Eldritch Horror Theatre

"It really is... full of surprises!"

Despite the sudden attack, Mask seemed in surprisingly good spirits. Clicking his tongue, he studied the monster that, even with both legs snapped, still fought to crawl toward him.

Of course, given that its face was mangled beyond recognition, there wasn't much information to be gleaned.

"A staff member, maybe even a junior supervisor."

Even so, Mask quickly reached a conclusion.

"He had his own private office, after all."

The corpse wore researcher's clothes, so Mask's judgment made sense. His dry joke, however, failed to land; the team didn't even pretend to humor him.

The only sound in the room was the expressionless Red Dragon moving a nearby cabinet, preparing to repeat his old trick and pin this guy down.

"Guansi, what do you think?"

Fu Qian, meanwhile, was thoughtfully examining the bloodstained sedatives in his hand.

He and Red Dragon had just flanked the creature, taking out one knee each.

Facing Mask's question, he pondered for a few seconds before nodding earnestly.

"Nice figure."

...

His assessment clearly carried more shock value than the sudden attack. For a moment, no one made a sound.

"Don't you agree?"

Fu Qian looked surprised.

"In all fairness, he's a bit skinny, but the proportions are great."

There was definitely something wrong with this guy's head!

The thought echoed collectively through the team. Even Mask couldn't help but cough lightly and seek a second opinion.

"Qing, what do you make of this?"

"I agree with your assessment."

Madam Qing was still refreshingly reliable.

She nodded while helping Red Dragon pin the corpse down.

"This guy was likely a relatively high-level researcher."

"He also has a gunshot wound to the head. Combined with the state of the room, it's easy to assume he committed suicide out of fear."

"But I don't know if you noticed—there are no weapons anywhere in the room, and the door was left open."

Qing pointed around the room.

As the pervasive colors turned bright red, more than half the room was already enveloped in a fluorescent glow.

Just as she said, there were no traces of a gun on the desk or anywhere else.

"You could argue someone came in after he died and took the weapon, but what if there's another possibility? What if he didn't commit suicide, but someone rushed in, shot him, and took something?"

"Access privileges?"

Red Dragon, having just finished his heavy lifting, blinked in sudden realization.

"Yes, for high-level access privileges. We might be dealing with a fully armed team again. Not necessarily the original one, but with a similar goal—like a cleanup crew deployed after the incident broke out."

"Makes sense. Fortunately, I've never been an optimist."

Red Dragon stared blankly for a second before bursting into laughter.

"Judging by the current situation, they clearly haven't solved the problem, right? Which means whatever they're looking for is probably still here."

"Yes, which is why we need to move. This place is too close to the source; the pollution is accumulating much faster now."

Qing glanced at her feet, which were already sparkling with fluorescence from contact with the floor.

"Agreed."

Mask's response was extremely decisive.

"We don't have the luxury of delaying anyway. Listen."

As if on cue, an inhuman wail echoed from outside. The room was clearly no longer safe.

The team had no further objections and immediately gathered their gear.

However, just as the group cautiously slipped out of the room and stepped into the Corridor—which looked like something out of a magical castle under the fluorescent glow...

"Good luck to you all."

Fu Qian, who had been unconsciously relegated to the back of the group due to his bizarre commentary, suddenly waved a hand and offered his blessing.

"Guansi, you..."

Realizing what he had just said, Red Dragon lost his ability to form sentences.

You were the one who suggested waiting for the color to change before moving...

"It's too dangerous. Please allow me to desert, just this once."

Meeting their stares, Fu Qian looked perfectly composed.

"I can't help it. Being the first one out the door earlier left me with some psychological trauma."

The entire group, Mask included, was left speechless.

He wasn't wrong. Earlier, when they were hiding in the Laboratory, he was the one who had charged out first with an absolute death wish.

But precisely because of that, it was incredibly hard to believe he could suffer from psychological trauma.

"Time is tight. You better hurry."

After delivering a smiling reminder, Fu Qian ignored their reactions, broke away from the team, and walked off.

"Let's keep going. In a place this bizarre, Guansi might just end up being our last hope."

Watching Fu Qian's figure disappear around the corner, Mask made no move to stop him, merely offering that profound remark.

...

Retracing his steps, Fu Qian proved to be a man of his word; he seemed completely uninterested in whatever lay ahead for the team.

He actually agreed with Qing's assessment for the most part.

The person in that room probably hadn't blown his own head off.

And if there really was a cleanup crew sent in from the outside after the incident broke out, their trail would be easy to spot... like right now.

Fu Qian was currently standing in front of an elevator.

This area was undoubtedly the most lively he had seen on his way back. He could count double-digit staff members within his line of sight alone.

Theoretically speaking, pulling off a one-man army routine with his current mortal physique would be highly difficult.

Fortunately, the dense scattering of severed limbs and the brains splattered everywhere indicated that they had already been butchered.

It seemed to perfectly verify the theory about the cleanup crew.

He could take advantage of their handiwork, tracing their path backward to reach the surface with minimal resistance.

His mind made up, Fu Qian didn't hesitate. He took the elevator up and followed the trail of severed limbs and spilled brains in reverse.

Eventually, after turning down an unfamiliar route and walking a considerable distance, he surprisingly found himself on the surface.

So there really was a shortcut? Professional!

Fu Qian praised inwardly.

Active bodies could still be seen roaming the street in twos and threes, but avoiding them wasn't too difficult.

Looking at the research building in the distance, Fu Qian—who had just successfully escaped—actually stepped forward and threw himself back into the net.

"He really isn't here..."

A moment later, after opening a familiar door once more, Fu Qian let out a sigh.

This was the Laboratory where Henry had been found. But this time, Oliver, who should have been spacing out inside, was nowhere to be seen.

So the office the team entered just now really was Oliver's? No wonder the sensation of smashing his knees had felt so familiar.

...

Fu Qian toyed with the sedatives in his hand.

That was right. The reason he had praised the monster's figure earlier was because the mangled corpse had looked familiar, and even the feeling of striking its knees was seemingly familiar.

If that really was Oliver, the implications were a bit disturbing—getting shot in the head in his own office, instead of sneaking out to look at a cat, practically proved that these two instances of red did not belong to the same timeline.

They were just very similar, or rather, disguised to look very similar.

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