Chapter 43: On the Importance of Deleting Your Browsing History

Ralts was always so shy, her cheeks thin as silk. Tang Yi pretended not to notice anything amiss; he was a professional, after all, carefully schooling his expression and stifling his laughter. “I’ve already explained everything earlier. It’s all right now. Tomorrow I’ll take a day off and bring you to see the doctor.”

“Mm, I’ll do my best not to overthink things. So, I’ll go to bed early tonight, and you should turn in soon too.” Ralts’ voice was soft as cotton, gentler and more melodious than usual, sweetly tender.

“Alright, off you go,” Tang Yi replied with a blank face. He dared not smile; if he did, he feared he’d lose control and burst out laughing.

Ralts had been rather emotional lately, but now she seemed back to her usual self. Still, the syndrome weighed on her, leaving her oblivious to the strange strain in Tang Yi’s expression as he fought his laughter.

“Thank you.” Before leaving, Ralts suddenly thanked him, her tone gentle as ever. Though it wasn’t the first time she’d uttered those words, tonight they seemed to carry a new, deeper resonance.

Was it the effect of what he’d said to his parents earlier? That final sentence, “Treat Ralts as a member of the family,” had perhaps made all the difference.

Tang Yi surmised as much, satisfied that his deliberate effort—raising his voice several times just to make sure Ralts could hear through the door—had paid off.

She thought she was playing on the second level, but he was already in the stratosphere.

Usually, Ralts would linger in Tang Yi’s room after dinner, playing on the computer until nearly ten, when it was time for bed, before heading to her own little bedroom. But tonight, it was barely past eight—still early. When he heard the door to her room close, Tang Yi tiptoed to his own door, waited a moment, then peeked into the hallway. Once he was sure Ralts had retreated to her room, he closed and locked his door behind him.

Sitting down at the desk, he turned on the computer Ralts had recently shut down, ears pricked for the slightest sound from outside—ready to force a shutdown at the first sign of movement.

At last, the screen flickered to life.

It seemed Ralts really was about to fall asleep. During this syndrome, the fairy girl seemed to tire more easily; she’d been heading to bed early these days.

Tang Yi exhaled softly, though something still felt off.

This is my own computer—why am I so nervous, heart pounding, as if I’m a thief in my own house?

Ever since he’d taught Ralts how to use the internet, Tang Yi, the erstwhile teacher, had been left starving—he’d barely touched the keyboard since. Not that it mattered; he was busy preparing for college entrance exams anyway. Though he often joked with Ralts, he always treated her with the utmost respect, a fact she must have sensed, however vaguely.

But this time was different. Tang Yi felt that complete laissez-faire was no longer an option. Lately, Ralts’ little head was brimming with odd and fanciful ideas. While the stagnation syndrome was a trigger, there had to be other influences at play. Left to her own devices, the girl might not have dreamed up half these things.

The internet is a chaotic stew, and Ralts was far from discerning—Tang Yi knew this all too well.

Worried for her mental health, he resolved to put privacy concerns aside for now.

He opened the browser Ralts used most and checked the browsing history, letting out a breath of relief.

Thankfully, Ralts still hadn’t learned to delete her history, and he hadn’t thought to teach her—never occurred to him that it might be necessary. After all, who deletes their browsing history at home every day as if guarding against thieves?

There was a wealth of records, so Tang Yi began at the oldest entries.

[The Best Novels Online]
[End Point Novels]
[Speedy Novels]
[How to Pay for Novels Online]
[Can You Use a Phone Inside a Poké Ball?]
[What to Do If a Trainer Is Too Mean?]
...

Most of the earliest records were novel-related. That was the period shortly after Ralts had been born, when she was utterly obsessed with reading. Yet even then, a few odd entries were sprinkled throughout.

[College Entrance Exam]
[Is the College Entrance Exam Important for Humans?]
[Exam Competition Rules]
[Extra Points Mechanism for Exams]
[University Rankings]
[What to Do If Your Trainer Teases You?]
...

Most of the entries revolved around the exams and selection tournaments, with only a few odd queries that Tang Yi ignored. This would have been just before registration for the tournaments. The warmth in Tang Yi’s chest grew as he realized just how much the seemingly proud Ralts had cared for her trainer, even when she hid it well.

Later entries included searches about Pokémon battles, skill learning, descriptions of various moves, interspersed with tips about writing novels.

Up to this point, everything seemed normal.

But as Tang Yi read on, his expression grew stranger.

[Why Is My Training Different from Others?]
[Do Trainers Like Holding Hands with Their Pokémon?]
[What Does LSP Mean?]
[How to Tell If Your Trainer Is an LSP?]
[What to Do If Your Trainer Is an LSP?]

Tang Yi: ????

What in the world is this?

Where did Ralts even pick up the term LSP?

The only thing that consoled him was that, so far, Ralts still seemed to trust him.

He pondered for a moment, then searched for some of the same questions online.

Question: If a trainer treats their Pokémon especially well, what does it mean?

The first highlighted answer on the first page read: Some trainers may seem attentive and doting, but in truth, they only like young, unevolved Pokémon. Once the Pokémon evolves or grows up, they lose interest and casually abandon them. If your trainer displays such tendencies, please call 110 immediately.

What utter nonsense! Purely malicious speculation!

Thankfully, Ralts apparently didn’t believe it—or at least hadn’t tried actually calling the number.

Tang Yi read through more of Ralts’ searched questions. Many of the answers were dripping with suspicion, some were highly suggestive, others pure gibberish.

Tang Yi seethed. He did not deny that a handful of trainers out there were truly twisted, but they were a rare minority.

Yet Ralts now lacked the ability to distinguish between genuine and exaggerated, sensationalized answers online.

He also found that Ralts often clicked on all sorts of pop-up news, most of it bizarre or negative. Exposed to such a variety of disturbing stories, it was only natural that her mood would be affected.