Eldritch Horror Theatre

‘So my theory was right?’

Watching the enraged Sato, Fu Qian confirmed his theory.

The exchange just now had not been the simple venting of a frustrated corporate drone, but two distinct, diametrically opposed probes.

Now Fu Qian understood the true meaning of the task’s requirement to “stick to his post.” It didn't mean he actually had to work; it meant he had to make everyone else believe he was working.

That applied to the Head-Carrying Woman, the middle-aged man at the neighboring desk, and Sato right in front of him.

Without a doubt, every single one of them was deeply abnormal.

Yet they were clearly oblivious to their own conditions.

It was a fragile state, its balance easily broken.

If his behavior had given them any reason for doubt or confusion, that ignorance would likely shatter into self-awareness.

Considering his current mortal flesh, it would essentially trigger an instant death flag.

That was the true peril of this assignment.

As for what might upset that balance, Fu Qian could rattle off a dozen examples without trying.

Reminding the Head-Carrying Woman about her severed head, for instance.

Or the middle-aged man, who had clearly found Fu Qian's rare tardiness bizarre. If Fu Qian hadn't provided a watertight excuse, he likely would have triggered a mutation in him as well.

After vaguely grasping this rule, Fu Qian had tested the waters by throwing a line at Sato that would be unthinkable in any normal workplace. Sure enough, the supervisor had reacted abnormally.

The forceful retort he followed up with, though hostile, perfectly fit the scenario. It offered a logical explanation for his behavior: he was acting aggressively out of fear of becoming a scapegoat.

That had instantly defused Sato's tendency to mutate, shifting the man's attention solely onto his subordinate's outrageous insubordination.

So, while the current situation appeared incredibly tense, it was actually quite safe.

Come to think of it, the notion that the core of a job wasn't the actual work, but rather making everyone else believe you were working, made a surprising amount of sense. It was practically the Zen state of slacking off.

Fu Qian let his thoughts drift as he admired Sato's apoplectic expression.

“Get out.”

After venting his rage, Sato seemed to realize that throwing a tantrum was a bad look. He pondered for a moment before kicking Fu Qian out.

‘He calmed down that fast?’

Truthfully, Fu Qian would have preferred to stay.

Whether it came to blows or not, staying inside meant he only had to deal with this one supervisor.

Once he stepped outside, there would be a lot more than one pair of eyes watching him.

Unfortunately, he couldn't find a valid excuse to remain. If he grabbed an ashtray and smashed it into the man's face, he probably wouldn't be able to talk his way out of it.

So, without another word, Fu Qian turned and left.

...

Stepping out of Sato's office, Fu Qian found the rest of the staff with their heads bowed, looking hard at work. The middle-aged man at the next desk practically had his head shoved under it.

The only person acting completely unfazed was the young woman who had arrived at the same time he did.

Sporting a ring of gruesome wounds around her neck, she was observing him from the corner of her eye, seemingly viewing him in a new light.

Unfortunately for her, Fu Qian ignored her completely and walked straight back to his cubicle.

Under the current circumstances, he needed to minimize all interaction—including eye contact—to avoid drawing suspicion.

His dismissal earned a cold snort from the woman, who turned her head away.

“You’ve got some serious guts!”

Fu Qian had barely enjoyed a few minutes of peace after sitting down before his older coworker spoke up.

Judging from his wistful tone, the man greatly admired Fu Qian's stunt.

“Sato was so pissed his voice actually squeaked. But then again, the bastard had it coming.”

“You better watch your back, though. The guy is incredibly petty!”

“It’s fine.”

Although no anomalies had manifested on the man's face, Fu Qian offered a casual response to avoid rousing suspicion.

“I never let today's worries ruin tomorrow.”

...

His answer left the man speechless. A moment later, the older coworker let out a long sigh, a gleam in his eyes.

“Ah, the carefree life of a bachelor!”

His voice was laced with infinite longing.

“Back in the day, I used to be just as wild and rebellious. Then, one day, I ran into a little thing called love...”

“Next thing I knew, it was mortgages, insurance, baby formula, diapers, and after-school tutoring. By the time I looked back...”

Fu Qian tuned out whatever the man said next.

However, during his coworker's muttered lament, Fu Qian noticed more than a few colleagues subtly nodding along, looking deeply sympathetic.

‘Just as I thought. They look like they're minding their own business, but they're all eavesdropping, aren't they?’

Fu Qian had no interest in judging the right or wrong of a middle-aged man's post-honeymoon regrets. Instead, he smelled danger.

While his earlier stunt had neutralized the potential crisis involving Ito, it had inevitably drawn a massive wave of attention.

There was no telling when the police would finally arrive, and sitting here in the meantime was undoubtedly risky!

Speaking of the police, he still couldn't quite figure out why they were coming in the first place.

While mulling this over, Fu Qian didn't sit idle. He quickly rummaged through the items on his desk.

The most prominent object was an old desktop computer. Fu Qian tried turning it on, but it was completely dead, its black screen merely reflecting his own face.

In fact, his computer wasn't the only one. Looking around from his seat, he saw more than a few colleagues staring intensely at completely blank screens, supposedly hard at work.

‘This slacking atmosphere is seriously bizarre!’

Fu Qian shifted his gaze to the black telephone sitting next to the monitor.

He didn't even bother picking up the receiver to check for a dial tone. At a glance, he could see that the phone line in the back had already been severed.

‘This office just gets creepier the closer you look!’

Fu Qian glanced toward the main entrance, debating whether he should take a paid bathroom break to kill some time.

‘If I'm going to slack off, I might as well do it right!’

Fu Qian was undeniably a man of action. After a brief moment of thought, he made up his mind.

Yet the moment he casually stood up, he felt dozens of eyes instantly lock onto him.

‘Are you all seriously slacking off? At least pretend to work hard!’

Under the intense scrutiny of the entire office, Fu Qian strolled naturally toward the entrance, only to freeze a moment later.

A tall, brown-haired woman in a black uniform was standing by the elevators, looking around.

‘The police are already here?’

Fu Qian's gaze swept across her slightly freckled face before dropping to her side.

The female officer's left arm hung at an unnatural angle, and he could faintly make out traces of something resembling fresh blood on it.

‘Why do I get the feeling she isn't here to solve a problem, but to bring one directly to us?’

Fu Qian subtly averted his gaze, avoiding eye contact. However, seeing the office door open, the female officer marched straight over to him.

“Did someone here call the police?”

She stood slightly sideways, intentionally or otherwise keeping her injured left hand hidden behind her back.

“Yes, right inside,”

Fu Qian replied with a nod.

“Alright.”

The female officer gave a curt, serious nod. Without another word, she brushed past Fu Qian and stepped into the office.

Click!

But in the very next instant, a cold metal ring snapped tightly around Fu Qian's left wrist.

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