Chapter 114: The Edited Epilogue

Freya spent the next morning trying to remember everything about the online version of The CEO's Gentle Devotion. She could no longer access her old world's websites, so memory was their only bridge. Louis sat opposite her with the notebook divided into FACT, MEMORY, and ASSUMPTION.

The system irritated Freya until she admitted it helped. Under FACT they wrote only things verifiable in the current world. Under MEMORY went details Freya genuinely recalled. Under ASSUMPTION went every theory about why the novel existed.

Freya remembered that the story had been published under the pen name North Wind. The author had almost no public profile. Readers complained about rushed business arcs and praised the romance. The epilogue had appeared suddenly after a short hiatus.

The strange sentence about the wrong person waking up appeared only when Freya revisited the book shortly before her death. She could not remember whether it was part of the chapter, an author's note, or a platform glitch.

Louis asked whether the novel contained information no ordinary writer should have known. Freya considered the question. The public-facing business events could have been invented. Personal details were more troubling. The book described Louis's habit of rubbing his left thumb when angry, the layout of his grandfather's study, and a childhood scar hidden beneath his shoulder.

Louis stared at her. "The scar was never public."

Freya felt a chill. She had assumed those details were fictional characterization that happened to become real after transmigration. Now they looked different.

They searched the current world's internet for phrases from the novel. Nothing matched. There was no book called The CEO's Gentle Devotion and no author using North Wind with the same bibliography.

Derek joined them and listened without mocking the impossible premise. After everything involving behavioral manipulation, he had learned not to reject strange evidence merely because it sounded absurd.

He suggested searching Adrian's seized and leaked correspondence for the phrase "North Wind." A keyword search produced one result in Evelyn's archive: a scanned memo mentioning Project Northwind.

The memo was almost twenty years old.

Project Northwind had been commissioned by Evelyn Stone as a private succession-risk study. Its purpose was to model how family companies might respond to leadership crises, rival takeovers, scandals, and changes in inheritance.

Freya stared at the title. "North Wind."

Louis read the memo twice. The project had used behavioral profiles of Stone family members and business partners. Adrian later gained access to portions of Evelyn's archive.

That offered a rational bridge between the novel's uncanny accuracy and Adrian's knowledge of an expected ending. Perhaps the story Freya read somehow reflected a predictive model created in this world.

But it did not explain how that model became a web novel in another world.

Nor did it explain why someone had added a sentence apparently anticipating Freya's awakening.

Derek found the name of Project Northwind's lead analyst: Dr. Julian Cross.

The record listed him as deceased.

Freya looked at Louis. "Let me guess. We're going to discover he's not actually dead."

Louis checked the date. "He died twelve years ago."

Derek's phone buzzed with a search result. "Maybe. But someone has been paying the renewal fees on his private research foundation every year since then."

The impossible mystery had just acquired an address.

The foundation records also showed that Evelyn had ordered annual preservation of Northwind material even after she stopped funding active research. That suggested she considered the project dangerous or valuable enough to keep intact. Louis requested a full legal inventory rather than removing anything, ensuring every document remained traceable.

The foundation records also showed that Evelyn had ordered annual preservation of Northwind material even after she stopped funding active research. That suggested she considered the project dangerous or valuable enough to keep intact. Louis requested a full legal inventory rather than removing anything, ensuring every document remained traceable.