Jennifer was almost 120% sure Quintin was behind this. If he was even half as much a chosen-one-fated-hero in real life as he was in her webnovel, then yes—he must have stumbled onto something, triggered some cosmic awakening, and careened straight down the path of his destiny.
Quintin shuffled his feet like a confused puppy. "Me, Ms. Jen?"
He looked so wronged that Jennifer immediately felt guilty. Of course. How dare she accuse her perfectly flawed MC of… something.
Angus and Damien looked equally bewildered, which made Jennifer feel even more like a background character in someone else's story—thrown in only to point fingers and shout accusations at the MC. That was Quintin's universe: random strangers had to pick on him so he could strut, shine, and make them admit they were wrong because apparently, having eyes didn't mean you could recognize greatness.
Lines like that practically fueled his kind of webnovel.
Lines like "Repay good tenfold and evil a hundredfold"—Quintin had said it himself.
And let's not forget the "Finders keepers, losers weepers" routine whenever treasure appeared. Or his proud, smug grin whenever he "played the pig to eat the tiger."
"I… I'm not sure what you want me to say, Ms. Jen," Quintin shrugged helplessly.
Jennifer narrowed her eyes at her MC. This boy! What on earth was she supposed to do with him?
"Just tell me everything you did since moving in last night," she decided.
By now, she was certain he'd discovered the basement that shouldn't exist—and the trap door, too. She really wished she'd finished writing that chapter herself. All she wanted was for him to find rent money. Not… open an alien cockroach portal in front of her building.
"Quintin, tell me what happened," she insisted in her firm, quiet kindergarten-teacher voice. "Even if you don't say it, I'll find out anyway (because I can just check my webnovel and read the new chapter). But I'd prefer to hear it from you directly."
Quintin froze. Then shrugged. "Why do you think it was me?"
Because I wrote you, you stubborn, shrewd, devious little MC! Next time, she promised herself, she'd only write polite, honest, cute MCs.
"Ms. Jen, it's not fair to blame Quintin," Angus said, defensively.
"He's just a weak human," Damien added.
Jennifer shook her head in disbelief. Were her three MLs actually… friends now?
"Is there a reason for you to suspect the boy, Jen?" Adrian asked, casually placing a hand on her shoulder.
Poof—that was the sound of her brain vaporizing.
"He must have found something in the basement!" she blurted out, before her brain completely disintegrated.
"My dear, calm yourself," Frank said, all polite smiles. "There is no basement in this building."
"It is evident the lady has been startled," Duke Chevon said quietly, "Under such extraordinary circumstances, one's equanimity might well be shaken."
None of them were helping her brain regain "equanimity" by the way.
But Quintin's face went pale—and Damien's alpha senses pricked up. "She's not lying, and you're sweating. Quintin, I'll give you one chance to come clean… or else."
The young alpha growled low and cracked his knuckles—which, apparently, worked far better than Jennifer's kindergarten-teacher voice ever could.
Quintin sighed. "I didn't take anything."
Nobody looked convinced. He sighed again. "Alright. Come with me. I'll show you."