A stunned hush blanketed the office floor as white fur fluttered to the ground.

  Rico’s horrified gaze darted from the strand of wool at her feet to the gawking interns around her, then back at Yesteria. Her pupils, square and constricted with horror, snapped between the pale fuzz and her own trembling fingers, like she couldn’t decide if it was real.

  Everyone stood rooted, tension crackling in the air.

  “Rico.”

  Edris tried to move closer to remind the woman to keep calm. Her [AFFINITY] was dangerously at stake if she panicked further, and in their current state, more chaos was the last thing he wanted to ensue.

  But Rico was already past hearing.

  A strangled sound—half sob, half bleat—escaped her lips, and she staggered back, arms flailing. She clutched at her head, as though trying to keep the changes from worsening. Edris watched the swirl of fear rising in her eyes and knew he was too late.

  The Manager, who had been observing from the sidelines, frowned with professional regret.

  “You appear unwell, Intern Rico,” he declared, exuding a cool authority. “We must see you to Wellness at once.”

  “No!” she gasped, stumbling as she attempted to bolt.

  Two serpent-faced staff lunged forward with astonishing speed, clamping hold of her arms. She let out a desperate shriek, flailing in a flurry of frantic limbs—yet she only produced another pitiful bleat, more wool drifting behind her.

  Yesteria tried to intercede, but the serpentine guards blocked her with an iron-like barrier of coiled bodies. By the time she recovered from the shock, Rico was being dragged away, heels scraping the tiled floor. She pleaded in breathless gasps—nothing resembling words now, just terrified animal keening—as she vanished down the same hallway Morris had been taken.

  The interns watched in pained silence as she was dragged away, fur drifting behind her like fallen leaves. She vanished down the same corridor where Morris had been taken hours before.

  He looked to the Manager, a raw question in his stare. But the Manager merely tipped his horse muzzle in a strangely affable gesture, as if that meltdown had been nothing more than a slight office mishap. If a horse could grin, he was doing it now, long mouth curving in an unnatural line that chilled everyone looking on.

  “Now, now, interns,” he said brightly, his voice too cheery for the stifling mood. “I know it’s stressful, aiming for that full-time position.” He glanced around, and in the hush, none dared respond. “So I’m granting you all a half-day break. Perhaps a good rest is exactly what you need to calm the nerves.”

  His words fell like a hollow echo, faced with no reply.

  A few interns stared blankly at the Manager; others exchanged uneasy glances. Then, the horseman dismissed them with the flick of a hand, and they were left, once again, to cope with the aftermath of another forced departure.

  Only Terrance, Yesteria, Celio, and Edris remained.

  ***

  Night swallowed the corridors outside the intern dorm, hush pressing at the walls like a silent threat. With only four of the seven left in this Labyrinth now, their little group felt fractious at best.

  The Manager’s half-day break promise had left them in a quandary—rest, or risk assimilation by pushing themselves further?

  Edris stood near the corridor’s entrance, scanning the halls. Off to the side, Yesteria and Terrance huddled close, voices hushed. The two appeared to have formed a tenuous alliance. First, her bad blood with Rico, and then Edris’s brusque dismissal of Terrace, had nudged them together.

  He watched Terrace lean close to Yesteria, murmuring strategies to tackle tomorrow’s tasks.

  Celio joined Edris a moment later, voice subdued.

  “We’re really not going to do anything tonight?” The beast tamer’s gaze flitted between the closed dorm doors and the corridor that led to the main office.

  “No point defying the Manager when he’s explicitly given us a break,” Edris said, his tone too casual to be reassuring. “Let’s do as we’re told for once. Keep our heads clear.”

  The beast tamer shot him a look, as if saying “that’s not what you said last time,” but he swallowed the questions forming on his tongue after seeing the smile on the man’s face.

  He recognized that expression—something that spoke of nothing but trouble.

  They entered the dorm to find Terrace heading out again, apparently unwilling to waste a second of potential work time. From the corner of his eye, Edris observed Yesteria at his shoulder, hesitation clear on her face. She glanced once more at Edris’s composed figure before letting Terrace coax her out the door.

  The desperation in her posture was obvious: if she didn’t work relentlessly, she believed she’d be next to lose her [AFFINITY] or be consumed by the Labyrinth’s illusions.

  Terrace, far from dissuading her, nudged her along with quiet urgency. The look on his face showed he was fully convinced that Edris’s plan to rest was a fool’s errand.

  And indeed, from Terrace’s vantage, Edris was a lightweight—someone who didn’t know the cruel reality of overachieving interns. Before the Labyrinth and even before becoming one of Jagon’s lackeys, Terrace had been part of Odeen’s commercial cutthroat scene, a place where interns had to please superiors or vanish. Slacking off was not an option.

  He threw Edris a glance. A man like him would never survive this place.

  Yesteria, her eyes still puffy from earlier tears, clutched her arms around herself. She darted a wary look at Edris—part hostility, part uncertainty—before following Terrance out, disappearing into the corridor leading back to the office.

  “They think we’ll fall behind,” Celio said warily.

  Edris shrugged.

  “Then let them.”

  They found their bunks in the deserted row, where only an occasional overhead lamp buzzed. Edris slipped off his coat, settling in with that same collected front.

  Celio studied Edris, who was already settling onto a bunk. He blinked. “You’re just going to sleep?”

  Edris nodded, nestling back on the stiff mattress, letting his eyes drift closed. Celio hesitated, casting the dark-haired man an anxious look before lying down.

  Slowly, his eyes drifted shut.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  ***

  “Celio.”

  A cold voice snapped Celio back into awareness. He blinked in the dim dormitory light, pulse spiking before he even realized why.

  Instinctively, he glanced at the digital clock on his [PROBATION MANUAL], heart dropping at the sight of the numbers.

  11:55 PM.

  Celio rubbed the sleep from his eyes, astonished that he had dozed off at all. The [AFFINITY] drain seemed to force him into a schedule that matched these illusions of “normal work hours.”

  Down by the foot of his bed, Edris stood, stretching his shoulders in a smooth arc, pale eyes gleaming with an odd calm under the moonlit window. He glanced at him, a subtle glean in his gaze.

  “Master?” Celio said, voice still husky from half-sleep.

  In the faint glow of the hall light, he could see the half-smile on Edris’s face.

  “Time to work,” he said.

  They slipped out of the dorm, navigating the unlit passageway in silence. Neither spoke until they reached the door labeled “WELLNESS,” glowing with that usual neon haze behind its frosted glass. Celio hesitated, recalling the Manager’s warning, but Edris simply took a step back, scanning his [PROFILE] for a particular card.

  He pulled out something that shimmered faintly—a card—and pressed it in a single fluid motion.

  Immediately, the faint hush within the Wellness Center stirred. Something in the air crackled, and the next second, the echo of the Manager’s voice reverberated from Edris’s throat.

  “Employees, awaken,” came the command—the same resonant authority as if the horseman was here himself.

  A wave of confusion spread among them, but the call of the Manager’s voice overcame their own disorientation. They pressed against the fence, swaying in a chaotic formation, eyes fogged with half-awareness.

  Celio’s eyes widened as a small shiver skittered down his spine. He recalled how they’d found these workers here – mindless cogs subjected to the Labyrinth’s transformation.

  “Open the gates.”

  A rustling from within answered. In reflex, the sheep in the dorm roused themselves, bleating out the company slogan in subdued unison. Their fenced enclosure rattled as they stood on shaky hooves. With the Manager’s intangible authority slipping through Edris’s card, the sheep snapped to attention.

  One of them nudged the fence latch. At Edris’s second command – again delivered in the Manager’s timbre – a dozing worker pulled the gate open, freeing them into the hallway. Like a flooding tide, they poured out, half-fogged with drowsiness but driven by the deep-seated program that was their sole purpose in the Labyrinth.

  Some sheep shambled toward the main workspace, drifting in clusters as if uncertain of their direction. Celio watched in mute astonishment while Edris oversaw the straggling ewes, directing them with a short flick of his card each time they hesitated.

  Celio stared at the scene unfolding before his eyes, jaws dropped open.

  “They’re basically finishing our work for us…?”

  He turned to the dark-haired man, who watched the flow with cold eyes. “Master… is this okay? The Manager specifically forbade us from entering the Wellness Center.”

  Edris cast him a sidelong look.

  “We didn’t come inside, did we?”

  Indeed, they stood by the threshold of the Wellness Center, letting the sheep file past on their own.

  Celio opened his mouth but could only nod, unsettled by how easily Edris played with loopholes. Then again, the Labyrinths have taught them that every advantage was a lifeline.

  Edris gave a thin, knowing smile.

  “Full-time workers,” he added quietly, “are fated to exploitation.”

  Celio paused, struck by the bluntness of his words. Edris inclined his head, motioning down the corridor that held the departing herd. Within the crowd, he could see Terrace and Yesteria working away at their stations.

  It was as though they hadn’t noticed the irregularities at all.

  “They’re chasing after that same fate by pushing themselves relentlessly. Already rushing off to meet the Manager’s standards.” Edris said. “But in reality, they haven’t even passed the probation period. Hurling themselves into overwork will only speed up their assimilation.”

  Celio blinked, realizing the implications behind his words.

  “Not to mention…”

  Edris’s attention flicked to his [PROFILE], scanning the same repeated [MAIN QUEST].

  “If the countdown resets every time somebody or nobody passes, when will it stop?”

  Celio frowned. “If each pass or failure resets it… until everyone’s turned into sheep or somehow passes?”

  The dark-haired man shook his head, and Celio immediately understood why. Even he didn’t think the Labyrinth would be so gracious as to allow every player to have their turn.

  “This Labyrinth’s system resets every time someone passes or nobody does,” he said, flicking through the card usage logs on his [PROFILE]. “Our abilities restore, tasks ramp up, we go in circles. Doesn’t that strike you as suspicious?”

  Was the Labyrinth really turning back time? Did it really have enough authority to alter the player [PROFILE] and system countdown? Has the system already become this powerful?

  “There’s something more to this place.”

  Celio nodded slowly, a sigh escaping his lips. The beast tamer’s gaze drifted to his own reflection in a nearby glass pane, noticing how pale, wool-like strands interspersed with his golden hair.

  “But what should we do?” He frowned. “Every time we reset, this clock just snaps back, taking us to the same contract. There’s only resets, no real progress…”

  At his words, Edris’s lips curled into a faint, distant smile. He watched as the last of the sheep disappeared down the corridor, fanning out to handle the printers and cleaning tasks.

  “Resets, huh…” He turned to the beast tamer. “Have you noticed something about each reset?”

  At his question, Celio tilted his head. Ignoring the boy’s look of confusion, Edris continued.

  “It may seem like a complete reset at first, but when you recall the specifics, you begin to notice things,” he said. “Tell me, Celio. Where did we end up in the first one?”

  Celio blinked. “The first time, we ended up at the moment when the deer-staffer introduced the place.”

  “And the second?”

  “The second time…” The boy pondered out loud. “It sent us to the instant we received the contract—”

  Celio froze, the flicker of realization crossing his face. He replayed each cycle in his mind, mentally mapping out exactly when and where they had reappeared. His eyes widened.

  “We skipped parts, leaps in the timeline,” Edris said calmly.

  “You’re right!” He breathed. “I’d never put it together before. We’ve been going back to progressively later points!”

  Edris nodded. “We also know the Labyrinth is typically rigid – yes, it’s brutal and cunning, but it doesn’t just break its own operating rules on a whim. In other words, this… rewriting of our [PROFILE] counters and countdowns shouldn’t be possible with conventional Labyrinth logic.”

  He angled his head, gaze steady on the golden-haired boy.

  Celio swallowed, trying to process the weight of that statement. “You’re saying the Labyrinth can’t actually rewrite time like this?”

  “Likely. It only feels like a perfect loop because it’s feeding us repeating scenarios to keep the entire system ‘stable.’ But there’s a gap.” Edris flicked strands of fur off his coat. “Tell me, how do you know every time the cycle restarts?”

  “Well, for one, the countdown always resets,” Celio replied. “Our [MAIN QUEST] updates to ‘Become an official worker…’ or whatever.”

  “And when would that happen?”

  “The start of the day, after signing the contract…”

  Celio sucked in a breath as he realized the implications behind his words. “So you mean…!”

  “The so-called [MAIN QUEST] in this Labyrinth only reveals itself after we sign the contract, and each time we reenter the cycle, time skips forward a little more than the last." Edris had spoken cooly, but the direness of his words were impossible to ignore. “What do you think happens once we reach the point of the cycle where we’ve already signed the contract?”

  “The Labyrinth is trying to keep us distracted with the fake [MAIN QUEST], misguiding us to become full-time workers in this... illusion.” Celio mumbled, then snapped his head up. “So if each cycle keeps skipping forward like that—”

  “Sooner or later, we'll miss our chance to find the real way out.”

  Edris’s words were like the weights of revelation, mercilessly pressed into his thoughts. Celio gulped. The Labyrinths have always been oppressive, but this took that sense of urgency and magnified it.

  It was a race against time—and theirs was running out.