The remaining hours of Damon's work passed by as he returned to his desk and focused again on coding until 6 p.m. arrived—exactly the end of his shift. He didn't feel like staying any longer at the office since he was already exhausted from working the entire day.
He left the office building and noticed that it was already getting dark outside.
As he walked home, he noticed a familiar face waiting for him near the corner of the street he usually passed.
It was none other than Phoebe.
But in Damon's mind, they had no scheduled agenda or plans for today, especially since they were also trying to lay low for now.
However, Damon was suddenly surprised when he saw that Phoebe wasn't alone—she was with another woman. The woman's face looked familiar to him, but he couldn't quite remember who she was.
He asked Phoebe who the woman was, noticing that her expression was unusually serious at that moment.
"Why? Is there a problem? Did something bad happen to her?" Damon asked, feeling uneasy about the situation unfolding in front of him.
Then Phoebe spoke up and turned to the woman beside her.
"Go on, say it. Isn't he the one you've been waiting for?" Phoebe said.
Suddenly, without saying a word, the woman rushed in and hugged Damon tightly.
"My savior!" she exclaimed, squeezing Damon even tighter—causing Phoebe's eyes to flare up in irritation. Without hesitation, she pinched the woman's ear as she clung to Damon.
Damon instinctively took a small step back, gently pushing the woman away from him as confusion clouded his face.
"Wait, wait, hold on," he said, still baffled and trying to make sense of what was happening. He looked at Phoebe, clearly seeking an explanation.
"Who is she? What's going on? Why is she with you?"
Phoebe let out a long sigh before replying.
"Oh, Damon… that woman just so happens to be the one who picked up your diary—the very one you've been worrying about for days now."
She crossed her arms and added, "And since practically all your POVs are written in that diary, including the details of your secret identity... well, congratulations. She knows everything. She knows who you really are—The Fool."
Damon visibly paled, his body stiffening as the weight of Phoebe's words sank in. A cold sweat broke across his brow, and his heartbeat quickened. Someone else knew—someone outside their circle. Someone who had read everything.
"W-What…?" he stammered, barely able to find his voice. "She knows everything?"
Phoebe nodded, her expression serious.
"I was actually on my way to visit you," she began, arms crossed as she explained. "There's something important I needed to tell you. But when I got close to your building, I noticed this woman… acting strangely. She kept pacing around, sneaking glances at people going in and out, clearly waiting for someone."
"I was going to ignore her," she continued, "until I heard her muttering like some obsessed creep… saying your name over and over. 'Damon Ashcroft… Damon Ashcroft…' It gave me chills."
Damon looked at her, still tense. "And then?"
Phoebe sighed. "So I confronted her. I asked what she was doing. And thanks to my little gift of knowing when someone's lying, I got her to spill the truth."
She gestured to the woman now clinging to Damon's arm with stars in her eyes.
"She admitted it. She found your diary. Read all of it. And yes—she's obsessed with The Fool. Apparently she's your number one fan. Her name's Claire."
Claire, still hanging on Damon's arm, beamed up at him like a child meeting their hero. "You're even more handsome in person, Damon," she whispered. "I knew you were real. I knew The Fool was real."
Damon could only stare at her, stunned, as Phoebe rubbed her temple in frustration.
"This… is going to be a problem," she muttered.
Phoebe fell silent for a moment, her serious expression unmoving as she locked eyes with Claire. Damon, meanwhile, remained frozen in place—still processing the surreal tension between the two women before him.
"I was going to say," Phoebe resumed, her voice quieter but still firm, "that we might have to erase her memory, or at least find a way to contain this information—"
But before she could finish, Claire sharply cut her off.
"Whatever you're thinking of doing to me—if it will harm The Fool, or put his identity at risk in any way—then stop right there." Her voice, calm yet filled with unwavering devotion, silenced the room. "I admire him more than anyone else in this world. I swear, I would rather die than let anyone expose who he truly is."
Even Damon, who had faced countless threats in his life, found himself struck speechless by Claire's sincerity. Her eyes, locked onto his, burned not with obsession—but with fierce loyalty.
Phoebe narrowed her gaze, activating her ability quietly.
No lies. No hesitation. No deceit.
"She's… telling the truth," Phoebe admitted, slowly turning toward Damon. "Every word."
Damon finally let out a deep breath, his chest still heavy with caution. "Then what now…?"
Phoebe stepped back, crossing her arms thoughtfully. "Then we keep her close. Very close. Until we're sure we can trust her fully—not just with secrets, but with her actions. You've got yourself a personal fan club now, Damon."
Claire smiled softly and replied, "Not just a fan. A believer."
Damon glanced at her again, uncertain, but with a spark of reluctant acceptance. For now, this wildcard might just become an unexpected ally—or a ticking time bomb. Either way, she knew too much to be ignored.