Emily and Mr. Satan sat across from each other in the living room, each holding a paper cup in hand. Mr. Satan drank with a sense of grace, carefully blowing on the hot liquid before taking small, deliberate sips. “Your cooking is excellent. This tastes really good,” he complimented. Emily gave a modest smile. “Thank you. But it’s not perfect. Here in Rome, it’s hard to find fresh ginger. When I make pork congee, I usually add some ginger slices to get rid of the smell and a bit of pepper for flavor. It would taste even better that way.” Mr. Satan seemed intrigued. “Is that how you always make congee? Or is that a typical way to make it in your hometown?” Emily chuckled lightly. “That’s just my way of making it. I’m sure the chefs in restaurants have their own methods, and their cooking is much better than mine.” Mr. Satan finished his congee rather quickly and reached for his wallet inside his jacket. He pulled out a bill and offered it to her. “Is a hundred dollars enough?” A hundred dollars for a cup of congee—a staggering amount. Emily politely declined. “No, thank you. You already paid for the groceries yesterday.” Mr. Satan gave a soft chuckle at her response. “That’s true.” “Thank you for helping me out last night.” “You’re welcome,” he replied, standing up from the couch. With the same courteous tone, he added, “Thanks for the congee. I’ll be heading out now.” Emily walked him to the door, watching as he returned to his room next door, number 2306. She only closed the door after he was safely inside. The two empty paper cups still sat on the coffee table. Emily picked them up and tossed them into the trash. Inside room 2306, Mr. Satan took out a cigarette and lit it. He dialed a number. It was picked up quickly. "Boss?" "I need you to look into someone for me.""Of course. Who is it?" "A woman, staying in the room right next to mine—2307." "Understood. I’ll contact a private investigator right away." After hanging up, his mind drifted to darker times. Back then, she was already resting in the cemetery—nothing left but a jar of ashes. He hadn’t even been able to say goodbye. Jackson, dressed in a stark black and white suit, stood in front of the gravestone, laying down a bouquet of white and yellow chrysanthemums. His face was void of any emotion as he spoke. “...She went into labor early because of the shock, severe bleeding. Just like her mother. Except… she and the baby both didn’t make it.” The Norman family kept the news a secret for three months, but even then, when Mr. Satan finally woke up, they couldn’t hide it from him. His burns had been so severe that the doctors had to perform skin grafts. His entire face had been reconstructed, now tightly wrapped in white bandages. He couldn’t make any expressions, but tears rolled down his face in heavy, unstoppable drops. The shock of it all had sent Meggie, his grandmother, into a hypertensive crisis, and she too was rushed to the emergency room. It was chaos, with Alex and Mandy trying to manage everything. Mr. Satan didn’t even get to see her one last time. By the time he was conscious, she was already gone, separating them forever. Meggie locked herself in the attic after that, refusing to leave. She spent her days in the prayer room, chanting the Bible, hoping to guide Emily and their unborn child to their next life, where they might be reborn into better circumstances. At the office, things ran smoothly for the most part, with Daniel and Ken keeping the ship afloat. But everyone knew that Mr. Satan wasn’t the same man anymore. Emily had pulled him out of the abyss, given him warmth and a reason to live. But just when he had started to believe in the possibility of happiness again, she was taken away. No one knew how Mr. Satan would cope. Even Alex had instructed the staff to keep a close watch on him, hiring several caretakers to monitor him 24/7 in case he tried to harm himself. But to everyone’s surprise, Mr. Satan recovered and returned to business as usual. He followed the doctors’ advice, resumed work at the company, and even agreed when Alex proposed merging the Reed and Norman family businesses, making Mr. Satan the most powerful man in New York. And then, he began his search for Jackson.Allen Parker had told him that after handling Emily’s funeral, Jackson had left the country to “clear his mind,” and had not returned since. The Parker family used all their resources to track him down, but Jackson had disappeared without a trace. So Mr. Satan joined the search. No one fully understood what had happened to Emily in her final hours. Why had both she and the baby died on the operating table? The whole situation was shrouded in mystery. Mr. Satan began to suspect something wasn’t right when Emily’s uncle, William, passed away, and her other uncle, Bert, quietly handled the funeral arrangements. Shortly after, Bert applied for a passport. A man in his fifties, who didn’t speak a word of ant other languages, suddenly planning to leave the country? It didn’t add up. He couldn’t help but wonder: Could Emily still be alive? Was it possible that she hadn’t died, but had instead been taken somewhere, hidden away? Fueled by this wild hope, Mr. Satan booked a ticket on the same flight as Bert and followed him to Rome, where he finally crossed paths with Jackson. Why was Jackson traveling with Bert? What connection did they even have? None of it made sense, but all signs pointed toward a possibility that excited Mr. Satan—maybe, just maybe, Emily was still out there. “You’ll head back to the States,” Mr. Satan said calmly, as he extinguished his cigarette, crushing the ashes into the tray. “I need some time to clear my mind.” “Are you sure? Maybe I should stay with you, boss,” Dylan suggested. “No need. I’ve joined a tour group, and they’ll keep me company.” Dylan nodded reluctantly. “Alright then. I’ll book my flight for tonight. But I’ll hire a private investigator to look into that woman.” Mr. Satan hung up the phone, watching as the last bit of his cigarette turned to ash and crumbled onto the table. The scent of pork congee still lingered in the room—warm and familiar. It drove him to madness.