Eldritch Horror Theatre

What rapid flip-flopping.

From his expression to his words, Buyiren's reaction in that moment was worth pondering.

For Fu Qian, decoding the underlying meaning was effortless—Buyiren was laying his cards on the table. He was done pretending. Everything earlier had just been a game to mess with him.

In truth, his goal from the very beginning had been to escort Fu Qian to the office.

Coming on the heels of the wrong date, this was undoubtedly another piece of terrible news.

Counting from the moment he first called out to stop him, the sheer whiplash of Buyiren's shifting stances was enough to snap a man's spine.

First an impartial staff member, then a righteous rebel fighting from the shadows, and now a treacherous, cunning hound...

Leading him in circles, dangling hope only to push the date back—was all of this just the "game" he had spoken of? Was it all just to see his reaction in this very moment?

Even the mystery of why he had skipped over number 53 suddenly had a seamless explanation—Buyiren had never intended to send him out at all.

Of course, this was still just a highly probable guess based on the man's reactions; it was far too early to draw a definitive conclusion.

For instance, this could just be another step in his rapid flip-flopping. He claimed he was taking him to the Head Physician's Office, hinting that someone was waiting there to watch a joke unfold.

But in reality, he might have prepared eight or ten strippers to keep him from getting bored over the next twenty-odd hours.

All in all, this was simply—fantastic.

Not the strippers, of course, but the Director.

Ever since he walked out that door, everything unfolding before him had been a two-man show with the Director. Fu Qian had never lost sight of that core theme.

Not to mention, his grand ambition upon leaving had been to control the pacing himself.

Now someone was actively responding, keeping up with the tempo of this rapid flip-flopping. Was there anything more ideal than this?

As for whether or not he actually went to the office, that was merely like the pole in a pole dance.

Crucial, but never the main point.

“Perfect timing. I just got a new outfit.”

Playing the part of a man suddenly informed he had to attend an important meeting, Fu Qian gave a slight nod and straightened his clothes, paying special attention to the collar.

His partner in this two-man show was actively responding, spinning and leaping through these rapid shifts. How could he possibly refuse to play along?

...

He really had “gotten” a new outfit.

Regardless, it was obvious that Buyiren had been highly anticipating Fu Qian's reaction.

After all, the core of any good prank was the victim's scream.

Unfortunately, this particular victim was being a bit too uncooperative.

He cooperated, sure, but not in the expected way.

Someone was waiting to meet him, so he had to look his best—there was nothing wrong with that logic on the surface.

But logically and emotionally, shouldn't he have been completely shocked? Shouldn't his eyes have burned with the resentment of being played?

If he had thrown in a deadly vow—swearing to tear Buyiren limb from limb or something along those lines—it would have been perfect.

It was even hard to interpret this as him simply feigning calmness.

Because the man had even remembered to address a tiny detail like his slightly torn collar.

For a moment, the triumphant, cards-on-the-table smile on Buyiren's face grew faintly stiff.

“That outfit does suit you...” Buyiren said. “Do you know what happened to the unlucky bastard you stole it from?”

Regardless of whether Fu Qian was feigning his composure, he was certainly putting on a convincing show of it.

Taking a deep breath, Buyiren actually played along and critiqued Fu Qian's outfit.

Not only that, but he seamlessly pivoted to gossiping about the previous victim.

“What happened to him?”

Playing the straight man here was so easy a paramecium could do it. Fu Qian immediately obliged, feigning curiosity.

All the while, the two of them never broke their stride. The harmony of the scene—like two bosom friends chatting about life—matched the atmosphere of the Sanitarium perfectly.

“He absolutely couldn't stand that outfit. He claimed the Sanitarium was abusing him.”

Buyiren's follow-up answer pushed the mood to its absolute peak.

“So much so that he showed zero gratitude to the staff who rescued him. Instead, he cursed out Servis and demanded an immediate replacement.”

...

So he had even helped the man fight for better welfare benefits?

This must be what it meant to do good deeds and ask not of the future.

Buyiren's description was incredibly vivid. Fu Qian could easily picture Mrs. Tracy's male companion, face flushed red, spit flying as he raged.

To be fair, the material of the clothes Fu Qian had been wearing wasn't half bad.

But to these upper-class socialites, it probably felt like a filthy rag that had no business touching their skin. It made sense.

But regardless of how nitpicky a person was, surviving a brush with danger shouldn't have left them fixated on their wardrobe.

From that perspective, the man's reaction was actually quite gratifying.

Yes, it might have been overly critical, but to Fu Qian, the companion's bizarre behavior proved that his mental state had remained perfectly stable.

He hadn't been overly traumatized by the sneak attack or his brief loss of freedom. He hadn't awakened the “darkness” in his heart.

Instead, he had maintained his superficial self, continuing to be as frivolous and arrogant as ever.

If he had actually undergone an Awakening, revealing the side Madam Dark Room had mentioned, the Well of Time might have flared up all over again.

“To be fair, the fabric feels pretty good against the skin. The color is a bit monotonous, though, and it would definitely be better with hidden clasps.”

Comforted by the realization, Fu Qian actively contributed to the wardrobe improvements spearheaded by Mrs. Tracy's companion, offering his own design critiques.

“I'll be sure to pass your suggestions along...”

Buyiren seemed to be genuinely experiencing what it meant to converse with the king of derailed conversations. If he wasn't careful, the topic would instantly slip in the most bizarre directions.

“It's just that Servis didn't seem to agree,” Buyiren continued. “In fact, Servis used that outburst as an excuse to detain him, claiming to be worried that he had suffered too much psychological trauma.”

Fortunately, Buyiren was slowly figuring out how to handle Fu Qian: don't get tangled up in the nonsense, just keep driving your own point home.

After all, Fu Qian appeared remarkably easygoing and wouldn't scold him for ignoring the tangents.

...

Detained by the Attending Physician? Was that why Mrs. Tracy's companion hadn't returned to his quarters?

Suddenly, things made a lot more sense.

Fu Qian really didn't mind being ignored. In fact, he found Buyiren's words quite insightful.

Things here didn't need to follow science, but they still needed to follow logic.

Buyiren had already proven that Fu Qian's escape had been discovered early on.

Yet not only was there no large-scale manhunt, but “a few days” had passed and Mrs. Tracy's companion surprisingly still hadn't returned to his quarters. That was somewhat unreasonable.

Now it seemed he simply hadn't been allowed to return. Had his actions actually forced the man into a hospital gown?

But even that wasn't the most important part. The key detail was that the one orchestrating all this was, once again, Servis.

Given Servis's status, detaining a patient wasn't out of bounds.

But when framed within the series of action scenes the Director had been setting up for him all along, Servis's actions demonstrated what could only be called ultimate cooperation.

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