Zosia: Quick Transmigration System-Chapter 126 - 124- ARC 4 {Inconsistencies}

In the room....

Zosia typed away on the laptop, jumping from one website to the other in search of jobs.

If there was one thing she hates about this part of the country in this world, it is their ability to trace suspicious money.

It didn't mean that the rich couldn't launder, but the laundering has to be done with more connections involved.

Taking a sip of the water on the table, Zosia closed down all the websites she had opened.

Just as she was about to switch off the laptop, she decided to see if she could get her hands on some evidence to prove her innocence.

Zosia didn't immediately tap into anybody's phone, rather she opened the search engine, then did some back end coding before typing in some string of web data.

A loading icon appeared, followed by the appearance of a pop up. Deleting the pop up, Zosia's gaze landed on the website logo and name.

Bringing out the pictures from the evidence shown by Damian, she compared the website to the one in front of her. freёnovelkiss.com

She noticed some inconsistencies.

Just as she was about scrutinizing them, a knock was heard on her door.

Zosia glanced at the door, a frown appearing on her face.

"Who could possibly be on her door by this time of the night?" Zosia muttered, her gaze landing on the clock in her room.

"Could it be because my lights were on?"

Zosia stood up to switch it off, when the knock was heard the second time.

Zosia frowned but said nothing, only hoping that whoever was knocking on her door could leave her alone.

She has some guesses but wasn't sure.

Her guess was soon confirmed, by the sweet honeyed voice that entered the room.

"Auriel," Aisha's voice called softly from the other side, "Are you awake?"

Zosia stayed silent, her heartbeat quickening slightly. Her gaze flickered to the locked door, and she held her breath, waiting.

"Auriel, it's me, Aisha," the girl continued, her tone a practiced blend of worry and sweetness.

"I was feeling thirsty and wanted to get some milk... But I don't really know my way around the house yet. I thought you might help me find the kitchen."

Zosia's grip tightened on the edge of her desk. Milk? At this hour? It was an obvious ploy, a poorly disguised attempt to get her to open the door. Aisha must have been sent to spy on her, or worse, manipulate her into another setup.

She remained quiet, not moving a muscle. The only sound was the faint hum of her laptop as it cooled down.

Zosia could almost picture Aisha's face, pressed close to the wood, straining to listen for any sign of movement inside.

Aisha's voice came again, this time with a slight edge.

"Auriel? Are you there? I just arrived today, and I don't want to get lost. Can you please help me?"

Zosia stayed still, her eyes fixed on the door as if she could see through it.

A moment of silence stretched out, and she held her breath, praying Aisha would give up and leave.

Outside, Aisha's smile faltered, her brows knitting together in frustration.

When no response came, she twisted her fingers anxiously, her pretty face contorting into a vicious snarl.

"Playing hard to get, aren't we?" she muttered under her breath, her voice no longer carrying the pretense of innocence.

Zosia, though unable to see Aisha, could sense the shift in her demeanor. She knew that behind Aisha's angelic façade was something darker, more calculating. It seemed the girl's patience was wearing thin.

After a moment, Aisha huffed softly. "Fine," she whispered to herself. "Ignore me all you want. But let's see how long you can keep this up."

She stepped away from the door, her footsteps retreating down the hall. Zosia listened intently, only relaxing when she heard the distinct sound of Aisha descending the staircase, her light steps fading into the distance.

Zosia let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Her fingers felt cold, still gripping the edge of the desk as she slowly eased back into her chair.

"That was close," she murmured to herself. She couldn't afford to let her guard down for even a moment.

She could have played along but this wouldn't follow the host wishes and her score would be lower.

Whatever game Aisha was playing, she was clearly determined to draw Zosia into it. And from the look of it, this was only the beginning.

"Sigh! I may have to leave earlier. By morning, it wouldn't hurt to check out some houses."

According to the host's memories, her grandfather came back in the evening and believed that he had wronged his granddaughter by putting all his love on an imposter, he immediately had Auriel sent out of the house, along with her properties.

He didn't care if Auriel lived or died the moment he sent her out of the house.

He even proposed setting up a big welcome banquet for Aisha.

Due to her grandfather's attitude, you could guess the attitudes of those aristocrats.

After a month, Aisha also convinced them to stop Auriel from attending the same school as hers, as she felt it was a disgrace to her.

As for how she convinced them to expel her from school, she had no idea.

"Luckily, I am currently doing my graduation thesis, if I can rush it up and have it done by the end of this week, I'd only have to wait for graduation to collect my certificate." Zosia muttered.

Knowing that Aisha might not want to see her graduate, Zosia felt the need to get some support.

As for who that support would be? It's the Host's father.

Despite the poor relationship between them, it wasn't to the point of being uncaring.

Maybe while giving him the evidence, she could ask him to help secure her graduation and destroy Aisha's influence on it.

Taking a deep breath, she decided to finish checking out the inconsistencies.

The dark room was illuminated only by the soft glow of Zosia's laptop screen as she leaned closer, scrutinizing the details. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, her brows knitted in concentration.

The website on her screen was a dark web marketplace, infamous for illegal services including hitmen for hire.

She pulled up the photographs Damian had thrown onto the table, placing them beside her laptop for comparison.

The timestamps, usernames, and chat interfaces all appeared genuine at first glance, but Zosia was no amateur.

Her skills with technology went far beyond the average user; it was one of the reasons she had been sought after in her previous life.

The first discrepancy she noticed was subtle but significant.

The screenshots Damian presented had timestamps formatted in a military style, using a 24- hour clock format.

However, the actual website she had pulled up used a standard 12-hour format with AM/PM indicators. It was a detail most would overlook, but not someone like Zosia.

The inconsistency was clear: whoever had fabricated the evidence didn't know the website's actual interface.

"Sloppy work," Zosia muttered under her breath, a small smirk tugging at her lips. She quickly snapped her own screenshots, saving them to a hidden folder on her laptop.

This was her first piece of evidence, but she knew she needed more. This kind of evidence could be easily disproved.

As she navigated through the dark web portal, she noticed another glaring difference.

The font style and size on the actual website didn't match the ones in the printed screenshots Damian had provided.

The real site used a sleek, minimalistic font designed for discretion, while the ones in the evidence pictures were bulkier, almost cartoonish.

It was a subtle design choice difference, but one that stood out to someone with her eye for detail.

Zosia leaned back, tapping a finger on her chin. "It's almost like whoever made these wanted to make the site look more intimidating than it actually is," she mused.

It suggested the involvement of someone who wasn't just trying to frame her but wanted to make it believable enough for non-tech-savvy people like her father to fall for it.

She decided to dig deeper.

Accessing the website's backend required skills and a specialized access code, the kind only a seasoned hacker—or someone with the right connections—could possess.

Zosia's fingers flew over the keyboard as she tapped into the server logs, searching for traces of the alleged chat logs Damian had shown.

"There," she whispered triumphantly.

The IP addresses linked to the conversations in Damian's evidence didn't match the actual log records of the site.

In fact, the IP used in the screenshot logs was a masked VPN linked to a public library in a nearby town.

It was a classic tactic used by amateurs trying to hide their tracks. However, the real logs showed no trace of such a conversation involving her username or any access from her known locations.

Zosia's mind raced with possibilities. Someone had gone through the trouble of faking this evidence, but who? Damian's smirk during dinner replayed in her mind, his almost-too-eager expression when presenting the photos. He seemed prepared, almost expecting Ashton to confront her without hesitation.

Was this all his doing? Or was he merely a pawn in a larger game?

Zosia decided to recreate the fake chat to verify her suspicions.

She opened a sandbox program on her laptop, a safe environment for experimenting without risking exposure.

Carefully, she replicated the chat interface using the fake fonts and timestamp formats.

It took her only a few minutes to mimic the exact screenshots Damian had produced.

She stared at the two images side by side: one from the evidence, the other her own replica.

They were indistinguishable from each other, except for one small detail she intentionally altered—the positioning of a single comma.

If she could recreate it so easily, so could anyone with basic coding skills.

Zosia took a deep breath, pushing away a wave of frustration.

It was clear now that the entire setup was fabricated, designed to look like she had orchestrated a hit on Aisha.

But what didn't make sense was why. Was it just to get her out of the house, or was there a deeper motive? And how had Damian gotten his hands on such supposedly damning evidence so quickly?

She navigated back to the dark web's message board, pulling up a hidden directory that housed archived chat logs.

Zosia knew most people didn't even realize these logs were saved beyond a user's session.

After a few minutes of scrolling through the logs from the supposed timeframe of the chats in Damian's evidence, she found something interesting.

The username implicated in the screenshot logs was a slight misspelling of her known alias, "Aurielle_Queen," but the fake chat used "Auriell_Queen"—missing an 'e'.

It was a minor error, one that most wouldn't notice. She copied the logs and added them to her growing file of inconsistencies.

Whoever set her up knew about her alias but made a critical spelling mistake, suggesting they weren't as familiar with her as they claimed.

Zosia's heart raced as she saved the files onto a secure USB.

This was her lifeline, her proof of innocence. But she knew she couldn't confront her father with it just yet.

Ashton's mind was clouded with suspicion, and presenting this now might only solidify his resolve to keep her under house arrest. No, she needed a plan.

She closed her laptop and slipped the USB into her space.

Since she had gotten the evidence that she needed, it was time to sleep.

She had to sleep well to allow her soul to adapt faster, since she couldn't cultivate.

Laying down on the bed, the moment her head hit the pillow, she immediately slept off.

Such sleeping ability is so envious.