LABYRINTH 24.

  Edris stood in the middle of the office, aware of every flicker of light on the polished floor and every muted keystroke from the sheep-headed workers at their desks. Their soulless chanting echoed like the hum of malfunctioning machinery.

  A physical contract lay in his hands, but his eyes kept drifting to the space where Tesler ought to have been.

  The others—Yesteria, Celio, Morris, Rico, and Terrace—were all still there, but Tesler was notably gone, supposedly “promoted” from this absurdity.

  Six interns were left. The number seemed to hang in the air with quiet menace. Nothing else seemed amiss on the surface, but he knew they’d entered a cycle.

  His gaze flicked to the contract resting in his hand. The same worn paper, the same blank space that awaited his name.

  The Labyrinth had reset, and with it, the [MAIN QUEST] and the time limit.

  Amidst organizing his thoughts, he saw from the corner of his eye that some had already finished signing. Edris quietly observed as Terrace, looking visibly rattled, stepped up to the Manager and slapped down his own signed contract.

  “I will go to work now.”

  Without saying more, he dashed off to his work station. The Manager said nothing, just wearing that same plastic smile. The memory of the last cycle clearly weighed on him, forcing the man to move quickly, as though outrunning a shadow.

  Terrace’s sense of urgency was to be expected. After all, it was because of their low efficiency in the last cycle that had cost them the chance of advancing on to becoming a full-pledged worker.

  Celio caught the gesture and looked over.

  “Master, should we… get to work too?” he asked.

  Edris let his gaze linger on Terrace’s retreating figure. If it was like last time, with only one person completing probation at a time, then they were racing against both time and each other.

  Nodding, Edris leaned over and signed his name on the contract with a brisk flourish.

  As soon as the pen left the paper, a subtle jolt pricked at his consciousness—on his [PROFILE], a new message flared:

  And below it, the countdown timer began anew, ticking downward with maddening persistence.

  Edris noticed that the usage limits for [OMNIKEY] and [BLAZING TORRENT] were also reset. This meant he might still rely on these abilities if the situation grew dire. Still, he did not desire to repeat the fiasco with the Manager unless absolutely necessary.

  Without ceremony, he traced his way back to the printing station he’d manned in the last cycle. To his grim satisfaction, the next wave of tasks dwarfed the last. A heavy stack of paperwork greeted him there, double the volume from before.

  The corners of his mouth tightened at the sight.

  It wasn’t just the timeline that restarted. The difficulty seemed to also rampup each time.

  If they dallied, the tasks would keep compounding, until eventually it would be impossible for them to finish in time.

  Without saying more, Edris slammed a new ream of paper into the screaming printer. The machine emitted a shrill, high-pitched squeal again—a terrifying echo of last time—but he merely pounded its top with an expressionless face, quieting it. Pages began to spew out in a frenzy.

  All around him, the others were similarly consumed by tasks.

  Rico was up on a ladder, washing windows with a tired look. Yesteria, this time, had a trays of cups, presumably preparing coffee for the Manager and every other staff membership. Her eyes were raw with frustration, but she forced a polite smile each time she handed out a cup.

  Celio was dragging a cart of folding chairs to the conference area. Morris seemed locked in a near-endless cycle of rearranging the massive office library by color code—an utterly pointless job, yet one apparently essential to “company synergy.”

  Terrace, though, had it worst of all. He had been assigned to man the phones, which now seemed to ring every three minutes rather than the previous ten.

  There was frantic urgency in his posture as he scribbled notes, transferring calls from the main workspace to the Manager or the Wellness Center.

  Edris swallowed down the faint stir of pity, focusing instead on the printer’s shriek. It emitted a high-pitched whine that grated like nails on glass, so he slammed a firm fist on its top. The machine rattled, cough-spitting another dozen sheets into the tray.

  A wave of warm air brushed his face—like the reek of burnt rubber. He thought of the previous cycle’s flames for a fleeting moment, but pushed the memory aside.

  Then Edris heard it—footsteps drifting by, accompanied by hushed voices. Two sheep employees were trudging through the corridor that connected the main office to the neon-lit hallway beyond.

  Last cycle, Edris had only caught glimpses of them, hearing muted bleats. This time, though, their voices came through clear.

  “I’m fine, I promise,” the first sheep insisted, voice trembling. “Really, I feel better now. Just… let me return to my station, okay?”

  The second sheep shook her head, the bells on her uniform clinking softly. “You’re too exhausted. Manager’s orders: no overwork. If we don’t heed it, we get lost here. Don’t risk it.”

  Edris paused, his hands halting the next batch of printing. The unexpected lucidity of their conversation startled him.

  Since when could he understand them?

  He turned slightly, peering past the thrumming printer at the two sheep. Their wool looked singed at the edges—yet another vestige of the cycle no one was supposed to recall—and the fear on the first sheep’s face was undeniable.

  The pair glided by, but not before Edris spotted the sheer panic under the first sheep’s woolly mask.

  Her muzzle looked oddly human in shape, as though her features were shifting beneath an illusion. She threw a last, terrified glance around, then vanished into the neon-lit hallway. The door creaked closed behind them, leaving Edris with a hollow sense of foreboding.

  As the shrill phone from Terrace’s station rang out again, and the hammered keys of a thousand undead office workers echoed in the background, Edris refocused on the endless stack of printing.

  He narrowed his eyes.

  What exactly happens in this “Wellness” Center?

  ***

  Night draped the labyrinthine halls of Archive X, pressing on every corner with a still hush.

  The office no longer hummed with frantic work; most interns still lingered, refusing to leave, but there was a distinct drop in volume as tasks wound down.

  Edris fed the last sheaf of documents into the disgruntled printer and breathed out slowly. A dozen sheets spat out in a flurry, each one signifying a step closer to completing his quota for the day. The clock’s hands pointed well past the usual dormitory curfew.

  Across the space, other interns were hunched over their tasks, refusing to budge even though it was time to head for the dormitory.

  It was to be expected. One slip, one missed task, and they would have to undergo the cycle all over again—no one wanted part in a third cycle.

  But Edris would not be joining them in the overtime. He slid out from behind the desk, shutting off the battered printer with a silent flick of a switch. Celio, whose gaze had been drifting from monitor to hallway, quickly fell behind him.

  “Master, should we call it a night?” the beast tamer asked, voice low. “I mean… last time, resting gave us something, didn’t it?”

  Edris rolled the tension from his shoulders, gathering himself.

  “There are more important things than rest,” he replied.

  He left the main floor quietly, weaving between dark cubicles and stepping out into the dim corridors beyond. The golden-haired boy trickled after him.

  The hallway felt eerily quiet, only the distant hum of sleeping monitors and the mechanical whir of server fans filling the silence.

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  Celio’s beast-tamer senses guided them in the darkness, leading their steps.

  Midway through one deserted hallway, he paused abruptly.

  “Wait,” he whispered, turning to Edris. “We’re allowed to explore, right? This isn’t in the manual, but I…”

  “If it’s not prohibited, it’s allowed," Edris said matter-of-factly. "Until they outright forbid it, assume it’s fair game.”

  The corners of Celio’s mouth twitched in a grin. “As expected from Master!”

  They rounded a corner, the fluorescent lights above them flickering intermittently.

  A neon glow caught their eye at the far end of a corridor, the words “WELLNESS CENTER” etched into a frosted glass door. The letters glowed faintly, bathing the hallway in a surreal pastel light.

  Edris’s footsteps paused. He remembered glimpses of this place from the last cycle, but he’d only had the opportunity to examine it from the outside.

  As they crept closer, Celio froze.

  “Someone’s here,” he murmured. He threw out an arm protectively in front of Edris. “Show yourself!”

  A shape materialised from the shadows—Morris, gray-haired and worn, wearing the same worn uniform as before. His eyes met Edris’s, and he gave a curt nod.

  “So I’m not the only one investigating.”

  Celio relaxed upon recognizing the familiar face. He raised the [OMNIKEY] Edris had entrusted to him and stepped toward the door, but Morris raised a hand to stop him.

  “Wait. Let’s check first.”

  From his coat, Morris produced a small card shining with pale light—[PENETRATE]. A ripple spread through the door, turning it translucent, revealing shapes behind the glass.

  Rows of sheep—workers in during the daytime—each one hunched in a neat line against the wall, as if sleeping upright. No immediate threat, only an eerie silence.

  Morris let his card’s glow fade. Edris met his gaze, nodded in mutual agreement, then signaled Celio to unlock the door. With the faint hum of magic, the [OMNIKEY] turned into a key, and Celio slid it in, hearing the soft click of the mechanism giving way.

  The door swung open to a hush. Beyond it lay a spacious dormitory, sheer curtains dividing sections, everything enveloped in an eerie quiet. Low fences marked off certain areas where rows of sheep stood sleeping upright, heads drooping as though resting on invisible pillows.

  Edris stepped in and took a few paces forward, tension curling in his spine.

  He creased his brows as his eyes took in every detail: the sheep's quiet, staccato breathing, the unnatural calm, and the sense of subjugation as they were treated like livestock.

  Something about the atmosphere felt suffocating. At first, it was mild, just a sense of heaviness around his chest, making him uncomfortably warm. But as he walked deeper among the partitions, an ache started to form behind his sternum.

  It felt like a spiked coil tightening around his heart. He’d tried ignoring it, but with every second, it intensified, until the throb turned into a ragged ache.

  By the time Edris reached a corner, a violent pang nearly buckled him, forcing him to brace an arm against the fence.

  Celio hurried to his side. “Master—are you alright?!”

  Edris clenched his jaw, stepping back from the pen as he flicked open his [PROFILE].

  He glimpsed at the horrifyingly rapid drop in his [AFFINITY], letting out an inward curse. Less than three minutes had passed since they entered this space.

  The cause was obvious: they were in direct violation of their [ROLE]—interns not authorized to enter an official worker dorm.

  Across from him, Morris pressed a hand to his own chest, wincing. Celio’s expression was pained, too, though neither endured the same intensity of agony that Edris was feeling.

  Edris bit his tongue. His [AFFINITY] span seemed ever more fragile since obtaining the Surge.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Morris rasped beside him. “The system’s hitting us for intruding. We can’t risk blacking out.”

  Edris mustered a nod, but something in the corner snagged his gaze.

  A single sheep, hunched by a fence post slightly apart from the rest. The tilt of its head revealed a distinct mole on its muzzle.

  He’d seen it before somewhere.

  Celio noticed his shift in attention and directed his own toward the source.

  The next second, his eyes widened.

  “Te-Tesler?”

  The name ricocheted through Edris’s mind. Then another spear of agony hit, sharper than before. He gasped, clutching his side. Now wasn’t the time to investigate.

  With Morris and Celio’s help, Edris managed to stumble out of the Wellness Center and back through the corridor. The moment they left, some of the pressure eased. By the time they made it to the deserted main office, Edris’s vision still danced with spots, but he could stand upright again.

  “Master, that was…” Celio gulped. “Was it a coincidence?”

  Edris breathed out, directing his gaze over to the brimming letters at the Wellness Center.

  “...Things have gotten quite troublesome.”

  ***

  Morning arrived with a jarring sense of déjà vu. Edris joined the remaining interns before the Manager’s desk.

  No one looked rested, and a jittery tension ran through the group. The Manager appeared just as usual, a courteous smile plastered on his face as though none of the night’s secrets mattered.

  “Good morning, interns,” he greeted. His polished shoes clicked on the tile as he approached them. “I trust you all had a productive evening. But I have an announcement.”

  A hush fell. Edris tensed, recalling the pattern from the previous cycle.

  “One of you, sadly, did not complete yesterday’s quota,” the Manager said, his voice so pleasant it was almost mocking. “We can’t allow such a thing to go unaddressed. As you know, there are consequences for those who fall behind.”

  The air around them thickened, a sense of grimness befalling every intern. The Manager slowly strode past them, his black pupils swiveled over them, pausing on each face.

  A hush fell over the room. The Manager – imposing in his horse-headed form – shifted his weight, posture languid yet brimming with an undercurrent of power. The interns stood in a tense half-circle, each of them seeing their own dread reflected in the faces around them.

  Then, the Manager’s gaze fell upon Morris.

  “Morris.” His voice dripped with regretful courtesy. “I’m afraid you have failed to meet our standards.”

  “Impossible,” Morris said sternly. “I did exactly as instructed. Completed every shelf. Filed every book.”

  Yet the Manager stood stoically in front of the desk, the same apologetic smile curving his equine features. Celio cast Morris a confused glance, and Edris felt something like dread creeping into the air. Even Yesteria’s usual anxiety paled before the current tension.

  The interns looked on, hearts pounding, as the Manager lifted a hardcover book from a shelf. Its bright cover gleamed under the overhead light.

  “Looks like you still haven’t figured out your problem.” The Manager sighed, theatrical pity radiating from him. “Let’s test it, shall we?”

  Morris’s heart thudded. Something about this felt like a trick—like the Manager was trying to trip him up with an irrelevant question. He suspected a ruse, but forced a calm nod. He had done his tasks precisely as told, so without evidence, the Manager couldn’t do anything that fell against the Labyrinth’s regulations.

  The Manager turned the book over once, letting the interns see it in passing. Then, quietly, he held it toward Morris. “Tell me, Intern Morris: what color is this?”

  Morris scowled at the question. He suspected that the horseman was plotting a sabotage. The cover was in a standard shade, somewhere between burgundy or brown. He swallowed, quickly deciding which shade was more appropriate.

  “Dark brown,” he announced, voice steady but tinged with annoyance.

  For a moment, no one spoke. Then a hushed ripple passed through the group, confusion morphing into alarm.

  “Huh? Wh-what are you saying?” Terrace was the one who broke the silence. Tipping his thick glasses, he looked from the book to Morris, then to the book again. “That’s… It’s obviously red.”

  A stunned hush rippled through the group, and Edris studied the book in the horseman’s hand. Its cover shone under the overhead light, taking nothing but a vivid, glaring scarlet. Perhaps it could be confused for some shade of magenta, but definitely not brown.

  The next moment, he spotted the Manager’s mouth curve into a hideous smile.

  Morris blinked, his mind reeling. Only now did he realize something was deeply wrong.

  “But this—”

  —was obviously brown.

  Yet the reactions of every other person in the room were telling him otherwise.

  Realization trickled in like ice water down his spine: the error was his. He studied the cover, trying to reconcile his perceived color with everyone else’s response. At that moment, he understood that no sabotage was at play—it was simply him.

  He had lost his ability to tell colour.

  But since when?

  The question hammered inside him, but there was no time for an answer.

  “I—I don’t…” he tried to refute, but everything inside him collided: the memory of carefully organizing rows upon rows of books by color, the knowledge that apparently he’d done it all wrong.

  “I’m sorry, Intern Morris.” The Manager’s grin stretched slightly, a veneer of empathy never leaving his face. “But we at Archive X strive for precision. I can’t overlook your negligence.”

  Before Yesteria could protest, serpent-faced guards slithered in from the sidelines, forming a protective barrier around the horseman. The swift press of their presence made it clear that they’d shut down any attempt to challenge him.

  Yesteria sprang forward on impulse. “There must be some sort of mistake!” she tried, her voice cracking. “He organized them, I saw—”

  But Morris lifted a hand, stopping her outburst. He slowly shook his head at Yesteria, who looked close to tears.

  “I’m fine,” he said, quietly conceding. He paused, eyes flickering first to Edris, then to her. “And I’m sorry.”

  The apology fell like a weight between them, confusing Yesteria. She stared back, unable to understand the meaning in his gaze. Meanwhile, the serpent guards seized Morris’s arms and guided him briskly from the room. As the guards clasped his arms, he turned his gaze across the remaining interns—briefly connecting with Edris’s eyes. The unspoken message was clear:

  Remember our deal.

  Then, Morris was gone, led off by reptilian silhouettes. The Manager clicked his tongue softly, returning his attention to the interns who were left.

  “A pity,” he sighed. “But for the rest of you, I trust you’ll learn from his mistakes.”

  A prickle of fear danced through the interns. Yesteria looked on the verge of tears, while Celio swallowed thickly, jaw clenching. Terrace scratched nervously at his collar, and Rico stood paralyzed, lips parted in disbelief.

  Then the Manager’s tone shifted once more, a menacing gentleness creeping in.

  “There’s another matter. I’ve received… troubling reports of interns wandering the premises at night.” The corners of his equine mouth twitched into a crooked approximation of a smile.

  Edris, remaining silent, withheld the horseman’s gaze with is own. Clearly, the Manager had somehow found out about their late-night investigations, or at least suspected. His threat now was laid bare: Violate the Labyrinth’s unspoken curfews again, and they might share Morris’s fate.

  “Clearly, I want my interns well-rested, so I’d prefer it if we all take care of ourselves,” the Manager said with a smile. “After all, a good work-life balance is fundamental to Archive X’s ideals, right?”