Morris disappeared in a flash, leaving the corridors in hollow silence. The interns had watched him vanish under the serpent guards' iron grips, a parting condemnation that left a bitter note in everyone’s throats.

  The Manager, as though indifferent to the tension, straightened his suit collar and gave a measured nod.

  “Before we move on,” he said, his voice silky. “I want to commend one among you for accomplishing the most tasks this time.”

  He paused, eyes flickering with something akin to amusement as everyone turned their stunned gazes to the source of his gaze.

  “Edris.”

  The dark-haired man raised an eyebrow. Before anyone could comment, the horseman spoke again.

  “However, I regret to announce that this same intern will not be allowed to advance, due to… malperformance.”

  Edris didn’t blink at the pointed remark. He knew precisely what the Manager meant—his unauthorized venture into the Wellness Center. No doubt the man had been tipped off.

  The thought surfaced in an instant. Edris mused internally, scanning the interns’ faces.

  A snitch among them all, but who?

  A ripple of confusion and concern spread, but the Manager offered no explanation. Instead, he straightened his lapels again and continued, “I’m sure you all realize that until one completes all tasks and avoids such transgressions, no one will pass probation.”

  Before anyone could protest, a blinding white light flooded every corner of the office.

  Edris stiffened, already familiar with the cycle resetting, but the brilliance swallowed his field of vision before he could brace himself. The acrid taste of adrenaline spiked in the back of his throat, and then everything dissolved into whiteness.

  When the world came back, they were back in the office’s “debut” setting, each at the starting line for another attempt. There was a brief, startled murmur as the interns blinked away the spots in their vision. No one wanted to waste a second, not after how quickly tasks escalated and how punishing each reset became.

  One by one, they hurried to the front desk, grabbing pens to sign the contract yet again.

  Edris rubbed the faint afterimage from his eyes, trying to shake off the jarring sense of déjà vu. After pinning his name in a single stroke on the same contract, his [PROFILE] chimed, reloading the same ominous [MAIN QUEST] across all the players’ interfaces.

  Across the room, Celio, Yesteria, Terrace, and Rico were doing the same, each finishing the sign-in with a grim solemnity. As the last pen lifted, the Manager flicked his equine head in a gesture of dismissal.

  Edris retreated to the now-too-familiar printing corner, eyes narrowing when he saw the ever-growing mountain of paperwork waiting for him. He didn’t allow himself even a sigh of exasperation; any sign of frustration felt like an invitation for the Labyrinth to press him further.

  The press machine whined again—a piercing shriek that seemed to grate through his skull. Had it always been this loud?

  Edri’s pulse thudded in his ears as he tried to think beyond the machine’s shriek. He realized, with some alarm, that each cycle made this contraption louder or perhaps made him more vulnerable to emotional swings.

  A small flutter of discomfort passed through him, a feeling so alien it took a moment to name it as fear.

  Edris forced it down, slamming a fist onto the side of the machine until the shriek died to a sputter. Tension laced through his body, but outwardly he maintained the same impassive face. His outward calmness, the same measured exterior, caused others to look to him by reflex.

  Eventually, a quiet lull came, allowing him a minute of pause. Edris stepped aside, wiping the thin layer of sweat from his brow.

  From over the cubicle wall, he spotted Celio, who was halfway through wiping a massive pane of glass, arms and shoulders trembling from overuse. The beast tamer boy vigorously rubbed a cleaning cloth over window after window, the repetitive motion a far cry from the early cycles.

  Seeing Celio apparently enduring the Labyrinth’s toll gave Edris a faint sense of relief.

  Though he wasn’t one to give care towards others, it was still better for the group to remain intact than not. The last thing he wanted was for people around him to succumb to a psychological craze before even failing the Labyrinth.

  As if sensing Edris’s thoughts, Celio glanced over.

  “You alright?” The former said, strolling over.

  “Master,” Celio greeted softly, fatigue etched around his eyes. “These windows… I swear I can do them blindfolded.”

  “Good to be young.” Edris shrugged a smile. He surveyed the half-washed glass, swirling with soap suds.

  The previous day’s fiasco at the Wellness Center had cost them all some [AFFINITY]. And though Celio had endured, Edris couldn’t help but be impressed that the boy was holding it together quite well.

  “But slow down if necessary. No point overworking to the point of mistakes.”

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “And yourself?” Celio asked softly, brow furrowed with concern. He glanced at the monstrous reams of paper behind the dark-haired man.

  “No worse than yesterday,” Edris replied, voice steady. His free hand trailed along the printer’s edge, checking it for jams. “You seem to be doing fine yourself.”

  Celio shrugged, the motion betraying tired muscles.

  “Just a bit overwhelmed,” he admitted. “But it’s manageable. Wiping windows is better than messing up calls, I guess.”

  Edris said nothing else, just gave a short, dismissive pat on Celio’s shoulder. At least one less person to keep an eye on in this madhouse.

  But as they conversed, Edris’s mind wondered. He couldn’t help but notice that something was off. Celio’s pupils… did they look rectangular? Or were his eyes playing tricks?

  He blinked, once, twice, focusing on the boy’s face.

  Indeed, Celio’s pupils appeared faintly square, a bizarre shape for human eyes.

  Confusion stirred in Edris, a small lurch in his stomach. Celio caught his strange gaze and blinked as well.

  “You okay, Master? You look… unsettled.”

  Edris shook his head briskly. “I’m fine. You should get back to work before the horseman gets to you.”

  Celio, perplexed, resumed wiping, but Edris moved off with an odd tightness in his chest.

  He slipped into a side hall and entered the dimly lit bathroom. Facing the mirrored wall, he leaned in. At first, he saw only the reflection of his own pale eyes… but then he realized: his pupils weren’t normal either. They looked squared at the edges, faint but unmistakable.

  “What is this…?”

  Edris pressed a hand to the sink, the porcelain cold under his palm. A shiver crept down his spine. If Celio’s eyes were changing, if his eyes were changing—he didn’t know what it meant, but it couldn’t be good.

  Before he could dwell on it further, a commotion outside drew his attention. He left the bathroom in quiet haste, pushing the unsettling sight behind him.

  Moving through the winding corridors, he heard raised voices echoing from the main office. A sense of tension thickened in the air, drawing him forward as he strode past rows of sheep-filled cubicles.

  Upon entering the large workspace, he found most of the interns crowded into a loose ring, the atmosphere charged with conflict.

  In the center stood Yesteria and Rico, locked in a heated argument, their voices reverberating off the high ceilings. Nearby, Terrace hovered anxiously between them, arms flapping as though trying—and failing—to keep the peace.

  Yesteria’s face was flushed with anger, and Rico’s eyes blazed with uncharacteristic fury. They both looked on edge, as though a tiny spark could ignite them into violence.

  “Stop, both of you—” Terrace tried, only to be shouted over by Yesteria’s outburst.

  “They’re my tasks!” Yesteria shrieked. “Quit messing with them! If you want easier work, find it on your own!”

  Rico slammed a pile of papers onto a table. “I told you, that’s not what I—” Her voice shook, raw with frustration. She shot a glare at Yesteria brimming with resentment, not the gentle composure she once radiated.

  From the edge of the group, Celio caught Edris’s eye and sidled over.

  “Master,” he whispered, breathing heavily, “I’ve never seen Rico so furious. I always thought she was… well, gentle.” He glanced back at the two women, who were engaged in a venomous exchange of words. “What on earth happened?”

  Edris said nothing for a moment, simply observing. The tension practically fizzled in the space between the two players, as though one spark might set everything aflame.

  “Desperation undermines the sane,” Edris remarked, tone as if delivering a calm observation rather than a moral.

  The younger man followed Edris’s line of sight to Terrace, who flitted around the pair, apparently urging them to settle down. But from the look on his face, it was clear his attempts were doing more harm than good.

  “Should we do something?” Celio asked, gaze flicking nervously to Edris. “Terrace is trying to help, but—”

  Edris let out a faint chuckle. “Help?”

  Before he could say more, a shout tore through the office, followed by a sudden commotion.

  Rico pushed Yesteria with surprising force, causing her to stumble back. Yesteria, incensed, lunged forward and grabbed a fistful of Rico’s hair. The woman let out a sharp cry of pain—except the sound that came out wasn’t a normal human wail at all. It resonated through the crowd as an eerie, guttural bleat, utterly unexpected and jarring.

  It was a bleat, low and grating.

  All at once, the watchers fell still, eyes wide with shock. Even Yesteria halted mid-grapple, her eyes widening as something pale drifted from Rico’s head to the floor.

  A tuft of hair—no, fur—floated down, stark white against the tiled surface. It was only an instant, but it felt like the moment stretched on forever as everyone realized they weren’t seeing what they thought they were.

  Edris’s stomach twisted, a chill crawling up the back of his neck in an instant.

  Celio drew closer, voice hushed. “That’s… fur, isn’t it?”

  Edris watched Rico stand there, trembling, hands clamped over her mouth as if horrified by her own bestial reaction. Yesteria, equally shaken, stepped back, arms halfway raised in alarm. Around them, the interns collectively broke away, each trying to comprehend this absurd situation.

  Edris let his gaze drift over the group, eyes lingering on the white fur that lay, silent testament, on the floor. He allowed himself a measured exhale.

  “So,” he said under his breath, “that’s how it works.”

  Celio turned to him, brow knitted. “What do you mean?”

  Edris’s gaze swept the group, the hair-turned-fur on the floor, the raw panic etched on Yesteria’s face.

  “Morris didn’t fail because he was incompetent,” he said quietly, thinking aloud. “He failed because he couldn’t see color anymore.”

  Celio’s eyes widened, the realization dawning. Slowly, he whispered, “He…became color-blind?”

  For a heartbeat, no one spoke. Then a faint, trembling whimper escaped Yesteria’s lips. And in the background, the hum of the printers and computers droned on, oblivious to the trembling, desperate interns. Edris stood very still, calm at the center of the storm, sifting through his options. He could feel them all glancing his way, a natural reflex toward someone who seemed to keep composure.

  “Tasks aren’t just getting harder,” Edris said simply. “We’re getting weaker.”

  He had wondered how someone like Morris, with a cautious mind and years of survival experience, had managed to make the elementary mistake of miscategorizing the shade of book.

  Now he knew.

  It wasn’t that the man had made a blunder. He simply couldn’t tell them apart.

  Yesteria’s trembling grew worse, her hands flying up to her own hair while Rico cradled her scalp, fear in her tear-stained eyes. Even Terrace remained speechless, mouth parted as the weight of Edris’s statement settled among them.

  With the Labyrinth’s true horror laid bare, no one dared to breathe as they realized all at once the grim finality:

  They were becoming sheep themselves.