Even during the day, the office was lit by harsh, pallid fluorescent lights.

Rows of cubicles partitioned most of the space into tiny, box-like compartments, each equipped with an offline desktop computer and a telephone. Everyone moved about busily—typing, making calls, exchanging documents. Lu Xin’s workstation sat right in the center, his cubicle adorned with a banner awarding him "Employee of the Month."

The morning’s tasks were finally done. Lu Xin straightened up and rubbed his temples.

Working in such an environment for too long always felt stifling, especially with the endless stream of tedious chores.

"Brother Lu, are you busy right now?" voice sounded beside him. Lu Xin looked up to see Lü Cheng, a newcomer to the office—a neatly dressed young man with neat, spirited short hair and a sunny disposition. But now, his face was twisted in frustration.

"Director assigned me to organize these files, but no matter how I sort them, I just can’t get it right. The deadline’s almost up—Brother Lu, could you... could you teach me?"

"Sure."

Lu Xin smiled and agreed. "I was just free anyway."

"Thank you, Brother Lu, you’re so kind!"

The cheerful young man beamed with gratitude and hurried over to Lu Xin’s desk, where one taught and the other learned.

From the surrounding cubicles, resentful glares shot their way, accompanied by hushed whispers.

"His own work is already overwhelming, and now he’s teaching someone else?"

"Same job for everyone—if he teaches others, what if he gets replaced?"

"..."

Under the weight of so many disapproving looks, Lu Xin still helped Lü Cheng finish the files. After a grateful "thank you," he waved him off.

Though the office’s oppressive atmosphere made everyone tense, Lu Xin had his own principles. If he could help someone, he would. The Crimson Moon Incident had changed the world, but basic decency still mattered.

"Lu Xin, come here for a sec—the director wants you!" voice called from afar.

"Coming!"

Lu Xin set down his coffee and headed toward the director’s office. There, he found the director—his cheeks so bloated they nearly touched his shoulders—seated across from a short-haired woman in sunglasses and a sharp suit.

"Lu Xin, take this file to the coffee shop at Qingjiang Road’s corner," the director said without preamble, pointing to the folder on his desk.

Delivering documents was usually the job of admin or support staff—not him.

But Lu Xin didn’t refuse. Nodding, he took the file, gave a polite nod to the director and the woman, and left.

The moment he exited, the director’s face shifted into a fawning smile as he turned to the woman. "Chief Chen, it’s done. Don’t worry, I don’t ask questions, I don’t think too much—but about that project you mentioned earlier..."

"Rest assured, that project won’t be yours."

The woman stood, slowly pushing down her sunglasses. Her voice was gentle.

The director blinked, thinking he’d misheard—until he met her eyes.

Her pupils spun, faintly red, as if two crimson moons had taken their place.

"Don’t remember me being here. Don’t remember what you asked him to do."

Her voice was soft, almost soothing. Then she slipped her sunglasses back on and walked out.

The director stood frozen for a few seconds before shaking it off, resuming his work as if nothing had happened.

...

...

On the loop-line train, Lu Xin gripped the handrail, fighting drowsiness. His seat was near the start of the line, but he’d given it up to a pregnant woman, standing for half an hour instead.

The cabin lights flickered faintly. From above, his sister dangled upside down, clutching her patched-up teddy bear, swinging like a pendulum.

Lu Xin stared straight ahead, pretending to admire the long legs of a girl in a sleek miniskirt nearby.

His sister, delighted by her own game, swung harder, making the train emit faint creaks.

Thankfully, the train was moving fast enough that the noise was drowned out.

"Brother, brother, look at that fat guy—he’s so dumb!"

His sister, playing gleefully, suddenly pointed at a slumped, drooling man nearby.

"Don’t talk to me..."

Lu Xin forced his gaze back to the girl’s legs, squeezing out a barely audible, "Mm."

"I can’t even look at you outside, let alone talk to you—they’d think I’m crazy..."

"Tch, boring."

His sister pouted, then, before he could press further, giggled and darted down the aisle. As she passed the sleeping man, she pinched his cheek—then vanished toward the front of the train.

The man jolted awake, shouting, "Who touched me?!"

Those around him stared at the empty space beside him, baffled.

Lu Xin joined the crowd, giving the man a look like he was unhinged.

...

...

When he disembarked, Lu Xin realized they were near the outer wall.

The buildings here were worn, the ten-meter-high city wall casting long shadows over them. Though most of the madmen who once roamed outside had been cleared after thirty years, the city’s residents still took no chances. Every year, reinforcing and repairing the wall remained a top priority.

The corner coffee shop loomed ahead, its atmosphere gloomy.

The surrounding old buildings and shacks seemed abandoned, not a soul in sight.

Trash littered the entrance, blown there by the wind—no one had cleaned it in ages.

An oppressive feeling settled over him as he approached.

Lu Xin didn’t like this place, but he’d promised the director. Clutching the file bag, he stepped inside.

...

...

"The thirteenth psychic variant has entered the target zone!"

From a nearby high-rise, a dozen observers monitored instruments while armed soldiers lurked in the shadows, tense and alert.

The short-haired woman was among them, holding a file with bold black text:

Target Codename: Corner Coffee Shop. Objective: Assess the thirteenth variant’s potential and specific abilities as a psychic. Potential Risks: The coffee shop is confirmed as a Level 1 Psychic Contamination Zone. Manifestations: Those who approach it feel an irresistible pull to enter.

Those who enter die within three to five days, most commonly by suicide.

Analysis: Severe depression induced by contamination inside the shop.

"..."

She set the file down. "Are the backup teams ready?" staffer nodded, pointing to the next room.

Through the glass partition, a girl in a frilly dress sat motionless, like a doll.

...

...

The moment Lu Xin entered the coffee shop, he felt a warm, lively atmosphere.

Outside, the street and buildings were empty and desolate.

But inside, the place was packed—almost overcrowded.

Everyone wore smiles. Some chatted intimately over coffee, others sat alone by the window with a book, some sipped sandwiches with closed eyes, savoring the moment. A soft, nostalgic melody played, sunlight streaming through the windows, making it feel like a world untouched by the Crimson Moon Disaster.

Lu Xin weaved through the crowd to the counter, nodding at the waitress in an elegant apron.

"Someone asked me to deliver this file here."

The director hadn’t specified a recipient, so the counter would do.

"Thanks."

The waitress didn’t seem to care, smiling as she poured a cup of coffee and slid it toward him.

"This..."

Lu Xin started to say he hadn’t planned to stay.

But the coffee smelled incredible—nothing like the cheap stuff at his office.

"You came all this way—consider it a thank-you."

Her smile was warm, genuinely kind.

Lu Xin hesitated, unable to refuse.

Then his eyes locked onto something.

From behind her pristine apron, a thick, grotesque tentacle emerged, slowly extending toward him. Its tip split open, revealing a coin-sized black mass that slithered into his coffee.

The liquid instantly grew richer, more intoxicating—the aroma irresistible.

The waitress’s smile widened as she pushed the cup closer.

"No, thank you."

Lu Xin declined politely, acting as if he’d seen nothing, and turned to leave.

At the door, he glanced back.

Every customer had frozen, staring at him blankly, mechanically.

He spun around, stiffening as he hurried out.