Although Eve Nightburn was feeling extremely sorrowful at this moment, her great group friends thousands of miles away definitely couldn’t sense her thoughts.
“Everyone should have seen enough by now, right?”
The admin lifted the group-wide mute.
The moment the mute was lifted, the long-suppressed group members erupted once again.
“What should I do? I feel like betraying humanity, fam!”
“So you don’t want to be human anymore either?”
Then, Caviar sent a meme—a ridiculous image of Doraemon pulling a Stone Mask out of his fourth-dimensional pocket.
“Lolicons deserve a horrible death! Learn from me—I’m only into tall, elegant onee-sans.”
“Lolis have three perks—”
“I know: sentencing, jail time, and execution. If you’re lucky, you might even get a bonus reincarnation ticket as royalty in another world.”
“That sounds great.”
Eve Nightburn stared at this sea of absurdity and briefly considered doing something illegal.
“Maybe… just hack this group outright?”
Honestly, Eve Nightburn was totally capable of pulling it off—it’d practically be her specialty!
But after some thought, Eve Nightburn ultimately decided against it.
After all, if she really did it, she’d never have to worry about her ID card again—no, scratch that, she’d never have to worry about living a peaceful life again.
The world’s stereotypes about Calamities were pretty severe, after all.
She’d worked hard to build up some credibility points, and even now, she was still under supervision.
Eve Nightburn knew all too well—reality wasn’t a game. No one could replenish her credibility points for her. If her credibility went bankrupt, it’d truly be over.
Thinking this, Eve Nightburn had no choice but to endure.
“Whatever…”
And so, Eve Nightburn resumed her lurking.
As a Kraken of the abyss, Eve Nightburn vowed never to surface and make a peep.
Because if she did, she wouldn’t be a Kraken anymore—she’d be grilled squid.
Humans only fear what they’ve never seen.
Conversely, just like now, when the group members saw the true face of Worldburn Flame, they weren’t scared at all!
Eve Nightburn even suspected these slackers had already whipped out their notebooks, ready to take notes.
These primates were truly beyond saving.
So utterly BT.
Watching the group’s degeneracy, Cirno quickly stepped in.
“You guys aren’t afraid of the group getting nuked, huh?”
[Member] Autumn Breeze: “Why worry? I’m sure the group owner already has a new Syndicate ready for us.”
[Member] Chancellor: “Exactly! I’m not into it, but hey, this is one of our group’s Four Great Industries—gotta support it!”
Eve Nightburn’s face darkened at Chancellor’s message.
She knew exactly what the “Four Great Industries” of the group chat referred to: gacha, selling silver, aluminum equipment, and refining copper.
Eve Nightburn began reflecting on why she’d even joined this absurd group in the first place.
Oh right—she’d gotten mixed in while gaming and fandom-hopping.
Well, that explained it. These people were gamers and forum dwellers—how noble could they possibly be?
Expecting anything else from them would be like Eve Nightburn hoping for a birthday miracle.
Eve Nightburn realized it wasn’t their fault—it was purely her own problem.
Just as she resumed lurking, someone suddenly remembered her.
[Member] Little Newbie: “Eve Nightburn… why does that name sound so familiar? @Yu, didn’t you once say your name was Eve Nightburn?”
“Dammit! How do you still remember something from so long ago, Little Newbie?!”
Eve Nightburn’s hands trembled violently as she slammed the desk, overwhelmed.
“As long as I stay silent! You’ll never get proof!”
“That’s right! I’ll just lurk! Let’s see what you do then!”
“Soon enough, everyone will forget anyway!”
Eve Nightburn desperately hoped the First Law of the Internet would kick in immediately.
And that law was—the internet has no memory.
[Member] Uncle: “Oh? You’re saying the Night Loli’s been lurking in our group all along? Hold on, let me check!”
[Member] Uncle: “Yo! This account’s been here for almost three years! But why hasn’t this person filled out any profile details?”
Uncle examined the account named “Yu.” No personal tags, no basic info—not even an IP address or gender.
The only things set were a black-on-white avatar with the character “Yu” and a nickname also reading “Yu.”
But once Uncle stirred the pot, the group’s legion of parrots immediately started a new chant: “Let me see!”
Watching the flood of messages, Eve Nightburn panicked.
Why wasn’t the First Law working?!
Instead, the Second Law of the Internet was kicking in:
Humanity’s essence is being a parrot.
Now, Eve Nightburn couldn’t afford to wait for the First Law.
If she didn’t debunk this quickly, the Second Law would ensure she’d wake up tomorrow to paparazzi swarming her doorstep.
[Member] Yu: “Stop stop stop! Why do you all think I’m that Silly Loli from the pictures?!”
[Member] Chancellor: “Then prove you’re not! Send us a photo! Oh, and make sure the timestamp’s visible—no timestamp means it’s someone else’s pic.”
“Me?!”
Eve Nightburn was left speechless by Chancellor’s retort.
This kind of self-incrimination trap was infuriating!
What could Eve Nightburn even do?
They’d already shot the arrow and drawn the target around it—the only acceptable answer was the one they wanted.
And any attempt to prove otherwise would just look like evasion and deceit.
Wait… wasn’t she actually planning to deceive them right now?
Oh no. They weren’t wrong after all…
After a moment of hesitation, Eve Nightburn suddenly realized something and frantically typed.
[Member] Yu: “How about you show us your info first?!”
Soon after, Chancellor posted a selfie with his ID card and a timestamp—taken just five seconds ago.
Eve Nightburn was stunned by Chancellor’s fearless attitude.
[Member] Yu: “Wait, you actually posted it?!”
Chancellor casually replied, “What’s there to fear? My info isn’t that important. Now, your turn.”
Oh no. Eve Nightburn now understood—comparing their personal info was like a shod horseman meeting a barefoot one: neither was coming out clean.
Eve Nightburn was spiraling into panic. She didn’t want to face social annihilation!
Her hands clawed wildly at her head, her thoughts as tangled as her hair.
The stray strands atop her head swayed aimlessly, just as lost as she was.
After this meltdown, Eve Nightburn suddenly realized—wait a minute!
Why was she even playing by his rules?!
