A sharp “rip” tore through the air, the sound of leather splitting crisp and jarring, echoing through the shadowed expanse of the first floor.
The administrator, fresh from a harrowing chase, had returned to the reception desk.
Now, with eerie patience, it peeled away human skin, as though preparing to don a new coat.Â
Seven interns, still clinging to their ragged breaths, huddled behind a pile of discarded furniture.
Among them was Xu Dengming, who suspected her ribs might be fractured, each shallow inhale a stab of pain.
Her teammates, Dong Shaodan and Fang Jialing, were there too.
Dong had briefly checked Xu’s injuries, but the circumstances offered no chance for proper treatment.Â
Faced with an administrator wielding a grotesque skill for crafting, none of the seven dared linger on the first floor.
Yet, the only staircase to the second floor lay beyond the reception desk.
In the earlier chaos, the interns had scattered, and those unlucky enough to flee in the wrong direction now found themselves trapped deep in the hall, cornered by the monster.
Xu Dengming’s thoughts drifted to the trajectory of her life.
Stepping outside meant melting in the corrosive rain.
Reaching the second floor required passing the reception desk.
Both paths carried a lethal risk, with no guarantee of survival.
Dong Shaodan steadied Xu, who sat slumped on the floor, preventing her from collapsing entirely.
Though not one for words, Dong’s calm and rational demeanor stood out among their makeshift group, hinting at past encounters with the inexplicable.
Xu Dengming, seizing a moment of rest, activated her [Eye of Observation] to study Dong.
The lines tracing Dong’s near-future fate had darkened to an ominous black.
Xu tried to probe deeper, but her vision blurred, her ability faltering.Â
Reading an ordinary person’s fate was usually within Xu’s grasp, but Dong’s destiny seemed entangled with the administrator at the reception desk—a being steeped in mysterious forces that muddled Xu’s foresight.
Dong’s face was taut, her fists clenched unconsciously, betraying her tension.
The other five interns fared worse, their mental states fraying.
Even Xu, after glimpsing the administrator’s true form, felt her sanity waver.
The interns, fragile as glass, shivered in their hiding spot.
One stared blankly, teetering on the edge of collapse.
Another, overwhelmed by the oppressive dread, nearly let out a scream, only to be silenced by Dong’s swift fist, which snapped them back to a semblance of clarity.
The danger hadn’t yet come for them, but safety was a fleeting illusion.
Even if the administrator ceased its attacks, the relentless erosion of their mental fortitude would eventually drive them to madness.
Xu stared at her hand, where a split at the base of her thumb—sustained in the earlier skirmish—had mercifully stopped bleeding.
What could she do to escape this nightmare?
Her trump card, [Box of Fate (Anomaly)], consumed too much mental energy and risked exposing her vulnerabilities, its effects fleeting.
Unless absolutely necessary, Xu was loath to use it.
At the reception desk, the administrator continued crafting its coat with unsettling focus, showing no immediate intent to resume the hunt.
Yet Xu sensed a shift.
Once clad in its new garb, the administrator would shed its benign facade.Â
Though she couldn’t discern the specifics of their fates, she could see their colors—deep, suffocating black, a hue that signaled a plunge into despair.
If they couldn’t break this stalemate, Xu estimated their chances of survival at less than five percent.
Death loomed so close that even a farewell note would be scribbled in haste, its words clumsy and unfinished.
The administrator was nearly done with its gruesome task.
The first floor’s survivors stood on the brink of a monstrous pursuit.
Xu’s mind raced.
Once the administrator cleared the first floor, would it ascend to the second, hunting the others?Â
The presence of such a creature at the reception desk made her question whether the Bureau intended to offer them a job—or a death certificate.
By her estimate, the administrator’s skinning was ninety percent complete.
A metallic tang of blood hung in the damp air.
The body of a reckless intern lay sprawled on the floor, its skin stripped away, revealing muscles and veins in a grotesque, pale pinkish-white unlike any normal corpse.
Oddly, the body bled little for a healthy young man, its form unnaturally shriveled.
Meanwhile, the administrator—a skeletal figure—moved with increasing fluidity as it worked, as though siphoning vitality from its victims.
In their corner, another survivor, Fang Jialing, was injured like Xu.
During their escape, he’d fallen, his right leg gashed deeply by a rusted iron bar.
Blood still seeped from the wound, his face ashen.
Dong had tried to staunch the bleeding with a makeshift tourniquet, but it was barely effective.
Before joining the Bureau, none had imagined emergency medical skills would become essential.
Fear cracked Fang Jialing’s silence.
“Are we… are we about to die?” His voice trembled with panic.
No one answered.
The others avoided the obvious truth.
Xu remained silent, her eyes dim in the faint light.
If she were to judge, Fang’s guess aligned with the trajectory of their fates.
But before meeting her end, Xu was determined to find a way to defy it, to slip once more from death’s grasp.
In truth, until the interns sought help, the administrator hadn’t shown overt hostility.
Had they not approached, it might have remained at the desk, playing the harmless keykeeper.
Unassuming.
Inoffensive.
What had triggered its change?
Xu closed her eyes briefly, then whispered, “I have an idea. It’s rough, but it’s something.”
Dong’s expression flickered.
“You’ve noticed something?”
Xu nodded and replied, “Maybe. I’m not sure if it’s solid, but the administrator’s aggression might be tied to the radio.”
An intern protested and said, “Wait, didn’t it start killing after its skin was torn off?”
Xu shook her head.
“The skin it wore before was already decaying, barely clinging to its frame. It didn’t attack us then, despite being free to do so.”
The coat and sagging skin had draped over its skeletal form like mud and dust, easily shaken off.
Xu doubted the administrator lacked the strength to break free.
Another intern ventured, “Could it be because we told it something was wrong in the dorms? Maybe that triggered its change?”
Xu paused, then gave a faint smile.
“Possible. But if that’s true, we’d have to brace for its attacks head-on.”
The intern who’d spoken paled and fell silent.
Dong, still composed, said, “So, if the radio is the key…”
Xu continued, “When I went for the keys, music was playing at the desk. When we sought help, it was still playing. Unless the administrator has a peculiar taste for melodies, I think the sound might be soothing it. We could try restarting the radio.”
She added, “I don’t know if I’m right, but I hope I am.”
She didn’t mention the consequences of failure.
The others could imagine those well enough.
An intern pointed out, “But the administrator’s always at the desk. We can’t get to the radio.”
Xu replied, “Since it’s my idea, I’ll draw it away.”
Then she told to Dong, “As for the radio—”
“I’ll handle it,” Dong interjected.
“My background’s in mechanics. I’m suited for this.”
With lives on the line, the others pledged to help however they could.
Xu gave Dong a long look.
She wasn’t sure of the radio’s condition.
A loose plug might be an easy fix, but a fried circuit would be nearly impossible to repair.
Yet Dong’s tone carried a quiet confidence, as if she knew her way around broken machines.
At the reception desk, the skeletal administrator, now 95 percent done with its skinning, worked with chilling precision.
Only the feet remained.
It was nearly ready to wear its new coat.
Behind their makeshift barricade, Xu rose quietly and addressed her companions.
“When I lure it from the desk, move in.”
Her courage stemmed from [Intuition], a passive skill she hoped would guide her now.
With Xu taking on the most perilous task, the others nodded in agreement, no objections raised.
She moved lightly, slipping from their hiding spot like a wraith, blending into the dim surroundings.
The first-floor hall was littered with rusted iron bars and moldy furniture, relics so ingrained they barely registered to passersby.
Now, in the damp air, the rust seemed to deepen.
A faint “scrape” sounded.
The administrator paused, its fleshless skull tilting toward the noise.
It had heard the shift of an iron bar.