow to accompany you."

Nathalie curled her lips into a smile, not waiting for Nicholas to finish, walked to the sofa, found a spot to sit down, crossed her legs, and lazily said with a devil-may-care attitude: "No need, I can handle it myself."