Angel slipped through the living room quietly and darted into her parents' bedroom.
The room was slightly larger than Angel's, with a big wardrobe, a large window, a desk, and a dressing table. There was one major difference compared to Angel's room—it was tidy, very tidy. In contrast, Angel's room was practically a garbage dump.
Tiptoeing to the dressing table, Angel carefully took hold of the pull-ring on the storage box on the tabletop. Suddenly, the entire box moved. Angel froze in shock.
The box wasn't locked or anything—it was just small, lightweight, and the drawers lacked lubrication.
"What are you waiting for? Open it!" The devil appeared silently by Angel's ear and urged her nervously, "If you don't hurry up, your mother could come back any minute. And your father too. Want to taste their combined wrath?"
"I don't want that," Angel replied dumbly, her eyes widening.
"Then stop dawdling!" The devil was losing his patience.
