[Name: Oliver Mylor]
[Age: 19]
[Division: Mecha Manufacturing]
[Guild: Dungeon Guardians]
"That's it?" Lyka hissed, glaring at her terminal like it had just insulted her entire bloodline.
"Where's the rest of it?!" She scrolled up. She scrolled down. She pinched, zoomed, cursed, and even tapped the side in case it was just lagging. But all she was getting was nonsense about his hair color, his megawatt smile, and videos of his achievements.
Clearly, the students of this academy were all useless if that one has deceived them just like that!
She took a deep breath and straightened her posture.
Fine.
It's fine, there's still Plan B, anyway. She wasn't a Vela for nothing after all.
And when the Academy forums failed to produce results, there was always one more option—
The black market.
She tapped into her encrypted network. Her fingers flew across the screen. Her expression was serious. Deadly.
