Eldritch Horror Theatre

"Alright, time is precious. Let's begin."

Amid Fu Qian's silent musings, Xu Meng checked his watch and delivered the classic line.

"Sure."

Given the situation, Fu Qian stood up with cheerful readiness, looking for all the world as if he had just been invited to cut a ribbon at a grand opening.

How does this guy's brain even work?

His reaction left the two bodyguards momentarily dumbfounded.

Half a second later, their shock skyrocketed tenfold.

"Do you have any idea what's going to happen to you?"

Certain that Fu Qian was merely putting on a brave face, Xu Meng sneered.

Fu Qian asked casually.

"It will go like this."

In a voice dripping with menace, Xu Meng stood up and began unbuttoning his coat, followed by his shirt... and then his trousers...

His movements were so fluid and natural that the two bodyguards were entirely stupefied, unsure whether they should try to stop him.

Their conversation had already drawn some attention. With this sudden development, gasps erupted from the surrounding crowd, and a few onlookers covertly started snapping pictures.

Naturally, the onlookers had no idea what the group had been discussing. To them, it just looked like a few words had been exchanged before one of the men suddenly started stripping.

Xu Meng seemed completely oblivious to the commotion. In less than half a minute, he stripped himself entirely bare, turned, and walked toward the adjacent Plaza with the solemn expression of a pilgrim.

"Why are you looking at me? Go after him."

Facing the dumbstruck bodyguards, Fu Qian sighed.

"It's full of amateur photographers out there."

The bodyguards jolted, finally realizing the severity of the situation. Abandoning their original assignment, they sprinted off in pursuit.

President Xu, however, seemed to be deeply in his element. Even with the two men trying to intercept him, he vaulted walls and darted through alleys, only getting caught when his stamina finally gave out.

"An aging steed in the stable still aspires to gallop a thousand miles."

With that word of praise, Fu Qian decided this side quest was officially complete. He stood up and left the scene.

...

Before Fu Qian even reached home, Young Master Qin called him.

He casually answered it, but for the first thirty seconds, the other end of the line was completely silent.

"You really are..."

After a long pause, Young Master Qin's heavy sigh finally came through.

"That incident just now... you were there, weren't you?"

"You mean Xu Meng? Did it spread that fast?"

Fu Qian naturally wasn't bored enough to play dumb.

"Obviously. An ordinary guy streaking through a busy commercial district would make major news, let alone a public figure like him,"

Qin Mingze grumbled.

"So what's the narrative circulating in your circles?"

"The grief of losing his son, coupled with long-term stress, finally caused him to snap mentally."

Young Master Qin sighed.

"Sounds pretty reasonable."

Fu Qian offered his critique, inwardly impressed.

See? In a mature, rational society, there was absolutely no need to worry about being exposed.

Even if he flew a sword straight down the street, someone would just debunk the "magic trick" and scientifically explain that he'd stuffed the blade with smokeless coal.

"I guess. Though I find it hard to believe losing his son could break him that badly. More importantly, why were you there?"

Young Master Qin clearly didn't care about the actual cause.

"I haven't been back in a while, so I ended up wandering over there. Did someone recognize me?"

Fu Qian explained casually.

"Doesn't Xu Meng have two bodyguards with him? Plus, it's no secret that he wanted to take his anger out on you. He was there looking for you, wasn't he?"

"Yeah. Not only did he line up two bodyguards for me, but he also said he was going to hire a good photographer for me."

"Unbelievable..."

Young Master Qin clicked his tongue.

"Well, there you go. Now there are at least hundreds of amateur photographers on the street preserving his glamour shots. I guess it's true that Many Injustices Bring Self-Destruction."

Why does that last phrase feel a bit pointed?

Fu Qian looked up at the sky, reflecting on everything he had done over the past few days.

"Of course, I know you wouldn't have anything to do with this... But I have to say, your dumb luck is incredible. Not only did you walk away unscathed, but you also got front-row seats to a famous entrepreneur's striptease."

"Just don't say I didn't warn you. Once that guy snaps out of it, it won't just be displaced anger anymore. If he decides to drop all pretenses, you'll most likely have to leave town and lay low for a while."

"It's fine. That's assuming he snaps out of it."

"What do you mean?"

Qin Mingze didn't quite understand.

"Nothing. Just keep an eye on things for me, would you?"

Fu Qian didn't offer any further explanation. In truth, Young Master Qin was clearly more eager for the drama than genuinely worried; he gossiped for a bit longer before finally hanging up.

...

Naturally, the incident earlier had been Fu Qian's doing.

With his current abilities, let alone face-to-face, even projecting the mental command to streak remotely would require next to no effort.

And his comment about the man not snapping out of it wasn't baseless, either.

President Xu was an elite of his generation—decisive and ruthless. Under normal circumstances, no matter how great the shock, he could likely force himself to process the humiliation of streaking through the streets and still turn his sights toward revenge.

But given that his mental pathways already harbored a hidden affliction, he might not be capable of overcoming such a severe psychological breach.

Excessive greed was bad for one's physical and mental health. The man had tried to have it all, and as a result, the mental influence placed upon him hadn't been dispelled.

And naturally, Fu Qian had no intention of giving him a second chance.

Hopefully, the man was resilient enough. Otherwise, a father-and-son reunion was the only thing awaiting him.

...

Having tied up those loose ends, it was already getting dark by the time Fu Qian returned home.

He still had no intention of clocking in, however. Instead, he took the groceries he had picked up on the way and earnestly set about cooking dinner.

His recent experiences had heavily influenced his culinary standards, and he had learned quite a lot.

After skillfully turning his ingredients into one dish and one soup, Fu Qian sat down in utter satisfaction to enjoy his meal.

Once he had his fill, he even took the time to take out the trash.

Even after finishing his chores, Fu Qian still didn't activate his Imprint. Instead, he flipped on the TV.

Unsurprisingly, there were no news broadcasts covering the streaking incident from that afternoon.

Instead, two seemingly familiar experts were bouncing off each other on a panel, debating the topic of personal privacy and, in a rare turn of events, actually reaching a consensus.

After watching them for a while, Fu Qian felt his own argumentative skills leveling up.

It was a dull but ordinary night, but right as midnight struck, Fu Qian, curled up on the couch, noticed something was wrong.

A familiar sensation washed over him. Without him doing a single thing, the lights in his vision abruptly dimmed—he was being forcibly pulled into the Warehouse.

So there really is a limit to how long I can slack off?

Still, this was fundamentally a good thing. If he were ever trapped in a special situation with extreme restrictions that prevented him from entering the Warehouse voluntarily, this would act as an auto-triggered escape mechanism.

As Fu Qian silently cataloged this new application of his privileges, a system prompt chimed in his ears.

[Today's work shift has begun. Entering Containment Scenario 1-039, Unseen Hill.]

[Current SAN Value: 42. Current inspiration: 99.]

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